Chapter 1: School Time

The sun was setting, filling the room with darkness. I slipped out of my shoes and put my sword on my night stand. I swapped my day clothes for my pajamas, or PJs, as I liked to call them. I unzipped my sleeping bag on my bed and stepped inside of it. My ears caught Jake gettig himself settled under the covers, but then turning towards me. "Don't you ever take that hood off?" Jake asked.

"Meh," I replied. "Not unless I'm washing it or someone asks me to." Even now, going to sleep, I had my bear cub hood on.

"Whatever, dude," Jake said, letting it go he rolled back over onto his other side. "Good night, BMO!" he shouted out to wherever our intelligent console was. "Good night, Finn," Jake said to me.

"'Night, bud," I said, letting my eyes close. It felt like I had only closed my eyes, but despite thate, it felt like someone was shaking me awake already.

"Wake up, Finn," Jake said.

"Dude, let me sleep," I mumble to him.

Didn't he fall asleep. Yeah, he did. Why is he—

"DUDE!" my foster brother yelled in my ear. "WAKE UP!"

I yelled out, flailing my limbs and falling on the floor, while Jake laughed at my misfortune. "Ha ha, very funny, bro," I said sarcastically to him. He just snickered while moving my limp body with his shoe.

Shoe? In the morning?

"Dude, we got school today," Jake said. "We're meeting Lady and Marceline today. Hurry up!"

I moaned as I picked myself off the floor. Jake was already dressed in his signature yellow hoodie, a dandelion yellow shirt, and blue jeans. I dragged my body over to the dresser and looked inside. Light blue shirt? Check. Dark blue shorts? Check. Bear hood? Hood...hood...

Oh, yeah. It was on my head. I never really take it off. Well, not unless...

Not unless I'm washing it or someone asks me to.

I shook my head, dispersing my head of memories of my dream. I changed my clothes and slipped on my armband. Rushing, I ran into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, the whole she-bang. Slipping on my shoes and grabbing my light and dark green backpack, I sped out the door, only to see Jake looking at his watch.

"Three minutes and twenty-eight seconds," Jake timed. "Sweet," I said, as we raced down the stairs. We arrived at the dinner table where Pops was reading the paper. There were two bags, labeled 'Finn' and 'Jake' on the table, each with some Lumpy Space Cereal.

"Hello, boys," my foster dad said. Pops was a bit on the portly side, rounded but not fat. He was wearing a brown suit and slacks, with a black shirt beneath it and fancy leather shoes. His face was a bit gruff, but very warm to people. He was caring and kind, especially to me and Jake, but could get scary when angry. However, he was a good father to me, and that's what's important to me.

"Mom left you your breakfast," Pops said from behind the newspaper he was reading. "Thanks, Pops!" Jake and I chorused as we took our lunches and ran out the door. We passed by the occasional neighbor, and waved, but never stopped running until we got to the bus, where Marceline and Lady were waiting.

"Dudes," Marceline said to the duo as they got in the bus, "we had to stall the bus driver for five minutes. What took you?"

"Finn took too long to get up," Jake answered.

Marceline looked at me with what I thought was pity. "One of your dreams again?" she asked. I nodded in response. I only told a handful of people about my weird dreams, and only to close friends. Especially to those who were in the dreams. But Marcy's look of pity was still a bit weird.

Marceline Abbadeer was the goth of the school. Her skin was very pale and she had long dark hair, both contrasting each other drastically. She wore a leather choker and leather wristbands, both with plastic spikes on them. Today she was wearing a low-cut, black t-shirt that stopped just above her stomach, with a red broken heart on it. Beneath that, she was wearing a gray miniskirt and black netted leggings, and completed by black running shoes. Her father was the warden of the Nightosphere Prison, so she had a lot of money to buy clothes. She was also one of Finn's best friends.

Marcy sighed and sunk in to the back seat of the bus, Finn following suit. Jake and Lady were across from them, whispering to each other.

Lady was actually her name. Her full name was Lady Rain, but that was because it is a translation of her Korean name. She was Korean, but here on a transfer program. She had very long blonde hair — like, to waist level. She always wore bright colors, so today she was wearing a rainbow dress and rainbow kneesocks. She was a complete contrast to Marcy, but they got along well, especially since Marcy is the one hosting her. Lady was also Jake's girlfriend, so she was a friend to me.

Marcy and I made small talk while the bus drove on. "How's life been?", "What's new?", "Did you understand the homework?", et cetera. We manage to make conversation until the bus pulled up to Ooo High School. Yeah. 'Ooo' High School, named after our principal, Derek K. Ooo. He had a daughter who was also enrolled at this school. Speaking of which...

"Hi, Finn!" Penelope Barton Ooo, or PB, called out to me. "Hi, Marcy!"

Penelope Barton Ooo was the daughter of the principal and one of my best friends. Penelope (or Penny, or PB, depending on who was asking) had bright pink eyes to match her bright pink hair (she told us it was natural. Some cell discoloration or something). Today she was wearing a white long-sleeved shirt with a bright pink sweater vest over it. Around her waist was a red and yellow checkered skirt that was strapped into place by a red leather belt with a golden buckle. Like Marcy, she was wearing netted leggings, but her's were pink, as opposed to Marcy's black. She was also wearing her pink sneakers. (I'm fairly certain her favorite color is pink. Not sure why, though)

"Hey PB," I replied. Marcy said, "'Sup?"

"Nothing much," PB said. PB, Marcy, and I had home room in the History Building, while Jake and Lady had homeroom in the Science Building. Both were in opposite directions, so we had to split up in the morning. "I have to finish my science project by tomorrow and finish my English paper in a week," PB continued.

"Man, you take so many classes, PB," I said to her. "Had do you stay on track?"

PB just shrugged in response. "I just deal with it," she answered. "Marcy, don't you have any projects?"

"Nah," Marcy said, "I had a production project to do, but we finished it in a week, so I'm scot free." Marcy turned to me. "Finn?"

"No projects," I said, "but I do have to find a really cool thing to bring in for Adventuring Club."

PB had a noise that sounded suspiciously like a scoff. "Finn, that club is so stupid," she berated.

"It's fun!" I defended. "We go out hiking and stuff! Plus, I got really strong from it," I said, making a muscle. "Unlike flabby arms, over here," I teased, pinching PB's arm.

"Finn!" PB yelled, her face red — but whether from anger or embarrassment, only she knew. Marcy stifled a giggle as PB ran around chasing me, but I easily kept out of her reach. Finally, after another minute of PB and me playing cat and mouse, Marcy broke us up.

"OK, guys, time to get to class," Marcy said, still smiling. I slowed down, several feet ahead of PB and Marcy. PB just made a frown and grumbled under her breath. We made it to our history class without further incident, and Marceline's smile grew as she opened the door. "Hello, Mr. Petrikov!" Marcy greeted.

Simon Petrikov, our history teacher, looked up from his papers. "Ah! Hello, Marceline, Penelope," he greeted. His eyes located me standing behind them and narrowed slightly. "Hello, Finn," he said a tad frostily.

"Hi, Mr. P!" I greeted back, unabashed. I was a bit on his bad side for the number of pranks I've pulled, but it wasn't that much! Just a few pies, a water bucket, and a rubber chicken! But he still treated me a bit different than the rest.

I trotted over to my seat in the very back of the classroom and leaned back in my chair. Marceline sat to in front of me and PB took her seat in front of Marcy's desk. We waited as Mr. P called out names, calling out "Here!" when appropriate. Finally, Mr. P check off the last name and put his clipboard down, but remained standing which was different.

He cleared his throat and said, "Today, class, we will be getting a new transfer student. She"—the male population of the class, minus Finn, broke out into excited whispers—"is new here, and I expect all of you to treat her with respect." There was a knock on the door as Mr. Petrikov finished his announcement. "That must be her. Come in!" he called to the student.

When the new student walked in, multiple things happened. I leaned forward, Marcy stopped playing with her pencil, and PB looked up from writing whatever she was writing. All eyes were on the girl that walked into the classroom.

'She...she looks kinda like me,' I thought. She really did. She was wearing a light blue t-shirt that only went down to her stomach, like Marceline, but was probably a bigger size to cover her boobs. 'Clean thoughts, Finn, clean thoughts,' I mentally scolded myself. She was wearing miniskirt jeans that didn't even go halfway down her legs, but nicely reached around her wide hips. She wasn't fat, per se, but nicely shaped. She wore white knee socks and climbing shoes like me, and had a small green backpack. She had some golden blonde hair falling out of her...hood? Yeah, she had a hood like mine, but it had bunny ears instead of bear cub ears. She had light blue eyes and an innocent look in her eyes as she gazed around the classroom. "My name is Fiona Morrir! Nice to meet you!" the newly-named-student, Fiona, greeted with a bow.

At this point half of each class was still looking at the new girl. The other half of the class, including Mr. Petrikov, was comparing Fiona and I, seeing how similar they were. Actually, it was more like trying to find differences. Fiona was...well a girl, for one. She was wearing a bunny hood, unlike my bear hood. Her backpack was smaller? Other than that...yeah.

Mr. P was shaking his head, muttering things under his breath, one that I thought sounded like "great, another one". Mr. P looked around the room and zoned in on the desk to my right, and then at me. I tried to shake my head as discreetly as possible. 'I am never going to focus with this girl next me,' I thought, Mr. P growing an evil grin. 'Mr. P, you don't want me to repeat this class, right? Come on, man, please don't–'

"You can take a seat next to Finn, Fiona," Mr. Petrikov said pleasantly, pointing at the desk next to mine. I kept a straight face as she skipped happily to the desk next to mine and set her stuff down. Marcy, who was looking back at me, let out a giggle and my face. I mouthed out 'Help me', but she just shook her head and turned to Mr. P's lesson. I managed to keep my head straight and my face emotionless until Fiona started poking my shoulder.

"Hi," she whispered. "Are you Finn?"

Realizing I had to face the music, I faced her with a friendly smile and tried to keep and red off of my face. "Yeah," I whispered back. "You know, you look a lot like me," I said.

She giggled. "No, you look like me," Fiona quietly countered. Her head perked up as she remembered something. She reached into her pocket—'How much room could possibly be in those pockets?' I wondered as Fiona struggled to reach her hand into her skin-tight miniskirt—and pulled out a schedule.

She unfolded the crinkly paper and showed it to me. "Do you know where these classes are?" she asked, showing them to me. I plucked it out of her hand and read them, Fiona protesting silently. I felt a bit of dread rise in my throat.

"Yeah," I croaked, "these are all my classes, too."

Fiona smiled. "Then you'll show me around?" she asked. I nodded. "Yay! Let's be friends!"

I shushed her as Mr. P turned around. I was sitting straight ahead and prayed Fiona was too. Finding nothing worthy of attention, he turned around and continued writing on the chalkboard.

"Keep your voice down," I whispered. She nodded, but was still looking at me expectantly. I sighed at the fact that there was no way around this. "Alright," I said, and she smiled at me. I turned away, blushing profoundly.

All I knew now was that this was going to be a very awkward rest of the year for me.

(A/N): One of two stories with plot I'd like to try out.