Authors Note: The following chapters are set in 1994. For some reason, I kind of thought of the series being set around this time since video tapes and other technology seemed outdated, despite Pokemon and Harry Potter shout outs. Besides, this is my version of the show to create, and therefore I can take this liberty with canon.

Hypnotize Me

It was only the first day of my last year at Endsville School. Seventh grade. All I had to do was finish seventh grade, spend my five years in high school hell, and then I'd be done with it all. I could go to college. I didn't care where as long as it was far away from Mindy Vogue. But no. Apparently, all our adventures throughout the past two years of grade school were only the beginning. And who did we all owe the great honor of being trapped inside a hellish distortion of what we once knew? None other than my own best friend, Billy Nimrod. The name fits, as you can tell. In conclusion? Things were pretty fucked at Endsville. But I guess I should start from the beginning.

It all began when I woke up on the Nimrods' couch this morning. Evidently, my own parental units have grown to fear my wrath so much that they can't even be bothered to search for me. Fantastic. I went about a typical morning routine, seeing as it was about six. It was a way to avoid Billy and Mrs. Nimrod before I had eaten anything, and could therefore handle their respective brainlessness and lunacy. I showered and dried my hair. I was slightly annoyed by the products of puberty and its effects upon me. I had grown out my hair by choice, which was a tolerable change in my appearance. However, the slight buds growing on my chest were not. I had asked Grim to rid me of the annoying pinpricks, sort of like free plastic surgery, but he refused, saying that it would be "straight up gross." Considering that he had seen brains splattered all over sidewalks, the remains of a cannibal's meal, and what Donatella Versace will look like once her nearly plastic body decomposes (a misadventure I'd rather not delve into), I didn't see the issue, but I left it alone. I threw yesterday's clothes: denim shorts, a denim vest, and a black t-shirt. After all, seventh grade meant no more uniforms. When I was done getting dressed, I went back into the living room, hoping that I could get have a few moments' peace watching the morning news. But to my misfortune, Grim had risen at this early hour. Which could only mean one thing.

"Hi, Mands," Billy yelled, taking me from being a morning zombie going through the motions into my typical self: an entirely irritated twelve-year-old girl whose dreams of world domination seemed all too far away.

"Hello, Billy," I replied, my voice dripping with vexation.

"Do you know what today is," he asked excitedly.

"The first day of seventh grade," I replied.

"Yeah! We're seventh graders! We rule the school! Yeah! We're gonna graduate! Yeah! Woohoo!"

"You can only hope," I reminded him. "You have to actually pass seventh grade to graduate."

"Woohoo! Passing!"

"Can you shut up, Billy," Grim snapped. "I'm tryin' ta watch mah show here."

I turned my head to see E! News on the screen. Apparently Cindy Crawford's marriage is on the rocks and the Prince of Monaco was spotted yachting with naked skanks. So, obviously, Grim was keeping up with the important news. I looked over at Billy, who was picking his new nose. Ever since an accident in sixth grade, Billy's nose had changed. It was still huge, but it had gotten flattened onto his face. It was sort of beakish now, like John Cusack's. But he still almost always had a finger up it. I scrunched my nose in disgust and turned away. A week from Friday was the first seventh grade dance, and all the girls were in a tizzy about being asked and wearing dresses and the boys having to wear button up shirts and jackets. But as far as I could tell, nothing was different about any of the guys. Nothing could my hormones to flare up. Irwin was still a wannabe Fresh Prince who needed to realize he was an Urkel, that boy Sperg was still a Mommy's boy who picked on others to feel better about himself, Pud'n was still a wimp, and most of all Billy was still the most monumental idiot on the face of the earth. But at this time, my only worry were breakfast and catching the bus on time. That was all before first period. Before Billy pissed off Mr. Catherine.

"Tee hee," Billy giggled in the middle of the new English teacher, Mr. Catherine's overview of the syllabus. "You've gots a lady name. Catherine."

The guy narrowed his eyes at Billy. I couldn't help but admit I was somewhat...impressed by Mr. Catherine's...authority. Okay, I'll admit it. I had the hots for him. But that was the beauty of the teacher crush. Unlike the Piff incident, I would never be forced to do a damn thing about it. And it was somewhat obvious why I would attracted to the man. He was somewhat rugged-looking. Greasy hair, long sideburns, a thick tan, and a lean build. He could have only been thirty at the oldest. And my God, his stare. But, um, I should get back to the point. How Billy ruined everything.

"Mr. Nimrod," he intoned. "Is there anything else you would like to say?" "Yeah," Billy said. "I hopes for we gets to read my favorite book again. I love The Hungry Hungry Caterpillar." Mr. Catherine narrowed his eyes tighter.

"That's third grade reading material, Nimrod."

Billy blinked innocently. "Your point?"

Mr. Catherine sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. I noticed he was starting to go bald. Well, no one's perfect. Except for me, possibly. I stared at him and tossed my hair. Maybe growing my hair out was worth something. I saw Mr. Catherine glance at me, so I tossed my hair again. In add to my pleasure, a few strands flew into Mindy's face. I smirked, watching her look disgusted by the sight of some stray hairs in her otherwise pristine notebook. "Miss Baleful," Mr. Catherine said. I looked into his brown eyes. One time, this summer, after I finished The Art of War, I happened to persue a few of my mother's Harlequins. Those novels really romanticized eyes. I wonder how I could describe Mr. Catherine's. Rich chocolate brown or burnt sienna orbs that glistened like a beautiful sunset...Jesus, where did that come from?

"Miss Baleful," he said again, sounding more irritated. "Would you be willing to..."

My thoughts drifted away to a ballroom filled with my classmates. They all parted in awe as they saw me, Mandy Baleful. I was the most beautiful, most radiant young woman in the room. That dorkus Irwin passed out at the sight of my dress, a lacy red spaghetti strapped number. I walked past my meaningless peers into the arms of my one and only, my true love. Mr. Catherine. "Mandy, would you be willing to let me have this dance?"

We slow danced cheek to cheek to The Pretenders' "I'll Stand By You." Somewhere, in the back of my brain, I felt like retching or gagging at such a John Hughes moment. But some foreign part of myself embraced the entire fantasy. Only one flaw appeared in my daydream. Billy pushed himself between us.

"Man-dee. Man-dee. Man-dee..." I felt myself snap back into my English classroom, with the pest poking my arm frantically. "Mr. Catalina has a question for you."

I felt myself turn red as I turned my head back to the front of the room, where Mr. Catherine was glaring at me the same way I had glared at Billy. "Miss Baleful," he snapped. "If it is of no inconvenience, would you drop this note off at the main office? Or would such a task be above your competence level?"

I felt my entire face burn red as Mindy and her lackeys snickered. I was so embarrassed that Mr. Catherine thought I was stupid. Again, the back of my brain was hollering that I should be angry, furious even. But the foreign invasion suggested shame over fury. Something was wrong with me. I couldn't put my finger on it, but something was horribly wrong. I grabbed the paper from Mr. Catherine's hand and raced out of the room, feeling ashamed, but more so, frightened. What was going on? I walked to the main office, still caught in another daydream. I couldn't help but wonder if Mr. Catherine was married. Or if he had a girlfriend. I hoped he didn't. I hoped he noticed me today. I turned the corner and placed the note on the secretary's desk before rushing out. I couldn't wait to get back to class. Back to Mr. Catherine. But little did I know, my crush on the English teacher would fade. Not only would it be replaced, but it would turn into pure hatred.