# Class Of '09

This school was a joke, and the punchline… was you.

If you came here expecting a regular highschool life, then we've got news for you. The second you actually look deeper, the entire thing unravels like a rotting fruit disguised under a fresh peel. Decades of teenage angst, anxiety, disappointment - the walls themselves were marinated in failure, just with a plastered-on 2000's color filter.

You've barely been here for a week, but by now you've almost familiarized yourself with the drill. Stay low, don't trust anyone, and try not to get into some shady shenanigans to land yourself in prison.

It's like a poorly-written sitcom, a fever dream stitched together from the worst parts of human nature. Everyone in class seemed nothing more than an unironically unhinged stereotype, designed by a bored God who stopped caring halfway through the script.

Worst part is that they don't own half the self-awareness to even realize that.

In the far corner, Jeffery's getting relentlessly picked on for his anime obsession and oversized glasses. And Kylar. A mistake. His presence is proof that some people peak before they even begin. Not like filling the space with noise can cover up how empty it is inside.

"Nice choice, sitting next to us," Jecka smiled cynically, her voice sweet with a razor edge. "It’s not like you’ve got anything better to do with your life, right?"

You didn’t have an answer for that. So you simply shrugged, staying at their lunch table that you so nonchalantly invited yourself to.

Nicole, self-proclaimed sociopath, didn’t even bother with the politeness. "Hey, newbie." Her tone was flat with her usual deadpan expression, "You look like you just woke up from some dystopian movie and got stuck here."

*Half-true.* You have a feeling she's more perceptive than she lets on. People like to think they’re complex creatures, but they’re embarrassingly predictable when you stop pretending to care.

Oh well, better get to class, right?