Dissecting the Issue

You had been worried that when Donna and Rhys came over to your world, there was going to be a significant amount of culture shock to deal with. And you were right! But not for the right reasons.

Like, it was clear from moment one that the twins were a pretty easy-going pair? But they are royalty, and not in your world's modern day sense. Rhys isn't the sort of prince who gets in trouble in the tabloids for showing up to a Halloween party in a costume that counts as a hate crime, and Donna isn't queen of some tiny island filled with sick birds or whatever. She's Queen of the Elves. That's, like, an entire world of people.

You were convinced that suddenly having no standing, no servants, and their opinions counted for precisely nothing would be a massive turnabout for them. But to your surprise, and their credit, they've so far embraced a non-royal life with absolute aplomb. It probably helps that they get to live in a mansion, but still. Good on them.

No, the issue isn't regal inflexibility. It's that they've apparently already cobbled together their idea of what high school life should be like entirely from bits and pieces of eighties teen movies. And right now, even with the first bell ringing insistently, you're having a hard time convincing Donna that she probably shouldn't immediately cut all of her classes.

"Ash, come on~! I'm a sneaky cool girl with big dreams and rad schemes!" Donna strikes a pose, flashing you a wink and a V for Victory despite your continued insistence that that doesn't count as an argument. "I can't be stifled by lame-ass classes and a bunch of small-minded teachers!"

You remind yourself again that Donna is your friend, and also that it would probably be bad to **** a foreign monarch on school grounds. "Donna. You aren't here for adventures or misadventures. You're here to go to class with Isabelle so if that invisible girl shows up, you can point her out." You indicate Rhys. "Your brother is doing the same with Jenny, and he doesn't have a problem with it."

Donna sticks her tongue out at that. "That's because Rhys loves classes and teachers because Rhys is a nerd." She pauses at that, giving her brother a quizzical look. "You decided you were going to be a nerd, right?"

The prince shrugs amiably, hands shoved into the pockets of his jean jacket. "Kinda! I'm pretty sure I'm going Nerd, but, like, the nerd who winds up being secretly good at sports and helps win the big game." His expression hardens for a moment as he turns to the deeply-amused looking Jenny. "But I'm definitely not going to be like those **** of the Nerds nerds. I'm pretty sure they were rapists. They shouldn't have won the Greek Games! They should have gone to prison."

Donna folds her arms, giving Rhys a once over. "You could have at least updated your look a bit!" The queen does a quick spin, indicating herself to draw attention to her more modern look of a stylish bomber jacket, tight white tee and skinny jeans. "I mean seriously Rhys, Double Denim?"

Jenny hums at that, stepping to Donna's side as the two of them size up her brother, the prince stiffening at suddenly being the center of attention. "Hmm, Double Denim is sort of a look now, Donna. It's a thing."

"Well sure, but can he,"--Donna waggles a hand at the embarrassed looking Rhys--"Pull it off? You gotta have style for Double Denim! Panache! You gotta have...um..."--She snaps her fingers rapidly, trying to find the word--"You gotta have...shit, it's, uh--"

Rhys clears his throat, raising a finger in an attempt to regain some control of the situation. "Zazz?"

Donna claps her hands, pointing in triumph at her brother. "That's it! Zazz! You gotta have zazz, Rhys."

"Um..."--He hesitantly raises his hands, splays his fingers and then shakes them around. "Whoo~?"

Both girls do their best to keep a straight face at that, but when Donna bursts into laughter Jenny can't help joining in. Rhys adjusts his backpack straps, grinning sheepishly as Jenny starts shooing him down the hall. Donna, meanwhile, links arms with a bewildered looking Isabelle. "Come on Isabelle! You're gonna be late for class."

You can only offer your girlfriend a helpless shrug as Donna leads her away in precisely the opposite direction of their first class. Fuck it, you've got class too. Hopefully Isabelle gets this back on the rails before Donna manages to lead her on some insane Ferris Bueller-style hijinks.

You're gonna set a Google alert for 'teen girls', 'elf?', 'parade', 'riot', and 'arrested' just in case.

It's funny how much the constant mayhem of magical nonsense that you've been dunked into has really and truly given you an appreciation for the normal parts of your live. You are a witch; you can cast spells and essentially alter the fabric of the world to your whims. But right now? You're super stoked to just get on with Biology class.

That being said...you peer down at the preserved frog sprawled out on its tray with a frown of distaste. It's not all so great.

You shoot a sidelong glance to your lab partner. "Well alright then! Have at it, yeah?"

Quinn shakes his head firmly, sliding the scalpel towards you. "Oh no. It's your turn."

"Aw!" You adopt your most ingratiating smile. "Didn't you say you could handle all the cutting?"

The boy rolls his eyes in good humor. "Yeah, nice try Ash. We agreed to trade off; don't back out now."

You start to reply to that, then furrow your brow. But...Quinn did say he could do all the knife work. Didn't he? You distinctly remember him saying he didn't mind handling it, that he...hrm. You shake your head to clear your muddled thoughts, quickly offering Quinn a teasing smirk before he can notice your moment of confusion. "Well fine! But only because if you cut your hand and have to miss the season opener, Jenny and Isabelle will be pissed off at me."

Quinn chuckles at that, rubbing the back of his head as you glance over the dissection chart. "When you put it that way, maybe I should be handling the knife."

"Hm?" You flick your eyes up at the boy, trying to read his expression while pinning the specimen down. "Are you nervous about Friday?"

"I guess? I mean, only about a couple parts."

"Like what?"

He shrugs. "Oh, say, anytime I'll have my hands on the ball."

You consider that, picking up the forceps. "Quinn, you're the quarterback."

"Yeah."

You clack the instrument at him. "You will frequently have your hands on the ball."

"I am really nervous about Friday."

Well that seems like a problem. You consider that for a moment, both you and Quinn making noises of disgust as you use the forceps and scalpel to start peeling back the frog's skin. The two of you share a 'blech' face before you offer him a friendly wink. "Well cheer up, sad boy! I don't know that much about football, but I do know that 'Give the Ball to David Wright' is a pretty strong strategy."

Quinn nods slowly at that, some of the stress leaving his shoulders. "Yeah. True." He glances towards the other end of the classroom toward the fit-looking boy with toffee-colored skin and a mop of lush black curls. David's making a show of bravely going to work on his frog, and judging by the way the leggy blonde girl that is his partner coos and smiles at him, it is very appreciated.

Ugh, David and Leslie are so cute together; it's super awesome and fucking gross all at once.

Look, did you use a teensy bit of magic to get them together? Yes, sure. Okay. But that was actually very noble of you, because Leslie is a cool chick who'd been treated terribly by that asshole Max. And David has a pretty great dick that you could have just kept on the shelf for your own personal use, but instead magnanimously set free to flutter away towards her poor neglected pussy. And yes, that metaphor is super icky, but it's also very fitting; the two of them have been fucking more or less nonstop since the party at his house.

Quinn watches them for a moment, a bemused look crossing his face. "How can anyone flirt like that with the smell of formaldehyde in their nose?"

You snort at that. "I don't know; you tell me, Quinn."

The boy furrows his brow at that. "Huh? What does that mean?"

Uh....what did that mean? Something is bugging you about all of this, but whenever you try to close in on it, it fizzles away just out of reach. The stink of this frog isn't helping either; Jesus Fuck, was this thing pickled in straight up cat piss or something?

Wait a second. Cat piss?

You quickly straighten, clumsily placating Quinn with an airy shrug as you surreptitiously scan the classroom for any sign of a fire-haired sybarite fucking herself with a beaker or something. When you're reasonably confident she isn't actually here, you lean back down over your frog as if to refocus on peeling away the muscle and take a small, careful sniff. Yep, there it is, faint and fading and all but hidden by the powerful aroma of embalming fluid: the hissing, fetid stench of Galigula's effluvium. She's been in the science storage room.

Quinn offers a confused little smile at your sudden triumphant grin. "Uh, what's up, Ash?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all. Now get ready to take notes, dude." You tap the frog with the flat of your scalpel. "'Cause I'm about to cut this bitch's heart out."