XXVII. Mowgli, October 18

Mowgli stood at the bus stop with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets. It was starting to get chilly out—okay, perhaps a bit more than chilly. But it was only mid-October, and warm days were still a relatively common occurrence. Today was not one of those days. Mowgli had left his jacket in the house, not having checked the weather forecast and still stubbornly holding out for a few more days of summer. Goosebumps were prickling up on his dark, exposed arms, and he hunched his shoulders in a futile attempt to keep his neck warm. It was too late to run back into the house to grab a jacket—the bus could arrive at any moment, and if he ran to the house he might miss it. At the same time, the bus might be late, as it often was, and that would mean more time spent standing out here shivering.

Just as Mowgli was glancing back at the house and down the road, weighing his chances, a familiar car pulled up in front of him. He peered in the passenger side window as it rolled down, and saw his neighbor Eric sitting behind the wheel.

"Hey Mowgli," Eric grinned. "Want a ride to school?"

He didn't have to ask twice. Mowgli clambered into the car, placing his backpack at his feet. Eric was one of the lucky juniors who had a parking pass, and Mowgli was grateful for that right now. Eric's car was already comfortably warm and he had the radio on—definitely a more pleasant sound than the unpleasant din of screeching underclassmen on the bus.

"Thanks," Mowgli said.

"No problem," Eric said warmly. "You just have to tell me… Who's the girl?"

"G-girl?" Mowgli stammered, not expecting that question. "What girl?"

"Come on," Eric teased. "Yesterday when I asked if you had a lady friend, you got all embarrassed."

"Because I don't," Mowgli said. "Not yet, anyway."

"But you've got your eye on someone," Eric said.

"Maybe."

"Tell me about her, then," Eric said.

"I—I don't know," Mowgli blushed.

"You don't have to say who it is," Eric said. "Just tell me a little about her."

"Well," Mowgli twisted his fingers together. "She's really pretty and she seems really smart an-and… she's a freshman, too, and…"

"Do you have any classes together?" Eric asked.

"No," Mowgli said glumly. "That's the worst part. I never see her. Except in the hallways, sometimes."

"Well, you should hang out with her sometime!" Eric said. "Ask her to hang out on a weekend or something. You have her number, right?"

"No."

"Well, why not?"

"I've only talked to her once," Mowgli admitted sheepishly.

"Oh," Eric said. "Well. Try talking to her the next time you see her."

"I want to, but… I wouldn't even know what to talk about," Mowgli said, frustrated.

"There's plenty to talk about," Eric said. "You just have to overcome your shyness. Talk to her about… how about Halloween? That's something that's affecting everyone. Just ask her what her plans are, or something."

"Hm. Maybe," Mowgli shrugged—he was a little bit too intimidated by her to utter a single syllable at this point, but he wasn't going to admit that to the older and infinitely more cool Eric.

Eric pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. The two walked into the lobby and then parted ways, with Eric wishing the younger boy luck with his girl problems. Mowgli sensed that Eric's girl problems were a lot more serious than his own, but he knew better than to ask.

Third block was Mowgli's least favorite of the day. Ms. Drachen—well, Señorita Drachen was what they called her in class—was a horror. There were a lot of unreasonably callous teachers at this school, but she was among the undisputed worst. Ms. Maleficent Drachen was a tall woman with a pale face, wiry black hair, and a long, angular face. With her pointed chin and her high cheekbones, she might have even been considered pretty if the students could look past her unspeakable coldness. She consistently wore a dark pink lipstick and a light purple eye shadow that didn't exactly go together but of course, no one dared say anything about it in her presence. Her fingers were long and thin, her bones seeming to protrude at the knuckles, and her nails were always perfectly manicured to match her lipstick. She tapped the fake, pointed nails on her desk now, looking out at the students of her Spanish 1 class as they scribbled desperately onto the pop quiz sheets she had handed out. Mowgli was watching her because he had nothing better to be doing. He hadn't done the previous night's reading, so he was basically screwed. He thought maybe if he looked at Srta. Drachen for long enough, he might absorb some of the answers through osmosis. It was a silly notion, but it was more likely than him coming up with the answers by staring at the quiz.

Srta. Drachen suddenly turned and caught Mowgli's eye. He felt his stomach drop, but he held her gaze anyway. He wasn't even sure why he was doing it, but he felt as though he couldn't be the first to look away. That would be a sign of weakness. One side of Srta. Drachen's lip curled upwards into a twisted sort of smile, and Mowgli shuddered. Something about Srta. Drachen's smile always made him uncomfortable. Perhaps because he imagined the things that made her smile the most were probably things like dying puppies and kidnapped children.

"Time," Srta. Drachen said, not looking away from Mowgli. "Hand your quizzes forward immediately. Any quizzes not handed forward immediately will have ten points deducted, no exceptions."

Mowgli finally looked away in order to take the quizzes being handed forward from behind him and to strategically add his own blank page to the bottom of the stack. Whatever. Spanish wasn't even that useful anyway.

I should have taken French, he thought.

The French teacher was supposed to be pretty cool—though truthfully, anything would be better than Srta. Drachen. And his crush was taking French, so with a little luck he might've had it with her. Oh well. Hindsight is 20/20. He flipped through the Spanish book, yawning as he looked at the colorful pictures. He was aware that Srta. Drachen was speaking, but he couldn't be bothered at this point. This class was a massive drag. Suddenly he was aware of the sound of Srta. Drachen clearing her throat and the class falling to silence. He looked up, curious, and found everyone was turned to look at him, and Srta. Drachen was staring a hundred tiny daggers into his heart. He gulped.

"Wh-what?" was all he could muster.

"I asked you if you could please enlighten us by revealing the answer to the first question on today's pop quiz?" Srta. Drachen said.

That pissed Mowgli off. He knew that she knew that he hadn't done well on the quiz. She had to know from their little stare-down that his quiz was completely left blank. And yet here she was, tormenting him even further. He gritted his teeth.

"Could you repeat the question please?" Mowgli said.

Srta. Drachen made a little noise of disgust and looked around the classroom.

"Can someone please tell this poor child what the first quiz question was?" she asked the room.

A hand shot up, and Srta. Drachen called on the girl.

"Conjugate the verb 'ser' in the present tense," the girl recited.

"As simple as that," Srta. Drachen nodded, looking pointedly at Mowgli. "Think you can handle that?"

"I—I…" Mowgli felt his face burning red.

"Just conjugate the verb 'ser'—it couldn't be simpler," Srta. Drachen said. "We learned this in the first week, Mowgli."

"S-soy," Mowgli said—he knew that much, at least. "Um, er… eres?"

"Well, are you asking us, or are you telling us?" Srta. Drachen said, with her hands on her hips and her lips twisted as though she'd tasted something extremely bitter—Mowgli assumed that was a sign that he was answering correctly, but the way she was treating him was so unprofessional.

"This is bullshit!" he blurted before he could stop himself, then slapped a hand quickly over his mouth.

"What… did you… just… say?" Srta. Drachen seethed, leaning forward over her desk with her hands gripping the desk's edge tightly.

"I—I said, 'this is…' um, 'ridiculous'?" Mowgli stammered. "I mean, uh, r… really…"

"I heard what you said," Srta. Drachen hissed, and Mowgli imagined a forked tongue flicking out from between her teeth. "Now come up here and get your detention slip for this afternoon."

Defeated, Mowgli trudged to the front of the room and took the hastily scribbled note. He slunk back to his desk and slumped down in his chair, wanting nothing more than to disappear.

He felt a bit better about his fate by lunchtime—or rather, he had taken his mind off of it, for the most part. Lunch was definitely his favorite part of the day. He felt like he was starting to find his place in high school, and that was a refreshing feeling. He liked the group that he sat with, and he especially admired Peter. The boy was only a year older than Mowgli, yet he somehow seemed so much more worldly and knowing. Maybe it was the girlfriend factor, though Mowgli suspected that Peter had been cool even before Tiger had come along.

"So, I heard you caused a ruckus in Spanish today," Peter said as he took the seat next to Mowgli.

"You heard about that?" Mowgli laughed nervously.

"Only bits and pieces, but I want to hear it from you," Peter said.

"Oh, it was… not really a big deal," Mowgli said, embarrassed.

"That's not what I heard," Mulan said as she sat down across the table. "It sounded like you were finally the one to call Srta. Drachen out on her bullshit."

"Yeah, it sounded like a valiant act," Rapunzel, who was sitting next to Mulan, said. "About time someone did it—bravo."

"Mulan, Rapunzel, Wendy, and I all have Spanish together with the dragon lady so we're dying to hear it," Peter said.

"Well, okay," Mowgli said. "Basically she gave us this bogus pop quiz and then she asked me to answer one of the questions and… while I was answering it, she was sort of pestering me about it so I just said 'this is bullshit'—I… I didn't mean to say it, it just sort of came out. And then she gave me a detention."

"You are a legend," Peter said, patting Mowgli on the shoulder with a smile. "You remind me of a young Peter Pan."

"He's only a year younger than you," Mulan said, throwing a fry at Peter, who stuck his tongue out at her.

Everyone was stoked about the Spanish class incident, and everyone seemed to think a couple hours of detention was worth it to tell off the much-hated teacher. Even Wendy, who was usually so straight-laced, let out a few giggles as Peter quickly recounted the story to her. Mowgli suddenly felt glad that the incident had happened—proud, even. Here was Peter—basically his idol—thinking his story was worthy enough to be repeated. Mowgli never would have imagined when he first heard about Peter and his various pranks that he would someday be friends with him. Well—friends was perhaps not the right word, not yet anyway. Mowgli looked at Peter and wondered if Peter considered him a friend. He hoped so.

Mowgli walked into an empty classroom after school. He took out the detention slip and double-checked to make sure it was the correct room. He stood dumbly at the front of the room for a moment before a tall, lanky man with skin just a shade darker than his own strode in, muttering to himself. Mowgli heard him say something along the lines of "fuckin' hate Mondays" before stopping short, noticing the small boy.

"H-hello," Mowgli said.

"You here for detention?" Mowgli nodded, and the man set his things down by the desk and took out a sheet of paper. "Last name?"

"Bachchan," Mowgli said, and the man gave him an odd look, then wrote a check on the paper.

"Sit wherever," the man said, sitting down and putting his feet up on the desk. "And try not to make any… noise."

Mowgli sat near the back right of the room. Other students quickly began filling in, all of them checking in with the grumpy-yet-apathetic teacher—who Mowgli learned was named Mr. Facilier—and spacing themselves out in the seats throughout the classroom. Some of the students were average looking, completely forgettable. There were students who even veered on the dorky-looking side, all round glasses and pocket protectors. There was one kid from the football team—he was wearing his jersey—who had long, dark dreadlocks. And then Mowgli saw a familiar face. That girl. He saw her look around nervously, twirling a finger through her blonde hair, and then take a seat on the left side of the room. Mowgli quickly and quietly gathered his things together and moved over to take the seat in front of her, motivated by Eric's encouragement and the ego boost of his small bit of celebrity from telling off Srta. Drachen.

"Hi Alice," he said, and she looked up slowly from the paper she was doodling on.

"Oh, hi!" she said, smiling one of her adorable little smiles. "Wait—don't tell me. Mowgli, right?"

"Yes," he said, embarrassed that he hadn't been as memorable to her as she had been to him, but glad nonetheless that she had remembered his name. "How are you doing?"

"Okay, I guess," she said. "It's my first detention."

"Mine too," Mowgli said.

"Really?" she asked, then quickly backtracked. "Not that—I don't mean to say you seem like… never mind. What did you do?"

"I sort of told off my Spanish teacher," he said, not wanting to put any kind of swing on it, not sure if she would be impressed or appalled by the story.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that!" Alice said, her face lighting up. "Way to go. I wish I could do that with Mrs. Tremaine."

"Is she the one who sent you here?" Mowgli asked.

"I fell asleep in her class," Alice admitted. "She sent me to the principal again, this time I came out with a detention."

"Too bad," Mowgli said. "Although it doesn't seem so bad here… Pretty laid back. And… the company's not bad."

Alice blushed, and didn't say anything. There was a moment's awkward silence before Mowgli felt the need to forcibly break it.

"So…" he said, then remembered Eric's words of wisdom. "Halloween! Got any plans for Halloween? 'Cause if not, you know, we could…"

He trailed off, suddenly embarrassed at how forward he was being.

"Actually, I told my friend Aladdin I would hang out with him—do you know Aladdin?" Alice asked.

"We've never met, but… I know who he is," Mowgli said.

He had seen the two of them together around school, and had honestly been pretty jealous. He couldn't compete with Aladdin. Aladdin was a senior and all around considered a really cool guy. Mowgli was no one in comparison. Suddenly he felt like this whole thing had been a pretty stupid idea. He was starting to regret it.

"Well, I'm not sure what we're doing yet," Alice said. "But you should come along—I'm sure Aladdin wouldn't mind."

"Oh, I don't know, I wouldn't want to crash your… date," Mowgli said.

"Oh please," Alice guffawed. "It wouldn't be a date—it's not like that with me and Aladdin. Anyway, the more the merrier. Do you have a ride home?"

"No, but—"

"Aladdin's giving me one, I'm sure he wouldn't mind dropping you off, too," Alice said.

"I wouldn't want to impose…" Mowgli said hesitantly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alice said. "Aladdin won't mind."

There was a loud throat-clearing noise from the front of the room. Mowgli turned to see Mr. Facilier staring at the two of them, squinting angrily. He didn't say anything. Mowgli sheepishly sunk into his chair and Mr. Facilier leaned back and closed his eyes again. Funny that Alice could get sent to detention for falling asleep in class, and then the teacher would sleep all through detention. Mowgli took out a textbook to flip through to pass the time in silence.

When time was up, Alice insisted again that Mowgli get a ride with Aladdin, and the two walked out together. Aladdin was waiting, standing by his car, which was already running. Alice ran to him and he picked her up in a hug, swinging her around then setting her back down on the ground.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded, "Aladdin, I'd like you to meet my friend Mowgli."

Aladdin looked Mowgli up and down, then shook his hand, giving him a stern, serious look in the eye. It was like meeting a date's protective older brother—or at least, how Mowgli would imagine such an incident would go down from what he had seen in movies and TV. He had never actually had a real date, never mind one with a protective older brother.

"Nice to meet you," Mowgli squeaked.

"You too," Aladdin said. "You need a ride?"

"If—if it's not too much trouble," Mowgli said nervously.

"No problem," he said. "Hop in."

Mowgli got in the back seat and Alice took shotgun. Mowgli told Aladdin where he lived and Aladdin nodded to him through the rearview mirror. As they drove, Aladdin and Alice chatted about their days. Mowgli felt largely forgotten for the majority of the trip, until Alice turned to him, about five minutes from his house.

"Mowgli was the one who told off Srta. Drachen today," she told Aladdin, looking at the younger boy with interest.

"Oh?" Aladdin said, looking at Mowgli in the rearview. "Good job, kid."

"Thanks," Mowgli muttered, still feeling slightly uncomfortable.

"I thought that was pretty cool," Alice said. "I was thinking Mowgli should hang out with us on Halloween."

"Sure, sounds good," Aladdin said, although Mowgli suspected that Aladdin was only saying that to be polite.

"Here," Alice said, handing Mowgli back a slip of paper as they pulled into his driveway.

"What's this?" Mowgli asked, unfolding the slip.

"My number, silly," Alice said. "How else would we set up plans for Halloween?"

"Oh!" Mowgli said, feeling stupid. He gathered his things and clambered out of the car. "Yeah. Of course. Cool. I'll see you then, then?"

"Yup," Alice said. "Later!"

Mowgli closed the door and stepped away from the car. Aladdin quickly pulled out of the driveway and sped off down the street. He looked at the number in his hands, then crumpled his fist around it tightly. Yes, things were looking up.