It's only been four days since he started going to school, but Josh is already dreading the rest of the year. Math here is a joke. He learned all the stuff Mr. Trevor's been teaching since middle school. Having to sit through this for nine months is going to be torture.

"Mr. Trevor," the school's principal, Mr. Quincy, poked his head into the class. "How is Josh handling the trigonometry?"

The class shifted their attention to his seat, right in the center of the room. "Oh he's excellent." His teacher said, flipping through the binder where he keeps track of his students' behavior. "Turned in every homework assignment and got a full mark on the last test. AP material for next year."

"Good, good." Mr. Quincy gave him a friendly smile. "I hope you'll like our school, Josh. We take pride in it."

Josh groaned inwardly. Everyone in the school knows him, even the janitors and the lunch ladies. So much for his plans on having a quiet school life.

When the forty-five minute period was over, Josh, after escaping the swarm of underclassmen asking him questions, walked out of the class and used the clogged hallway to his advantage, hiding his face behind ever shuffling people in front of him. Over a thousand students attend Edison High, and while he is still irritated at the traffic's slow-as-snail pace, it has been proving to be useful on evading unwanted attention.

A group of kids in pristine black uniform marched past him as he stood by his locker. Baggy blue pants and decorated with medals and ribbons. JRTOC, or Junior Reserve Training Officer Corps. The sponsored federal program by the state, its general goal is to instill a sense of discipline, responsibility, and accomplishment to students. So far, they were the only ones who gave him the impression that not all American kids are class skippers with piercings and punk styled haircuts.

Josh watched them disappear into the sea of students, admiring their uniforms. He wondered what were the requirements to join as he dug around his locker, which was placed in a section not many passes by.

Footsteps. Light but discernable.

"You again?"

"Excuse me for checking on your well-being then." He heard Alicia retort.

"Don't worry, I didn't get attacked by them."

"Yet. Well, I have physics next, so try to survive until the end of the day." She walked away with several of her friends, chatting on what he thinks to be plans for college.

Trust me, he thought, taking a sip from a water bottle. I don't even need to try. So far there were no signs of this zodiac club being active, let alone even exist. Alicia's "detective intuitions" may very well just her being way too overcautious. It might be just a rumor, a hoax. Why would anyone in America start a club like this?

He took a look at his schedule taped on the inside of his locker. Next period for him is chemistry, in room 202. There is only a five-minute break between each period, so it would be a good idea to start going now. Perfect attendance is something he plans to achieve by the end of this year, as sort of a consolation price for the horrible airplane trip he had.

When the day was over, Josh considered the option of joining the JROTC. He found a lot of free time lately, and he's not particularly proud of the way he spends it, napping away like crazy to catch up on the time lag. The pseudo-military program could help him to discipline himself, and his mother would appreciate the benefits it could bring for college applications.

Since most of the kids left like a rhinoceros stampede from the dismissal, the hallways are pleasantly empty, which is all the more easier for him to find their main office. The problem is that he doesn't know where. Edison is by far the largest school he's ever attended.

"Hey, you."

A voice called behind him, and surprisingly it's not Alicia. Josh turned around, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Must be one of his so called "fans" again. Would an autograph and a "selfie" with him do for this one?

"May I help you?" He said, looking at the white...currently unidentified student, whose unkempt brown hair that did not complement the JROTC uniform he wore. But to Josh, he's perfect. He'll ask him for directions.

"You are not from Tesla Tech, are you?" The kid said before he could speak.

Josh raised an eyebrow. That's a new one. "What? Why would I be?"

"Liar." He approached him with a readable aggression. "I'm gonna teach you a lesson for spying on our school."

If it was possible to raise his eyebrows any higher, Josh would have pulled a muscle or two. What did he do to tick this kid off? And more importantly, what is kid going to do? He recalled on seeing two black students surrounded by a crowd a few days ago, chanting something to the extent of "Warstar". They circled around each other for five solid minutes before engaging into a ridiculous slap match. That was considered a fight here.

The JROTC kid indeed wants to start a fight, as he leaned forward and swung a laughable fist at him. Josh, unsure on what to do, caught him by the hand, who in response appeared to be shocked.

"What? How?" He struggled in his hold. "Let go of me, damn you!"

"Uh..." He let go. The kid backed away a few steps.

"Fuck, he's good." He heard him mutter. "Some kind of secret Chinese kung fu?"

"Hey pal," Josh said, dropping his bag by a locker. "I don't know what you want, but don't ever call me that again."

"What, Chinese?"

"I'd watch it if I were you. Go on, state your business or scram."

"My business is to punch you in the face!" He swung again. Josh casually dodged it by leaning his face away. "Damn it, stop moving!"

"You one of those 'bullies' the teachers tried to warn me?"

"Hell no! I'm gonna do more than just bully you!" The kid stopped and stepped back again, realizing the denotation in his words. "Fuck, that came out more wrong than I thought. No homo."

"Tell me where the JROTC office is and I'll forget this ever happened."

To his surprise the kid actually looked like he was considering the idea. Then he blinked. "Wait, why should I listen to you? Stand your ground and fight me like a man!"

Josh sighed. "Look kid, I'm mentally exhausted from having to sit through ten boring periods. Here, how about this," he took out a five dollar bill from his pocket. "Just show me where the office is."

The JROTC cadet made a huge show contemplating his bribe, or at least Josh hoped he did. The kid actually looked tempted. "Fine," he snatched it from his hands, "go down the hall and turn right. You can't miss Sergeant Wexford in his unwashed uniform." He stuffed the money into his uniform pocket and bolted. Josh watched him cover a good amount of distance before a grave realization struck him.

"Joshua," his mother said, vacuuming the living room floor for the second time today, "there is five dollars on the table. Go get me some tofu after school today."

Tofu. He needed the money to buy tofu.

Joshua Jiu fears no man. From the obstinate police of Hong Kong to ruthless Triad gangsters, there is nothing him and his knowledge of the merciless streets couldn't handle. But women, they are something different. He nearly got a thirty-minute scolding after almost being late to dinner the other day. Failing to bring back the tofu his mother needs for a dish is simply an automatic death sentence.

Fueled by the motivation from the fear of certain death, his willingness to live gave him the adrenaline he needed to catch up to the kid, who was surprisingly athletic enough to give him trouble on fully closing their distance. The two, like cat and mouse, pursued and evaded one another throughout the relatively deserted school. Only the lingering clubs managed to catch a glimpse of one of the most intense chases in their school history.

After what seemed to be like two full trips around the school, the JROTC kid found himself on the first floor and the first thing he went for was the main entrance. Josh darted past the security guard before he could yell at them for running in the hallways. As soon as he steps out, his foot was caught by what felt like a steel cable.

If he wasn't able to put on his Stand, Cydonia, as a suit of armor in time, the kid would have paid so much insurance that his mother could afford to go back to Hong Kong, buy her way out of the Triad's grudge, and straight up become a Red Pole.

Fully clad in his armor, Josh got back up, grunting. The kid stared at him by the school's willow tree, and for the second time in the day, he sighed to himself, heavily. A lean figure stood behind the kid, fully covered in vines. Its head was shaped like a canine's. With the sole exception of its left eye, a yellow sphere that glowed faintly with animal intensity, the entirety of its body was shrouded in leaves.

"So you really are a Stand user," the JROTC cadet said, shaking a little. "I knew it, you are from Telsa Tech..."

Josh rubbed the plated bridge of his nose. School. Is it going to drag on like this every day until he graduates?

The Chinese Zodiac Club

My first entry since attending here, starting at the beginning of my sophomore year. It's for this club that I had to transfer. Based on what I already know, the Chinese Zodiac Club is not an official club in the school. Its name is not on the papers, and no one knows what they do. But despite that, almost every student in the school is aware of this oddity, something akin to an authentic urban legend. From what I've gathered since September, the Club's most recent activity was last year when a kid named John Johnson supposedly died in a car accident. Some students claim he was part of the Club, while others say that they were the ones behind his death.

There is one thing I know that others don't: the Chinese Zodiac Club has exactly twelve members, not counting the supposed advisor. Each one of them represents a different animal of the Chinese astrology, going from rat, ox, tiger, rabbit, dragon, snake, horse, goat, monkey, rooster, dog, and pig, in that correct order. But there is one thing about this club that I do not get. Let's take the rat, for example. The last year of the rat was 1996, and unless one of their members is a left-back student, I fail to see how they can truly represent the animal. If what I think is correct, our generation should be composed mostly of rabbits and dragons, having born between 1999 to 2000, so my theory is that the members of the club only symbolizes their assigned animals in name for the sake of theme.