He sat with his chest rising up and down rapidly as the drips of sweat on his back pooled onto his pillow, draining his struggles to sleep along with it. There was a terrible itch on his leg, and when Garfield went to scratch it, the skin was dry as paper and flaked off in slices, revealing fresh, pale skin underneath.

Thinking the white lines laced around his ankles, wrists, and fingers were just loose pieces of skin, Garfield continued to pick at them. His head ached as more pale skin appeared, growing snow white as the moonlight from the silk curtains bounced off the intricate pattern. Ignoring the strange glowing, he continued to scratch that itch, hundreds of itches, all over his body.

After the deed was done, he lied surrounded by the flakes of his skin that were gleaming bright. Confused, drained, and nauseous, he sat back up and looked through the dots of skin, checking for any blood that might have seeped out—he couldn't remember the last time he filed down his sharp claws.

To his horror, the redness hadn't been coming from any blood, but from his body. Where the white lines were before were dozens of glowing streaks, looking like rivers of blood that forked off into vessels. Garfield leapt up in shock, rushing towards the vanity mirror he didn't remember ever having. His eyes widened as he recognized the lines of glowing skin formed into an intricate pattern.

Wondering if his face has been marred, he looked up and saw a black stain that shattered into his eyes.

The boy laid against the cooling surface of whatever it was as the straining white lights flooded his vision, making his hazy. He groaned as he turned over, expecting the other side of his bed but instead rolling onto a lock. Coffee would've been—very—nice.

As he let out a yawn, Garfield noticed his acquaintance snickering to his right while snapping her lock shut against the rusty locker. "Want a sip?"

"Yeah," he moaned out, reaching for Iris's coffee, "too bitter."

"Pussy." She slurped the rest of her ice coffee down, immediately tossing the cup full of ice away by the garbage can.

"Not at all."

"You sound like a guy who asked some poor girl out," she exclaimed.

"Hold on, I didn't say anything about a date," Garfield sputtered, "I'm not blushing, am I?"

"Well, you got some macho attitude going on like someone didn't reject you. Usually, you're such a pushover."

Garfield wished his team could hear Iris now. Beast Boy was never a pushover; he was as stubborn as a toddler. Although he usually wasn't successful when trying to drag Cyborg to a newer vegetarian pizza place or Robin to the new Moped display at the mall, he made sure to at least put up a fight.

"Psh, yeah right. And yeah, you bet I got a date to the Winter Formal." He smirked, giving Iris the finger guns before knocking into an obstacle behind him.

His face heated up at the sight of a girl in black. Rachel glared back at him, bending down to reach her dropped textbooks. After a sudden realization, Garfield rushed to grab whatever he could and clumsily knocked his head into her knee. "Agh, sorry."

Rachel hastily grabbed for her phone in her jacket pocket. "Oh, I got my dress. Surprise, surprise, it's black. What's the colour of your tie?"

"Solid red. My tux is just black."

"Her?" Iris said, eyebrows furrowed under her new wispy bangs. The expression on her face morphed into something of distrust as Iris turned the other way and rushed off, letting the sole of her uggs drag along the tile floor.

"What's her problem?" Rachel said as she lifted herself. "Did you spit on her or something?"

"She must've realized I was taking you to the winter formal." His hand stroked the pretend stubble on his chin. "I wonder why."

His sort-of-friend rolled her eyes, grabbing the top of his right arm and pushing him the other way. "Probably jealous."

"No way." Beast Boy would've loved having two girls fawning over him—what an ego boost. But Garfield knew better than to assume Iris liked him and that Rachel wasn't giving him a pity date.

"Oh well, her loss," Rachel impassively said, trailing her fingers down his arm and entertaining them in between his fingers, "we're going to be late for English, Garfield." His hand flinched at the touch of hers, making her shake off the hold and instead cup the bottom of her textbooks. "I'll just wear red lipstick or something. At least you didn't choose a dinky tie colour like green."

"Hey!"

An alien zoomed back and forth from the gym and her bedroom, searching for a bottle of dry shampoo. Likewise, her date followed behind her, assuring between his somersaults that she looked great. A mechanical bee let out a rich laugh at the sight of the cyborg struggling to tie his navy blue tie. A flash of light whipped behind Garfield's face, then behind his ears, searching for his girlfriend's lost bracelet.

The smell of expensive perfume, floor polish, and smoke mixed with the squeaking of Victor's joints and the bellow of the speakers that blasted the Pussycat Doll's Wannabe formed into an intangible headache in Garfield's skull.

"I fucking hate it here." He groaned, knocking the back of his neck against the backrest of the couch. "Why do they all gotta run around like that?"

"Be thankful Más and Menos aren't here," said the fish boy beside him, "and Jo. If she found out that Wally lost her grandmother's bracelet, she'd freak."

"That's kinda funny."

"What?"

"Jinx having a lucky bracelet."

"Hardee har har," Garth sarcastically replied, loosening his bow tie, "is the AC on?"

"Want me to drop you into the toilet bowl, fish sticks?"

"Who pushes a stick up your ass?" His friend—or frenemy—jabbed Garfield in the elbow. "Only Roy calls me that. You should probably stop hanging around him. Speaking of Roy, I haven't seen him around." Garth's eyes narrowed, scanning around the common room; not an inch or crevice escaped his eyes. As he turned around, a giant green thing leapt up at him, smacking him on the nose. "Get off, you dirty cat."

The feline fell back onto the couch, merging back into a human and cackling like a hyena. "I make a fine Cheshire, don't I?"

Garth spat out a chunk of green fur like a hairball while feeling around his face for any scratches. "Why are you always a pussy?"

"You're the second person today to call me that."

"You're jumping on your classmates?"

"No!" Garfield hushed Garth's yelling, anxious if Richard was eavesdropping. "A friend called me that because I didn't drink her shitty coffee."

"A her?" He raised an eyebrow. "You like girls right? Is she your date?"

"What, no! Just some girl from homeroom."

"You probably don't have a date then!"

"No, I have a date," Garfield sputtered, "no way I'm going stag to my first dance!"

"Who is she? Which class is she in? Hold on, I can probably find her Instagram." Before Garfield could stop him, Garth had his phone out, scrolling through his following list.

"Yeah, who is your date?" Richard raised an eyebrow, hair matted from running after Kori. "I forgot to ask."

Luckily, before he could interrogate the shapeshifter any longer, the intercom buzzed. Roy's voice yelled for Dick to open the door while Jade snickered in the background.

Garfield let out a giant sigh in relief, happy that the weight was off his shoulders. The sweat dripping down the collar of his dress shirt cooled down, letting his tense muscles relax back into the sofa.

"He must hate her or something, huh?"

"They all do."

"All of them? Even Kori?"

"She probably hates her the most."

I stopped writing for a few months to enjoy my summer break and now I have some nice inspiration. This chapter was purposely made shorter because the next few chapters might get really long.

-Catisa~Orsilla