The School Life of The Other Demon

Lab Partners

Demetria's P.O.V.:

"Okay, class," Mr. Monegel says, our science teacher. "Today, we will be dissecting a frog." The man before us stands in front of the whole class, clasping his hands. His plaid button-down shirt and his tight jeans, hug skinny legs. His icy blue eyes stare widely at each of us, his quiffed hair, exposing his large forehead, makes it even weirder. It may just be me, but he seems a little more on the feminine side.

Our science class is a little different from the other classes. Instead of desks put together, it's just three large black tables, creating rows, starting from the front of the room to the back. Each table consists of two students, and luckily enough, Damian and I have found one where we can sit together.

We found an empty table at the front corner of the class, very visible to the teacher. Just like last class, we had expected Tim to walk into the class with confidence. However, the moment he had stepped foot into the classroom, he instantly walked out, seeing who the teacher was.

"Sorry, guys," he whispers. "I can't be in this class."

"Why not I ask him?"

"As much as I love science, this guy annoys the living hell out of me. I'm not willing to go through a class with him again. Good luck," he said, walking out of the class and waving us off.

"Where are you going, Drake?" Damian asked.

"I'll be sitting outside the classroom doing some work or probably napping."

That was about ten minutes ago. He had left us in this room full of prepubescent zygotes, emitting foul smells.

Monegel hands every table a dead frog, a tray, gloves, and medical equipment used to cut the dead creature open.

"Please tell me that the foul smell within this room is the frogs," I tell Damian.

"I wish I could, sister," Damian replies. "The fishy smell of this deceased frog is far more pleasant than the mixture of that girl's overuse of perfume and that boy's foul B.O."

"Gross!" a voice exclaims, catching our attention. "What's that smell?!"

"That is the smell of frogs, Jayden," Monegel deadpans.

"It's disgusting."

Damian and I look up towards the door to find not one, not two, but three buffoons.

"Tch. It's them again," Damian growls. "How many classes do we have with these people?"

"Babe!" Scope exclaims.

"Great," I sigh. I look at the three of them to find wide smiles on their face. Behind them, near the door, stands Tim staring daggers at the back of their head.

The three of them begin to approach Damian and me without hesitation. Upon their eagerness to sit with us, Tim walks into the class, not caring about being bored or annoyed by the teacher anymore.

"Hey, Mr. Monegel," Tim says, walking through the doors and over to our table.

"Hello, Tim. What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?" Monegel asks.

"I should," Tim says, walking past the buffoons and pushing them to the side. He reaches our table and pulls up a chair, sitting next to me. "But my teacher isn't here. So instead of going to the cafeteria to relax, I thought that I might join my siblings on their first day of school."

"Oh, yes," Monegel says. "I forgot that these two are the Wayne twins. Would you two like to introduce yourselves to the class?"

Damian and I shake our heads without hesitation, not even bothering to think about the question. All of the other introductions had led to nothing but boiling annoyance.