Your name is DAVE STRIDER.
You wake up to the sound of your cell phone alarm; it reads 7 A.M. and you already hate today. It is your first day as a freshman at Alternia High, a school in the city your brother has recently relocated you to. With a sigh, you roll out of bed, shades immediately on your face. There is a beep in your hand; it's your cell, seems as if it's one of your friends.
[ghostlyTricker has begun pestering turntechGodhead]
GT: hey dave!
GT: i don't know if you're awake yet or not, but I hope you have a good day!
GT: good luck with the new school and all
TG: yeah im up
TG: thanks
TG: i guess
GT: oh i hope i didn't wake you!
TG: nah
TG: i was already up anyway
GT: well i gotta go, i have school too
GT: have a good day, dave!
[ghostlyTrickster had ceased pestering turntechGodhead]
TG: yeah
TG: you too
Looking at the time again, you decide there's time to shower. After all, school doesn't even start until 8:30, and you have no idea why your alarm was set so early. Probably fucking Bro again. As you make your way to the bathroom, you realize how eerily empty the new apartment is, seeing as your Bro hasn't unpacked all his fucking creepy ass smuppets or shitty swords. That's one good thing about moving, at least; that's what you think.
In the shower, a hot, very quick one, you leave your shades on. As a newly turned fourteen year old, your life has been pretty messed up. Your parents died when you were young, so Bro basically raised you. He was nineteen or so when they passed on. It was surprising he never begrudged you for being such a burden (although he did like to mention all his sacrifices for you).
Turning off the water, you quickly change before your brother wakes. This became a ritual around middle school. If you took too long getting ready he'd leave you. Or, mess with you as you get ready. Hence why you dress so quickly. Fuck being messed with. It usually meant a bad day. And seeing as he had no chance today, you took it as a good omen.
"Wake the fuck up," you stand at your brother's door – well, where the door used to be. He's suddenly behind you, his creepy ass puppet partner, Cal (who is ironically cool, anyway), is on your shoulder.
"I haven't slept yet, bro. Let's get this ass show on the road, shall we?" With that, Bro was already at the door.
Fucking douche.
Grabbing the motorcycle helmet he made you wear (for safety, he claimed – to fucking humiliate you is what you hypothesize), you try to copy his flashstepping, flashing not as quickly downstairs as he did. "Come on kid, I'm ancient over here."
"You're ancient everywhere, old man," you respond, slipping the helmet over your head and yourself on the bike, trying not to grab onto Bro as much as possible. "I don't wanna be fucking late."
"You won't be. Promise," he laughed, revving up and taking off suddenly. You were flying. You held fast to Bro's waist, gripping his shirt.
"Fucking douche," you mutter into his back, although your words were lost in the wind.
BRO STRIDER was a DJ. He moved you two around a lot looking for work, he claimed. For now, he settled in a Texas city, saying the gig would be a more stable than all his other jobs combined. You were glad for it, finally a place to rest and maybe call home. Not that you care about 'home' much anyway. It was just fucking tiring to move from place to place. Although it helped you improve your cool, stoic personality toward other people; it was always fun, ironically of course, to have people squirm when they didn't know which way your eyes were looking with your sunglasses on.
"What'd I tell you, little bro?" Bro laughed as he came to a sudden halt. There it stood. Alternia High.
You half jumped – half fell of the bike, Bro effortlessly stepping off it. "Come on, lil' bro. Even Cal is smoother than that. Let's go meet your new principal." With that your brother began to walk to the doors of the building, you clambering clumsily behind him. Fuck, this stupid helmet was throwing your balance way off, so you quickly take it off, checking your surroundings. A couple of kids glance your way but no one really does anything.
"Goddamn, you're so slow," Bro hisses in your ear, before walking away again. This time you hurry, in a very cool manner. This fucking school looks old. "Good morning," Bro was using his adult voice, you note. "We're here to see Principal… Scratch. I'm Mr. Strider, and this is my brother, David."
"Oh, of course. Please have a seat right over there," the receptionist gestures at some chairs. "And Dr. Scratch will be right with you."
"Doctor?" Your brother inquires, probably trying to prolong the conversation. After all, the chick was a babe. You sit down, regardless of what your brother is trying to accomplish, and stare out of the windows in the office.
You notice two kids hunched together, one of them with giant headphones, and the other looks like he's rapping (From what you can read by his lips, he's shitty at it too). The one with the headphones has a Mohawk, and the headphones have a purple Capricorn sigil on them. Strange, you think. He seems to be Hispanic. The other kid looks like a juggalo pothead, make sure to avoid him you think. Memorizing their faces, you file it away – Mohawk guy may prove to be an amiable acquaintance.
"Strider?" You hear a man call and look to see who it is. 'Dr. Scratch' has a shaven head, but a nice little almost-goatee. How fucking ironic. Don't all villains have those? Regardless, he talked in a very pompous accent (Again, signaling him as the villain), and a very primp suit. What a douchebag, you decide immediately.
You follow your brother into the office, sitting across from where Dr. Scratch has already taken a seat. He stares at you with these penetrating bright green eyes, before smiling, "Welcome to Alternia High School, David."
"It's Dave," you mutter, but of course, you don't really care what he calls you.
"Dave, my mistake. In any case, I have here your schedule. Now, here at Alternia, we offer many after school activities. I've looked at the paper you filled out when enrolling here, and some of your interests seem to fit the clubs we host here. I have taken the liberty of typing them out for you, along with meeting times, sponsors, and room numbers, in case you would like to check them out. Of course, we require that you must join at least one club and be an active member of it. Your map of the school is with your schedule, and, even if you do get lost, any and all of our students would be more than happy to assist you. Any questions?"
You shake your head no, as does your brother. Wow, this douchebag probably thinks he's perfect.
"Very well then, Dave. You know where to find me. Oh, and Mr. Strider, here's the form for the Parent-Teacher-Student-Association. We would love if you could join – A parent involved with the school is statistically prove to have a child who does better in school. Have a good day , both of you," he ushered you out with a smile.
"What a prick," Bro mutters, crumpling up the PTSA paper. "As if I'd join this shit. Well, go on, little man. Be amoung your peers. Let them embrace you!" He laughed, taking the helmet from your hands.
"Fuck off, you're embarrassing me."
"Whatever, man. I'll be back around four to pick you up. Motherfucking behave, douche."
You watched the doors open and close, not really seeing your brother leave due to his flashstepping, but you assume he's finally gone. Turning to the 'Great Hall', as your map says, you look around again. Most kids were already filing into classes, seeing as first period started in five minutes.
Then your cell phone beeps.
[tentacleTherapist has begun pestering turntechGodhead]
TT: Have you already been given your schedule?
TT: Strider?
TG: yeah
TG: why the fuck do you want to know
TT: I was merely curious, is all.
TT: What classes are you taking?
TG: none of your fucking business
TG: thats what
TT: My, testy today aren't we?
TT: I understand it is hard to start at a new school, but don't lash out, Strider.
TG: fuck
TG: are you bothering me
TG: to fucking analyze me again?
TG: fuck lalonde
TG: i don't got time for this shit
TT: You don't *have* time for this shit, you mean.
TT: And I apologize.
TT: I merely wished to grant you a 'good luck'.
TG: fuck then just do it
TT: Good luck.
[tentacleTherapist has ceased pestering turntechGodhead]
TG: wait
TG: i just wanna say
TG: starting over is hard.
You sigh and rush to your first hour. God fucking damnit. This was not going to be as fun as you wished. Because, if you had to tell the truth, what you said was what you feared the most. Even if you were the coolest, most ironic motherfucker to have ever lived, what if no one here liked you? Of course, you knew you shouldn't be too worried about that. After all, you were a Strider. Fuck. You were DAVE STRIDER.
You could do this. Fuck, you'd probably have to fight the ladies off.
But, as you walked into class, everyone looked up. Almost all the seats were filled, everyone had someone to talk to, everyone had a friend. Fuck. Except for you.
"Hello! You must be the new student!" You were greeted by the cheeriest bitch to have ever lived (and could probably rival both Jade and John put together). "Would you like to introduce yourself?"
"Not really," you reply, scanning the room for some seat for yourself. Fuck. The only one was close to the front, where everyone would be staring at you. Fuck.
"Oh. Well, can you say your name for the entire class?" She was one of those teachers, wasn't she? The ones who never gave up on any student. Those bitches were always fucking annoying, no matter what their intentions were.
With a sigh, you shrugged, "Dave."
"Dave…what?" She encouraged.
"Why don't you tell me your name first, miss teacher?" You challenged. Stupid. You shouldn't have said that.
"Oh right! Where are my manners, Dave. I am Mrs. Crocker. And this is English. Now, last name?"
You finally give in, "Strider."
"Well, Mr. Strider, if we're done being mysterious, why don't you take a seat? The seat behind Tavros seems to be empty. Mister Nitram, raise your hand please." You saw MOHAWK BOY in the very front raise his hand, and you almost smile. Almost. At least it's a familiar face, to you anyway, even if he didn't know who you were.
"Nice hair," you mutter to the kid (Tavros, dumbfuck) as you sit behind him.
"Uh, t-thanks, I think," he mutters nervously, turning to look at you.
"Don't mention it," you reply, really hoping he stops staring at you, because DAMN. The boy had some pretty peepers. "I like your headphones," you mention, nodding at them, seeing as they were still around his neck.
"Oh, t-they're… uh, not mine. They b-belong t-to uh, my friend," he smiles, a blush spreading across his face. Hm, maybe he had a thing for the juggalo. Just. Fucking. Awesome.
"Hm," is all you say before the teacher calls the class to attention. You're not really paying attention. This may be a Pre-AP class, but shit, you're hella smart.
You glance around, and catch the eyes of some chick in the back. She sticks her tongue out at you, winking. Wow. Forward. She has shoulder-length hair, flipping out at the ends, and her feet were up on the desk, covered in red sneakers – much like your own. The girl smiled again and nudged the girl next to her; she had longer hair, messy and slightly curly, wearing a leather jacket and glasses. She glared at you, sitting in almost the same position as her friend.
"Terezi Pyrope and Vriska Serket, please sit like ladies. Or at least, get your feet off the desks!" The teacher shouted. "And Mr. Strider, turn around please and pay attention. You too, Tavros." She turned back to talking to a student who just walked in and gave her a student pass; he seemed kinda pissed off.
Well, you were right after all. Take that Lalonde and stuff it.
Starting over was hard.
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Just did a bit of re-editing; Bro is very hard to write :c
also, next chapter TROLLS. Who are also VERY hard to write for. Adjfkhadjfads
Don't kill me okay?