Chapter Text

Beep… Beep… Beep

“Hey… Olivia… it’s me. I know I’m probably the last person you want to hear from. Or maybe you won’t hear this at all. I just… I wanted to say I’m sorry. I know an apology won’t fix what I broke—especially after that night—but I needed you to know. I loved you. I always did. No… I still do. But I think it’s better if I leave you alone. Let you focus on your family. Let you heal. Maybe… fix things. I don’t know.”

“Mr. Nito, you’ve got one minute.”

“I know. I’ll be quick.”

“Olivia, if you hear this… try to forget about me. Whatever happened, it was on me. And I’m paying for it now. But there’s one last thing I need to say—please don’t give up on your art. Become the painter you always wanted to be. Do it for Iadakan.”

“Nito, it’s time. Let’s go.”

“…Yes, officer.”

“Goodbye, Olivia.”

FlipOpossum’s proudly present…

Trust is like a loose wheel

What a day it’s already been. Slept in, didn’t have time for breakfast, and nearly got my car wrecked in traffic. I can see why Pops wanted to move closer to the city—car horns might as well be music to him. Me? I’ve had enough noise for one lifetime.

Still, it beats being stuck at that shithole of a school. I grunt under my breath, picturing myself walking away from it with flames licking at my heels. Dramatic, sure—but at least I’ve still got my imagination.

I need to focus on what matters now. It’s a new day since… that whole accident. Nothing really bad happened, but let the record show: humans should never mix fire with culture night. Ever. Let it be said that I, Red Hayden Erring, will not pull a stunt that stupid again until I’m a professional stuntman. And hopefully, this school is the first step toward that.

St. Hammonds. Not a bad name. Its reputation, though? Kind of sticks out—well-known as an art school. Guess it was the only decent option Pops could find. Here’s hoping the drama team doesn’t suck. And here’s hoping—whatever god handles situations like this—that they’re ready for someone like me. It’s my first day, which means I’ve got to make an impression.

For my pride!

Ring Ring!

After taking the corner a little too fast, I flicked my eyes down to the glowing monitor on my dashboard. The name flashing across the screen made my jaw tighten.

Pops.

“Mierda,” I muttered under my breath.

The engine hummed beneath me as I tapped the green button. I straightened in my seat, rolled my shoulders back, and forced a smile onto my face like he could somehow see it through the speakers.

“Hola, hijo.” His voice filled the car—steady, confident, already amused. “Guessing that you’re calling from your car means you’re running a bit late,” he added. I snorted, turning another corner. The school’s brick facade was only a few blocks away now, rising above the trees like some monument to expectations. “No, Pops. Just woke up late. Still got time before school starts.”

A lie wrapped in half-truth. I checked the clock again anyway.

He scoffed. I didn’t need to see him to picture the grin stretching across his face. “My son. Late on the first day, no less. I’ll have to see it myself when I get the chance.” My fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel. “Fuck you too, Pops,” I shot back, the words slipping out before I could soften them.

His laughter died instantly. “Hijo,” he said, his tone flattening, “I told you to watch your mouth. Sabes que no me gusta que me hables así.”

I recoiled like he’d actually smacked the back of my head. Old reflex. Old rules. The tires rolled over a shallow dip in the road as I exhaled through my nose. “Pide perdón al padre,” I muttered, the apology automatic and hollow. There were muffled sounds on his end—voices, metal clanking, distant machinery. Work. He always chose work. I imagined him adjusting his hard hat, already half-turned away from the call. “Well, hijo, I’ve got to go. Work’s catching up. This new promotion means I won’t be home much.”

Of course it does. 

“Mmm… yeah.” My grip tightened on the wheel until my knuckles paled. “Congrats.” Silence stretched just a little too long. “Well, have a good—” I ended the call. The sudden quiet felt heavier than his voice. I tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat and scanned the lot as I pulled into the school parking area. Students drifted across the asphalt in clusters—laughing, shouting, backpacks slung over shoulders like armor. A few stepped in front of my car without looking, forcing me to brake.

“Unbelievable,” I muttered. After circling once, I spotted an open space near the entrance. Lucky. I slid into it smoothly, killed the engine, and let the silence settle again. For a second, I just sat there, staring at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Same face. Same eyes. Same expectations.

“Late on the first day,” I mimicked under my breath. I grabbed my bag from the passenger seat and stepped out, the morning air cool against my face. The school towered ahead of me metal doors gleaming, banners hanging for the start of the year. New beginnings. Fresh reputations.

Then, with a quick pivot back into the car, I reached behind the seat and pulled out my skateboard. The grip tape was worn in all the right places. Reliable. Familiar. Mine. If I was going to make a name for myself here, it wouldn’t be as the kid who woke up late or the son who wasn’t enough.

It would start with an entrance.

By the time I reached the front doors, I couldn’t stop the grin stretching across my face. The glass reflected it back at me—cocky, reckless, alive. I loosened my grip on the board and, with a sharp flick of my foot, kicked the door open just enough to slip through. The hinges groaned in protest as I dropped the board to the polished floor and pushed off hard.

The wheels hit tile.

Bad idea.

Didn’t matter.

“What is up, St. Hammonds!” I called out, my voice echoing through the wide hallway as I weaved straight into the morning crowd of Dinos. Backpacks swung. Tails whipped. Claws scraped against lockers as students jumped out of my way.

“Watch it, asshole!” one barked.

“What’s the hurry?!” another shouted.

“My leg—!”

A thump, a hiss, someone stumbling. I leaned low into the board, carving through the shifting maze of scales and feathers. Their annoyed voices blended into white noise behind me. I couldn’t help it.

The grin stayed.

Riding always did this to me. The rush, the balance, the way everything narrowed down to speed and instinct. It was the one thing that didn’t care who my father was, or what he expected, or how out of place I felt surrounded by claws and teeth.

For a few seconds, it was just me and the momentum.

When the front office sign came into view, I crouched and popped the board slightly, hopping off with a smooth landing. The wheels clattered once before I grabbed it mid-roll and slid it behind my back, wedging it between my backpack and hoodie like it belonged there.

I quickly checked myself over—brushed dust off my jeans, adjusted the collar of my shirt, tugged my sleeves down. First impressions mattered. Especially with staff. That’s when I heard it.

“Whoa… another human?”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s that human from the formal.”

“Huh?”

The word slipped out of me before I could stop it. I turned toward the voices, but none of the Dinos were looking at me directly. They stood in loose clusters, pretending not to stare while absolutely staring. Whispers moved faster than I did on that board.

Another human?

From the formal?

Considering I hadn’t seen a single other human since pulling into the parking lot, I’d assumed I was the only one. Apparently not. Or maybe I was just that memorable. Shaking the thought away, I straightened my posture. Chin up. Shoulders back. Act normal. Act polite. The higher-ups didn’t need a reason to label me as trouble on day one.

I reached for the office door and pushed it open slowly.

A blue parasaur stepped out at the same time, nearly walking into me. He looked about my age, glasses sliding down his snout as he squinted at a sheet of paper in his hands. “Hello, how can I help you—” He stopped mid-sentence. His eyes lifted. Locked onto mine. He stared for a long moment, then furrowed his brow and adjusted his glasses with a nervous tap. “Inco? What are you doing here?”

I blinked.

Great First real interaction of the day and I’m already mistaken for someone else. Yeah… not great.

I folded my arms across my chest and let out an audible scoff. “My name is not Inco.” The parasaur blinked rapidly, flustered. His tail gave an awkward twitch behind him. “Oh! Uh— sorry, I didn’t mean to—I just thought you were—”

“Forget it,” I muttered, brushing past him before he could finish.

The office smelled faintly of paper and printer ink. The lighting was softer in here, calmer. The blue Dino hesitated before closing the door behind us, lingering near it like he wasn’t sure whether to follow me or apologize again. I ignored him.

My eyes landed on a door at the far end of the room. Principal. I took a few measured steps toward it, my earlier bravado cooling into something more controlled. Knocking lightly, I waited only a second before pushing it open.

“Ah, Mr. Earning, was it? Good to see you here.” The principal didn’t even glance up from her desk when she said it. She lifted a ceramic mug to her mouth instead, steam curling up around her snout as she took a slow, deliberate swig of coffee.

I opened my mouth to correct her. But she cut off any chance of that by setting the mug down with a soft clink and finally looking at me over the rim of her glasses. Right. She’d been at the transfer meeting. I remembered that sharp gaze, the way she’d watched me like she was measuring something.

“Hello, ma’am,” I said evenly, keeping my tone respectful. I crossed one foot over the other and leaned back slightly in the chair across from her desk, letting it tilt just enough to show I wasn’t completely stiff. Not slouching. Just relaxed.

Her eyes narrowed for half a second.

There it is.

The smile she gave me didn’t reach her eyes, but it was polished. Professional. She turned toward a tall filing cabinet against the wall and pulled open a drawer. “I’m glad you showed up without being called,” she said. “I wanted to let you know that all of your school records from your previous institution have been safely transferred.” She withdrew a red folder and placed it on her desk. My face stared back at me from the printed ID photo clipped to the front. Sharp jaw. Clean haircut. Neutral expression.

Handsome.

Obviously.

“But,” she continued, flipping it open and scanning a page, “I do want to give you a warning. The staff here at St. Hammonds does not allow lighters on campus.”

Ah.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. It’s not my fault humans figured out fire first. I slowly leveled my chair back down onto all four legs and glanced around the office instead. Framed certificates. Awards. A small plant near the window.

And then—

Him.

That blue parasaur was still standing near the door. Glasses slightly crooked. Just… staring. Not even trying to hide it. Amazement. Curiosity. Something else I couldn’t quite read. The looks were happening again. I turned back to the principal before I could overthink it.

She slid a single sheet of paper across the desk toward me, her claws tapping lightly against it. “Here is your schedule. Since it’s already past midterm, you won’t have the option to change classes. However, I did my best to align it with your previous coursework.” Her tone softened just a fraction, like she wanted me to notice the effort. 

I picked up the page and scanned it quickly. The layout wasn’t ideal. A couple classes back-to-back that I wasn’t thrilled about. But it was manageable. “It’ll work,” I said, nodding once.

“Good.”

There was a beat of silence.

I slipped the schedule into my hoodie pocket and stood, adjusting my backpack on my shoulders. “Thanks, ma’am. I’ll make sure not to leave this school without a diploma.” A small smile tugged at my lips. That seemed to do something. Her posture eased just slightly, and she took another sip of her coffee.

“Please,” she corrected gently, “it’s Principal Scaler, Mr. Erring.” She said my name properly this time. I gave her a small nod. “Of course, Principal Scaler.” As I turned toward the door, I caught the blue parasaur still hovering there like an anxious hall monitor. Oddball. I reached for the handle—

“Ahem.” I paused. Slowly, I looked back over my shoulder. Principal Scaler’s eyes flicked downward, toward the faint gray streaks trailing from the office entrance. Skateboard wheels. “And do make sure not to leave tracks on the floor,” she said smoothly. “I’d hate to see a student staying after school to clean it.” My gaze dropped to the marks. Then back to her.

Damn. She was good.

With both hands raised slightly and a light, easy grin, I stepped back from Principal Scaler’s desk like I was surrendering. “Understood,” I said, offering a casual nod before slipping out of the office. The door clicked shut behind me. Hallway noise rushed back in instantly—lockers slamming, claws scraping tile, tails swishing through the air. I adjusted my backpack straps and pulled my schedule back out.

“So what do we have…” I muttered, eyes scanning the page. “P.E. first period? Guess Scaler wasn’t kidding about keeping it the same.” A gym class first thing in the morning.

Great.

At least I wouldn’t have to sit through awkward introductions right away. I folded the paper and slid it back into my bag, starting down the hall with a new objective in mind. Gym. Find the gym. Blend in. Survive. But the whispers hadn’t stopped.

“That’s him.”

“The human.”

“The one from the formal.”

“Why does he have a wig?!”

My jaw tightened. A wig?! My hand immediately went to the top of my head, fingers brushing through my hair. I tried not to make it obvious, but I could feel the heat creeping up my neck. I knew I shouldn’t have tried it. Ryan Gosling’s hairstyle looked effortless on him. Clean. Slick. Confident. On me? Apparently it screamed “cheap costume.” I ran my fingers through it again, messing it up deliberately until it fell back into its usual uneven, slightly chaotic shape. That felt more natural. More me.

Still, the feeling didn’t leave. That sensation. Like eyes digging into the back of my skull. I slowed my steps. Then stopped entirely. The hallway traffic split around me in irritation, a few tails brushing my legs as students maneuvered past. Slowly, I turned my head.

Out of the corner of my eye—

Blue.

He froze the second our gazes almost met. The parasaur from the office. He’d been following me. “What the fuck?” I muttered under my breath before turning fully toward him. I crossed my arms over my chest and lifted a brow. “You gonna keep looking at me funny, or are you gonna bounce?”

He blinked like a deer caught in headlights, glancing left and right as if hoping I was talking to someone else. When he realized I wasn’t, he adjusted his glasses with a nervous push. “Sorry, it’s just… I…” His tail twitched behind him. “I thought you might need some help. I am the student body president, after all, and helping new students around is my—”

“Don’t care,” I cut in flatly.

The words dropped between us like a brick. His mouth stayed slightly open for a second, surprise written all over his face. Confused. A little hurt, maybe. He clearly wasn’t used to being brushed off.

Student council.

Student body president.

Yeah, no thanks.

At my last school, the ones “in charge” were the first to smile in your face and the first to sell you out when it mattered. I wasn’t signing up for that again. Not on day one. So I turned and kept walking. No map. No guide. Just instinct. I passed a row of lockers painted in school colors, took a left at what looked like a main corridor, then a right when I heard the distant echo of bouncing balls and whistles.

Hopefully that meant gym. If not? I’d just wander until the bell rang and pretend I meant to be late. Behind me, I could still feel it. Not just Blue Dino’s stare. Everyone’s. I adjusted my backpack again and kept my pace steady, refusing to look back. If they were going to stare, they could at least get a good view while I walked like I owned the place.

Ring!

“Oh no…”

The words slipped out under my breath as the warning bell rang overhead and the hallway instantly transformed into chaos. Lockers slammed shut. Claws clicked rapidly against tile. Tails swayed and bumped into backpacks as students funneled into classrooms. The open space I’d been relying on disappeared in seconds. I slowed to a stop, scanning the hallway signs again.

Great.

Deep down, I knew I should’ve let the blue parasaur help me. At least point me in the direction of the gym. But no—had to be stubborn. Had to prove I didn’t need anyone. Now the halls were thinning out, classrooms swallowing the last clusters of Dinos one by one.

This was it.

When the traffic cleared just enough, I dropped my skateboard to the floor and hopped on in one smooth motion. “Come on,” I muttered, pushing off hard. The wheels hummed against the tile as I sped down the corridor, glancing left and right at door plaques. Biology. World History. Advanced Mechanics. Not it.

The tardy bell was seconds away—I could feel it. The hallway widened ahead into a larger open space. Double doors. A bold sign overhead. Gymnasium. Relief hit like a rush of air. “Ha! Good luck is still with me today—ah!”

The world tilted. My front wheels clipped something solid and unmoving. The board shot out from under me, and gravity did the rest. There’s the ground. I hit hard, shoulder first, then rolled onto my back. The air left my lungs in a sharp huff. For a moment, all I could see were ceiling lights spinning above me. I rubbed the top of my head with a groan. Then I saw wheels. Not my skateboard. Bigger. Attached to something. Confused, I slowly lifted my gaze. Green scales. Claws gripping metal rims.

A slightly ripped purple hoodie sleeve stretched tight over strong forearms. And then two sharp silver eyes staring down at me, glowing with irritation. A low growl rumbled from her throat. Shit. “Watch where you’re going, dumbass!” Her voice was rough, scratchy—like gravel dragged across concrete.

I scrambled to my feet, nearly tripping again in the process. I grabbed for my backpack, only to notice one strap had torn slightly from the fall. “Ah, come on,” I groaned—then immediately remembered the very angry Baryonyx in front of me. Right. Priorities. “Sorry about that, señora,” I said quickly, scratching the back of my head. “I knew I shouldn’t have zoomed by that fast.” I was honestly more shocked that she hadn’t tipped over from the collision. And that’s when it clicked.

Wheelchair.

The realization settled heavy in my chest. Guilt followed right after. I straightened up, trying to look less like an idiot sprawled on the floor and more like someone raised with actual manners. “Perdóname,” I said, a bit more sincerely this time.

Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Shit! Wrong language.

“I— I meant—”

“Forget it,” she grunted, cutting me off. She turned her chair smoothly with practiced ease and began wheeling herself down the hallway toward an elevator tucked into the corner. An elevator? Didn’t even know this school had one. I stood there for a second longer than I should have, watching her go. There was strength in the way she moved—controlled, deliberate. Like she didn’t need anyone’s help and didn’t want it either.

Felt… familiar.

I forced myself to look away before it became staring. Didn’t need to look like a creep on top of everything else. I grabbed my skateboard off the floor, slung it under my arm, adjusted my torn strap as best I could, and pushed through the gym doors just as the final bell rang.

Made it. Barely.

The echo of bouncing balls and shouting voices swallowed me whole as the doors shut behind me. The gym was massive. High ceilings arched overhead with steel beams crisscrossing like ribs. Banners from past championships hung along the walls, and the polished court reflected the overhead lights in long streaks. It smelled like rubber, sweat, and industrial cleaner.

Still… My old school’s gym had been bigger. Big enough to fit two full camera setups when they filmed that overly dramatic “Drug Free Future” video none of us asked for. At the far end of the court, students were already forming lines.

Of course they were.

I jogged over after dropping my bag on the nearest bench, sliding into the crowd as tails flicked and wings tucked in tightly to make space. I glanced left and right at the students beside me.

“Hey? Does anyone know what we’re supposed to be—” A hard shove slammed into my shoulder mid-sentence. I stumbled a half-step as a tall pink hybrid Dino brushed past without even looking at me. I bit back a comment. First day. Stay cool. I straightened up—and then had to crane my neck.

Way up.

Holy shit. The figure in front of me was tall. Broad. Covered in thick, brown fur that stretched over arms built like tree trunks. A whistle hung from his neck, and a worn baseball cap cast a shadow over his eyes.

A Simian.

And not the friendly type.

“YOU ARE OUT OF UNIFORM, SOLDIER!” he roared, voice echoing off the rafters. “WHERE IS YOUR PE GEAR!?” The shout hit like a flashbang. I instinctively clapped my hands over my ears. “I… don’t have any,” I said once the ringing died down. The collective gasp from the line of students made it worse.

I slowly looked up at the hidden eyes beneath the cap. He was staring down at me like I’d just insulted his ancestors. A nervous snicker slipped out of me before I could stop it. Big mistake. “Heh… ‘don’t have any?’ YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE THAT, MAGGOT!?” The roar practically shook my spine.

I straightened to my full height—still nowhere near his—and crossed my arms. “You expected a new student to have his gear that he was promised for the first day… Señor?” A few students nearby stiffened. The simian recoiled slightly, clearly not expecting that answer. His jaw tightened. “I— you—” He stopped himself, recalibrating. Then his eyes narrowed with recognition. “Ah. So you must be Mr. Erring.” I nodded once.

“Very well,” he grunted. “Please forgive me for not knowing you hadn’t yet received your locker and gear.” Trying to save face. “You were at the meeting,” I muttered under my breath, remembering a particularly loud roar that had rattled the conference table.

His nostrils flared. “I am your new coach,” he announced, stepping back and pacing in front of the line. “Coach Solly. Not ‘Coach.’ Not ‘Solly.’ COACH SOLLY!” Each word landed like a hammer. He moved with heavy authority, shoulders squared, whistle bouncing against his chest as he marched down the line. “NOW!” he bellowed. “IT IS A NEW YEAR, AND IT HAS BEEN WEEKS SINCE YOUR LAST TRAINING!”

“I sure had the time of my life,” I muttered just loud enough. A few suppressed chuckles rippled through the line. Coach Solly’s head snapped toward me like a predator catching movement.

“ERRING! DROP AND GIVE ME 20!”

I blinked. “Ah, but I was—”

“25!!”

Okay. Noted. I shut my mouth immediately and dropped to the floor, palms hitting the polished wood. The surface was cool for exactly half a second before my muscles started burning.

One.

Two.

Three.

By fifteen, my arms were already shaking.

By twenty-five, my shoulders felt like they were on fire.

I pushed myself back up to standing, breath heavier now, sweat already forming along my hairline. My shirt clung slightly under my arms. Coach Solly paced again like a drill sergeant reborn. “You will all begin with laps. Five around the court. MOVE!” The line broke instantly.

I fell into stride with the rest of the class, legs pumping as we circled the court. The hardwood thudded under pounding feet, claws, and talons. Wings flared briefly for balance. Tails countered every turn. By the third lap, heat bloomed through my entire body. By the fifth, sweat was dripping down my spine. My lungs burned, but I refused to slow. If I complained, if I even hinted at it, I had no doubt Coach Solly would invent a new number for push-ups. So I kept running. Kept breathing. Kept pace. By the time we finished the warm-up drills, my entire body felt charged and overheated, muscles awake and buzzing. 

And this was only first period!

Acting on instinct, I pulled my hoodie over my head and tied it tightly around my waist, using it like a makeshift belt to keep my shirt from sticking awkwardly. Sweat cooled against my skin as the air hit it. Across the court, Coach Solly watched me for a long moment before a slow smirk spread across his face.

“NICELY DONE, CLASS!” he roared, pacing with his hands clasped behind his back. “SINCE YOU ALL HAVE DONE SO WELL, I THINK WE SHOULD PLAY A GAME!”

A game? Perfect. Something I could actually enjoy.

“DODGEBALL! TWO TEAMS! GROUP UP AND GET READY!!!”

The word exploded through the gym like a war cry. Students scrambled instantly as Coach Solly appointed two captains. I leaned back against the wall, arms loose at my sides, pretending not to care. Pick order mattered. Being chosen last on the first day would sting—but being picked early would put a spotlight on me.

One by one, students were called over. The groups grew. The line shrank.

“I’ll take the human!”

My head snapped up. A red parasaur stood near center court, chin lifted, a smug grin stretched across her face. She flicked her tail lazily like she’d just picked a snack. Fine by me.

I pushed off the wall and walked to her side, feeling eyes follow every step. When I joined the group, she leaned down slightly so we were eye level. “Nice wig, Skinny.”

There it was. First real conversation of the day, and it came with a jab. I didn’t look at her. I just rolled my shoulders into a loose stance. “Better than your mullet.” A few teammates snorted. Her grin twitched, surprise flashing across her face before irritation took over. Good.

Coach Solly’s whistle shrieked, and chaos erupted.

Most players lunged forward immediately, diving for balls like starving predators. I didn’t. I held back, letting the overeager ones scramble. Balls started flying within seconds—rubber streaking through the air, slamming into bodies, thudding against the polished floor. A Dino beside me took one straight to the chest and stumbled out.

I stayed light on my feet, watching patterns.

“Come on!” I called out, spreading my arms slightly. “Where’s the action?!”

A few on the other side blinked at me in confusion. Then one stepped forward and launched a fastball straight at my head.

Too risky to catch.

I dropped instantly, ducking low as the ball screamed over me. I felt the rush of air skim my hair. Close.

I popped back up and retreated as more balls rained across the center line. Players were dropping fast on both sides, but I wasn’t an easy target. I caught one cleanly against my chest, eliminating the thrower. Snagged another mid-bounce and fired it back low, clipping someone in the leg.

Out.

Momentum started shifting. When balls rolled near my feet, I kicked them backward toward my teammates. The red parasaur was still in, still giving me that annoyed look. She scooped up a ball and nailed someone across the court with solid force. Alright. She could play.

I scanned the opposing side and locked onto their captain—that hybrid pink Dino weaving between players, movements controlled, eyes sharp. He wasn’t wasting throws. He was waiting. Conserving.

Smart.

A worthy contender.

Then I glanced down at our side of the court.

Empty.

No balls left.

Every single one had either been caught or rolled to their half. The opposing captain noticed at the same time I did. A slow grin spread across his face as his team gathered the remaining ammunition at their feet.

We were outgunned.

And they knew it.

“Take cover!”

The warning barely left my teammate’s mouth before a ball slammed into his shoulder and knocked him out of the game. For a split second, the overhead lights seemed to dim—not because they actually did, but because of the massive shadow forming above us. A storm of red rubber balls arced through the air all at once.

I lunged forward and caught one cleanly against my chest. The impact stung, but the catch brought one of our teammates back in. “Back in!” I barked, tossing him the ball as I bolted away from the center line. More opponents were already winding up, claws gripping fresh ammunition. By the time their second wave finished launching, the damage was clear.

Our side had thinned.

Badly.

I glanced at the small group of teammates now standing against the wall, out for the round. Dramatic inspiration struck. I placed a hand over my chest and gave them a solemn nod. “Your actions will be remembered.” A few of them chuckled despite themselves. Coach Solly did not. “ERRING! LESS ACTING, MORE THROWING!” he thundered from across the court.

I scanned the field. Only a handful of us left. On the other side, their numbers were still solid. The red parasaur was still in, moving aggressively, catching throws with sharp precision. But she was struggling with a pink hybrid Dino who kept baiting her into bad angles. I can’t let that slide. Ball in hand, I sprinted forward, moving behind her flank. I didn’t announce it. Didn’t warn her. Just read the space. This throw had to matter.

I tightened my grip and accelerated past her. Everything seemed to slow down. My foot planted hard against the floor. I twisted my hip, shoulder rotating with controlled force as my arm snapped forward. Release. The ball curved midair, cutting across the court at an angle the hybrid wasn’t expecting. He tried to dodge. But it was too late.

Thud.

The sound echoed clean and satisfying as the ball struck his chest. “Score!” I shouted instinctively. Cheers burst from our side. Even some of the neutral players reacted. Riding the momentum, I dropped to my knees and slid across the polished floor like a soccer player celebrating a championship goal. My jeans held up surprisingly well as I skidded forward before popping back up.

The pink hybrid was laughing, brushing off the impact. He gave me a thumbs-up. Good sport. I nodded back, crossing my arms with a wide smirk as I soaked in the moment. Eyes were on me. Smiles. A few impressed looks. Oh yeah… first impression is looking—

Stomp.

Heavy footsteps thundered behind me, shaking the floor enough to make me falter. For a brief second I wondered if Coach Solly had decided to personally flatten me. I turned slowly. Two sharp blue orbs glared down at me. The red parasaur. “Hey, loser! That one was mine!” she snapped, venom dripping from every word.

I shrugged casually and turned back around, brushing imaginary dust from my shoulder. “Too slow,” I added, pushing my hair back from my eyes. “Hey! I’m not done talking to you, Skinny!” I exhaled through my nose and turned to face her fully, irritation finally rising. “What now— Ack! What the—?!” Pain shot across my scalp.

My head jerked backward as something yanked hard at the top of it. Are you serious? This bitch is pulling my hair?! I growled, hands shooting up instinctively as she gripped a fistful of it like she was testing if it was real. My yelp must’ve surprised her more than I expected.

Her grip loosened instantly, and she let go of my hair like she’d just realized she’d touched something hot. I stumbled back a half-step, rubbing the top of my head where the sting was already blooming. I shot her a glare, irritation finally snapping loose.

“The fuck are you doing grabbing my hair, bitch?”

The word hung in the air like a gunshot. The entire gym seemed to freeze. She blinked, caught completely off guard as dozens of eyes shifted toward her. For a split second she looked almost stunned. Then she snorted and jabbed a clawed finger into my shoulder. “What the fuck did you call me!?” she snapped, her spiked tail lifting behind her like a loaded weapon.

Ah.

Pride issues. Quick temper. Can’t admit when she’s wrong.

Interesting.

I placed both hands on my hips and looked up at her calmly. “A bitch. Do you need it written down, or are you too dumb to understand?”

Okay, maybe calm wasn’t the right word.

If there was background music playing in my head, this was the part where the drums kicked in. Her red scales somehow looked even redder now. I was pretty sure she was inventing a new shade of rage. “That’s it! I’m gonna kill you—” She started to swing. But she didn’t get far. A massive hand clamped around her fist mid-motion.

“ENOUGH, YOU TWO!!” Coach Solly’s roar shook the walls. He stood between us now, gripping her arm with effortless strength. She struggled for half a second before realizing it was useless.

“Mia. To the benches!”

The name seemed to shock her more than the grip.

“But Coach Solly, he called me—”

“I know what he said,” Solly cut in firmly. “But I cannot allow you to assault another student in my gym.” She flinched at that. Her tail lowered slightly as she looked away with a frustrated growl. Solly released her hand and pointed across the court.

“Bench. Now.”

This time he didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. Mia snorted one last time before stomping off, venom still burning in her eyes. Then Solly turned to me. The gym went silent.

“As for you, Red,” he began.

Oh great. This is where I get buried.

“Go to the nurse.”

I blinked. “Uh… what?”

Solly rubbed his face briefly, then adjusted his cap and gave me that same stern look from earlier. “You heard me. Go get some ice for your head. That grip must’ve hurt.” I instinctively touched the sore spot again.

He glanced over at Mia, who was now sitting rigidly on the bench, staring daggers at me. “I’ll make sure you get credit for the period,” Solly continued. “Right now she needs to calm down.” Then he turned to the class. “CAN SOMEBODY ESCORT HIM TO THE NURSE’S OFFICE!?”

“I’ll do it,” came a familiar voice. The pink hybrid from earlier stepped forward. Solly gave an approving hum and nodded.

“If you’re still hurting after that,” Solly added quietly to me, patting my arm with a hand that felt like a brick wall, “I’ll excuse you for the rest of the day.” Then just like that, he turned away, whistle already at his lips, barking orders for the next round to start. I exhaled slowly. Okay. Maybe he wasn’t a complete tyrant.

I walked over to the bench to grab my bag, deliberately not looking at Mia at first. But I could feel her glare burning into the side of my face. “Your dead, Skinnie,” she muttered as I slung my bag over my shoulders. I didn’t respond. Didn’t even slow down.

By the time I pushed through the gym doors and stepped into the quieter hallway, the noise of the game muffled behind me. The doors swung shut with a heavy thud. I leaned back against them, letting my head rest lightly against the cool surface. This isn’t how I wanted my first day to go. Not like this. Not making enemies within the first hour. I closed my eyes for a moment and let out a slow breath. God… I always find a way to piss someone off.

“So…”

I nearly jumped out of my skin.

I whipped my head up to see the pink hybrid still standing there. Right. Escort. Forgot about that. I scrubbed a hand down my face and pushed myself off the gym doors. “Hey man, I, uh… sorry that happened back there.” I didn’t get to finish before he clapped a hand onto my shoulder.

“No problem, man! Besides, I wanted to say—you were amazing out there!”

That caught me off guard. I looked up at him properly this time as he started rambling about the game—how he’d been trying to line up a clean shot on me, how the curve throw threw him off completely, how he “did not see that coming at all, bro.”

A real smile tugged at my face before I could stop it. “Geez, thanks. I, uh… you were kicking ass too. Honestly didn’t think that throw would actually land on you.” He beamed, flashing a wide, toothy grin. “Thanks, bro.”

He blinked suddenly, then smacked the top of his own head. “Oh! Names Damine.” I raised a brow slightly at the name but didn’t question it. New school. New spelling. Whatever. I stuck out my hand. “Red.” He grinned again and took it in a firm shake. Solid grip. Athlete grip.

“Sorry, by the way,” he added suddenly.

I frowned. “For what?”

He rubbed the fin on his head awkwardly and glanced down. “I… kinda targeted you at the start of the game. For a split second I thought you were—”

“Some other human?” I finished, already feeling the edge creep back into my voice.

My arms folded over my chest before I even realized I’d crossed them. “Been hearing that since before class started. ‘Oh look, that one human.’ This and that. Whole damn morning.” I tilted my head back to stare at the ceiling for a second, jaw tight. My last school’s first day hadn’t been like this. Yeah, people noticed—but it wasn’t… constant.

“That’s… kinda why I’m apologizing,” Damine said quietly.

I looked back at him, face blank. He shook his head and muttered, “God, I’m really an idiot.” His hands were clenched now. Shoulders tense. He went quiet for a long moment, muttering something under his breath I couldn’t quite catch.

I stepped forward slightly, sliding my hands into my hoodie pocket. “You, uh… good there, dude?” He stiffened, then nodded quickly. “I’m fine. It’s just… something.” Something. Yeah. That sounded like something he didn’t want to unpack in a hallway.

Before I could press, he reached over and pushed open a nearby door. Nurse’s office. Right. Guess we’d arrived. Judging by the way he avoided eye contact, whatever “something” was, it wasn’t for me to dig into. We’d literally just met. And honestly? He’d already been way more welcoming than most of the people I’d run into today.

“Thanks for the walk,” I said, leaning back slightly. “And I accept your apology. It’s not every day you see a human at school, you know?” I smirked. He snickered softly at that, tension easing from his shoulders. “Yeah, guess not.” He gave me a nod before turning to head back down the hall. I watched him go for a second.

Yeah. He’s cool.

When I turned around, I was immediately met with an unimpressed stare. “Solly radioed ahead for me. Show me the damage.” The nurse stepped aside and motioned toward the row of beds in the back room. I followed, rubbing the sore spot on my scalp again. “Small dispute,” I explained as we walked. “Between me and… uh…” What was her name again?

Never mind.

“She pulled my hair. Hard enough to send me here, apparently.”

“Mm,” the nurse hummed, parting my hair gently to inspect the spot. “That explains it.”

She stepped back after a moment and reached into a nearby freezer, tossing me a small bag of ice. I barely caught it. “It’s nothing serious,” she continued, already scribbling something onto her clipboard. “You’ll be sore for a few hours.” I pressed the ice to my head with a wince. “Set your stuff down and wait until the next bell rings,” she added. “If it’s too much, I’ll call the office and have you sent home.”

Sent home?

On my first day?

That’s crazy.

I’m not letting one red-hot temper tantrum send me packing. No way.

I tossed my bag beside one of the seats and hopped up onto it, pulling my hood over my head as I leaned back against the wall. For I am Red Hayden Erring. And the tale of Stuntman Erring is only just beginning. “So… what’s the reason you’re here?”

The voice pulled me out of my dramatic internal monologue. I looked over and spotted a yellow Herrerasaurus lounging on a bed across the room, arms folded behind his head like this was a spa day. I snorted softly. “Some crazy dino chick pulled my hair. Thought it was a wig.” I adjusted the ice pack with a quiet growl. “Pulled so hard I had to get sent here. Hell of a first day.”

Seriously.

How do you manage to make an enemy in under an hour? It’s my first fucking day. I leaned my head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling tiles. Unless… Did this have something to do with that other human everyone keeps mentioning? Because if I’m getting blamed for someone else’s reputation, I swear—

“Heh. Sounds like Mia to me,” the yellow Herrerasaurus said with a shrug. He brushed the hair out of one of his green eyes and nodded toward me. “I got sent here because of this.” He lifted his arm slightly, showing off the cast wrapped around it.

I winced. “Fell?”

“You… could say that,” he muttered. “More like getting a check-up.” He leaned back into his seat like that explained everything. “Don’t worry about your grades when you’re here, though. Nurse excuses cover you. Free time. Sleep. Phone. Homework.” He unzipped his bag and immediately started working like this was a normal routine for him.

We didn’t talk much after that. He focused on his assignments while I scrolled on my phone. Out of curiosity, I searched up the school. St. Hammond, well known for its art programs, theater department, and drama productions. Of course. Musicals. Guess I’ll be working my lungs this semester.

As I skimmed through a few pages about upcoming classes, one headline made me pause.

“Tragic night for Hammond’s Winter Dance?” I muttered it under my breath, which made the yellow dino glance over. “Yeah, I heard about that,” he said. “Some kind of accident during winter formal last month. Good thing I wasn’t there. I heard someone got badly hurt.”

“Uh… who?” I asked.

“Don’t know. Just heard a human did it. Got arrested for some kind of crime.”

A human. “Wait,” I said, looking at him again. “Was this human… a student here?”

“Yeah, I think so. I barely saw them around, though.” That explained the stares. The whispers. The “that one human” comments all morning. They thought I was him. For a split second, the idea of just going home crept into my mind. This was already too much for a first day. But no. I wasn’t going to let someone else’s reputation stick to me.

I looked over at him. “Name’s Red.”

“Wyatt. Pleased to meet you, Red,” he said with a small smile before going back to his phone.

I hesitated, then tapped the article. The page loaded slowly on the school Wi-Fi. When it finally opened, it was packed with text. I skimmed until I found the summary: a student took a picture during the dance, something escalated, a fight broke out, and someone fell down a flight of stairs. The student responsible was arrested and sentenced to two years in jail.

Assault.

I scrolled down to a photo taken outside a hospital. Police cars lined the curb. A dino officer stood beside a young human in handcuffs. The sunglasses and split lip didn’t fully hide the black eye.

The caption read: “Inco Nito. Arrested for the assault charge of young handicapped student Olivia Halford.”

“Inco?” I muttered under my breath, staring at the name on the screen. Suspicious as hell… but also? Weirdly fitting for a human. Still. I hoped whoever Olivia Halford was… that she was okay.

I locked my phone and slid it into my pocket, rubbing the top of my head again. The soreness had settled in now—a dull, throbbing reminder—but it was manageable. I’d live. Time drifted by quietly until the first-period bell rang through the halls. I stood up, stretching out my arms with a low groan and came face-to-face with Coach Solly.

“Good to see you still standing, Mr. Erring,” the simian said, placing a heavy hand on my shoulder. I groaned again, this time from the weight of it. “You could say that.” He smirked, clearly amused by my suffering, and reached into a nearby bag. “You’ll be needing these.” He tossed a folded set of gym clothes at me.

Yellow. Bright. Ugly. Offensive yellow.

Where the hell was the red in our school colors?

Still, I muttered a thanks and shoved the clothes into my bag before looking back up at him. “I haven’t radioed the office yet,” Solly said, crossing his arms. “Are you good to continue the day?” I smiled lightly and nodded. “I’m not letting a simple hair-tugging jerk ruin my first day.” That earned me a wider grin. “Very well. I’ll escort you to your next class then, cadet.”

Before I could protest the nickname, he’d already turned and started marching out the door. The nurse just gave me a helpless shrug and handed over a doctor’s note before returning to her computer. I slung my bag over my shoulder and followed after Solly. The hallway was alive again between periods. “Now tell me, cadet,” he said as we walked, “what class do you have next?” I pulled my schedule from my pocket and scanned it. “Drama with Mr… Spies?”

The name barely left my mouth before Solly gasped dramatically and looked around like someone had just whispered a state secret. “I feel bad for you, soldier.” He slung an arm around my shoulders and leaned in close, lowering his voice. “That Spy used to teach at our arch enemy school—Blue High Sunrise.”

I blinked. “Our… what?”

“Be careful around him,” Solly continued seriously, glancing left and right like we were being surveilled. He abruptly spun me toward another hallway and pointed at a staircase. “Go that way.”

Then he leaned in even closer.

“Keep. A. Look out.”

With that, the grown simian man attempted to “sneak” away by ducking behind a trash can. I stared at him. “You know I can still see you,” I deadpanned.

“SHH!” he half-whispered loudly. “He might be listening with his blue brain!” And then finally, he disappeared down the hall. I stood there for a solid five seconds. “What the fuck is this school?” I muttered.

Honestly?

Between rival schools, dramatic coaches, wheelchair brawls, and criminal doppelgängers… this place might actually be perfect for me. Shaking my head, I adjusted my bag and climbed the stairs. When I reached the classroom and stepped inside, I was greeted by near darkness. The blinds were drawn. The lights were dim.

And every single pair of eyes in the room turned toward me.I paused in the doorway. Then smirked. Adjusting my bag strap, I gave a lazy two-finger salute. “Sorry,” I said smoothly. “I wasn’t late. I was… dramatically delayed.” A few students snickered. From the shadows near the front of the room, a slender, reddish Stegosaurus stepped forward, clipboard in hand, eyes sharp with interest.

“Ah, so you must be Red Erring?” the teacher asked in a smooth, theatrical accent.

I closed my eyes, shrugged, and smirked. “You could say that. People don’t seem to be entirely sure.” A few students chuckled at that. Mr. Spies hummed thoughtfully before gesturing toward the desks. I made my way over and dropped into a seat, glancing up at the board.

Romance Acts and Plays.

Oh boy.

I slumped slightly, letting out a long sigh as Mr. Spies launched into an enthusiastic explanation about the art of romance in theater—about longing looks, emotional tension, and the beauty of vulnerability. I opened the book and skimmed the first few pages.

Romance. Sap. Gross.

Who needs love when you could be doing insane stunt work for cash? Well… not just for cash. Still, the idea of dramatic confessions and tearful embraces wasn’t exactly my thing.

As I read, that familiar feeling crept back in—the sense of being watched. I glanced to my right. A few students were whispering quietly about the assignment. Nothing unusual. But when I looked to my left, I caught a couple of dinos snapping their eyes back down to their books a little too quickly.

Wonderful.

Drama felt more relaxed than VH, sure, but being stared at like this? That was getting old fast. I couldn’t help feeling out of place. Still, I wasn’t completely alone. I’d met Damine. Wyatt seemed decent enough. Even Coach Solly—crazy as he was—had my back. It’s my first day. For them, it’s their first day back after break… and after that accident.

Yeah, I guess one human can leave a bigger impact than I thought. When the bell rang, I packed up quickly, shoved my hands into my hoodie pockets, and headed out of the classroom. Back down the steps I went before stopping to pull out my schedule and check what was next.

AP Art – Mr. Wheatley. The principal did say she tried to match my old schedule, so I guess she wasn’t lying. I turned right back around and headed up the stairs, scanning the hallway until I found the art room. Inside, a few students were already seated, chatting while laying out their supplies—sketchbooks, pencil rolls, even paint sets. I slipped into an open seat and pulled a simple notepad from my bag. Since it was my first day, I figured I could get away with being a little unprepared.

Right on cue, a blue raptor in a sharp blue suit strode to the front of the room. His spiked hair was styled so precisely it practically screamed professional. After adjusting it one last time, he suddenly slammed both hands onto the desk.

“HELLO, CLASS!”

I instinctively shrank in my seat. Why do all the teachers here have to shout?

He spun around, uncapped a marker, and wrote his name across the board in dramatic cursive “You may call me Mr. Wheatley,” he announced, pointing a claw outward. “Not Wheely—Wheatley. I will be your new art instructor, which also makes you one of the first students I’ll be teaching!” He paused thoughtfully. “Though… I did already teach the first two periods.” Shaking off his own confusion, he slammed his hands down again. “Regardless!”

“For your first and simple assignment—your name! Your passion! And your TALENTS!”

He wrote the three words on the board beside his name and added a small star for emphasis. “Write them in a style that best represents you. Doodle it. Sketch it. Use pencils, oil pastels, brushes—let the page show me who you are!”

He struck what I swear was an anime-style pose.

God, this guy is lame. Still… I had to admit, the passion was there. Around me, students began pulling out colored pencils, charcoal sticks, and paint brushes. Meanwhile, I looked down at my own supplies. One pencil. I blinked at it before sighing. Getting my schedule sorted this morning really threw me off. PE was easy—you just sweat. But art? I didn’t even expect to have an art class.

Alright. Easy fix. I’ll just ask my desk buddy for a colored pencil.

Yeah… that should work.

I look to my left and—

Oh… shit.

Well, I never imagined art class could get awkward this fast, but here I am. Sitting next to me is the wheelchair-bound green Baryonyx girl I accidentally bumped into with my skateboard, shooting me a stink eye sharp enough to kill a fly. How did I not notice her when getting to class? More importantly… how in Raptor Jesus’ name did I not see her at all? She’s in a wheelchair!

“Hey,” I snapped out of my thoughts, looking at her.

“Mind not looking at me?” she spat, venom in her voice.

“O-Oh! Well, I uh—”

“It’s annoying me,” she grunted, slapping her tail lightly on the ground and looking back down at her page. I blinked, cleared my throat, and tried again. “Sorry, I uh… didn’t mean to. I kinda got lost in my thoughts and was hoping to ask for—”

She cut me off with another tail smack and a low growl. I sighed, lowering my gaze to my notepad. Great. Not even proper drawing paper. I slouched in defeat, resting my forehead on the desk.

“Is there an issue?” Mr. Wheatley’s voice cut through, and I slowly looked up to see the blue Raptor teacher smiling down at me. I scratched the back of my head. “I uh… don’t have any art tools,” I admitted. He hummed, studying my face carefully, then snapped his claws dramatically. “You must be the new student!” Relief hit me—I wasn’t being mistaken for that other human.

“Yeah… people around the school kept thinking I was someone else,” I mumbled, scratching the back of my head again. Wheatley hummed thoughtfully, then looked down at my notepad, furrowing his brow. “Do you have any art equipment?”

I glanced at the pad, then shrugged lightly. “I was just transferred here, so I didn’t know I’d even have art class. Scaler said it was too late to change anyway—end of the year stuff.” Wheatley nodded and patted my back. “Come with me to the back room. I believe I can supply you with a few writing utensils.”

I stood, following him to the door. When it opened, I blinked at the enormous back room. Machines of all kinds sat dormant, collecting dust until needed. “Wow… you really have enough supplies to teach just about anything,” I muttered. Wheatley nodded slightly.

“Indeed. These belonged to the previous teacher,” he said, pointing a claw toward one of the boxes. I stepped closer and read the label.

Art Property of Iadakan.

“Did you know the guy?” I asked, curiosity slipping into my voice.

The blue Raptor glanced at me, then back down at the box he was sorting, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Sure did. Met him back in college, after I moved from Donden to get my degree,” he said, his voice softening as the smile faded. “But… I never got the chance to say goodbye.”

I looked up at him, feeling the weight of his words. Oh. The previous art teacher had passed away. That’s… awful.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” I said quietly, earning a small, appreciative smile from him. He chuckled softly, breaking the tension.

“It’s funny,” he mused, shifting some of the boxes aside. “It’s my first day as a teacher, and it’s your first day here. Maybe… maybe destiny had a hand in bringing you to St. Hammonds.”

I let out an awkward whistle, glancing to my right. “Yeah… maybe it did,” I muttered, not wanting to explain why I’d been transferred here in the first place.

Wheatley moved another box closer and slowly opened it, revealing erasers, poster paper, and a neat set of colored pencils—perfect for a start. “Does this help at all?” he asked, gesturing for me to take some of the tools. I grabbed the box of pencils, giving him a grateful nod.

“It does. Gracias,” I said, hefting the small set in my hands and stepping back toward the door, nudging it open with my foot. Wheatley gave the back room a last glance, humming thoughtfully. “I’ll be back in a moment. There’s something I want to look for,” he said, waving me off. I nodded and left the room, ready to finally settle in.

I set my new pencils on the desk and began thinking about what to draw. At my previous school, I’d doodled here and there, nothing too fancy. Pulling out my main pencil, I started a small outline—curves twisting this way and that—before finishing with two big eyes and a pug nose on the muzzle. “Ah yes. Pugs,” I muttered, smiling proudly at the little sketch of my beloved Gojo.

Slap… slap…

I furrowed my brow at the sound, glancing to my left. A green tail lightly slapped the desk beside me. Heh. Funny. I looked up at my grumpy desk buddy and snorted. “You think this looks a bit much?” I asked. She moved one clawed arm to peek at my doodle, muttered something under her breath, then buried her head back into her paper. Shrugging, I turned back to my own work. After a moment, I started a rough sketch of a handsome human in red—me. I focused on getting the upper torso just right, imagining the pose I wanted him to have.

Slap… slap…

Another glance to my left. The Baryonyx had lifted her head, pencil—or rather claw—gliding across her paper. That was… actually impressive. “Cool trick,” I muttered, and she looked up briefly, frowned, then growled softly. “Thanks,” she said, resting her head on the desk again.

I leaned back, admiring my work—a proud doodle of myself and Gojo. A little self high-five moment. But then I glanced at her paper. Lines, black and red, arms and legs scribbled all over it… and my gut twisted. 

Wait a minute…

“Is that me?” I asked quietly, leaning over to get a closer look.

Before I could, a clawed hand slapped down onto the page, snapping it away from me. I recoiled slightly, looking up at the growling Baryonyx. “Stop looking,” she warned, both claws gripping the wheels of her chair.

I raised a hand defensively. “Lo siento… no era mi intención ser grosero—”

Shit! Wrong language.

“I… uh, I meant—”

“Just shut up!” she barked, wheeling back sharply before rolling down the rows of desks and out the door. The sudden movement left a ripple of quiet across the classroom.

Mr. Wheatley emerged from the back room, his blue scales glinting under the fluorescent lights. “What’s going on out here—Wait, Olivia, what’s the matter—”

The Baryonyx didn’t let him finish. She swung the door open and slammed it shut behind her, leaving the room in a heavy, awkward silence. Wheatley froze for a beat, his expression a strange mix of annoyance and understanding, then slowly returned to his desk without another word.

“Back to work, class,” he finally said, letting out a long sigh as he rubbed at his spiked hair.

I shifted in my seat, glancing left and right, biting the inside of my cheek. I had only wanted to see what she was drawing, and now… I felt the weight of the awkwardness pressing down. Slowly, I slumped further in my chair, shoulders heavy, letting my mind replay the scene over and over.

Was it my fault?