Edit: I fleshed this out and added the details that should've been here in the first place (most of it involving the setting and their outfits in such).

Along with that, I've tweaked with the character dialogue to make it feel more true to the show.

Enjoy.

Jack of all Trades, Master of all. That's what she was.

Dad could try all he wanted, but cracking jokes is like breathing to her. Lynn and athleticism are words that were made for each other, but could she ride the unicycle with as much finesse as she could? Every magician in the world could brag about knowing how to blow you away, but to blindfold yourself and juggle five assorted things? Lincoln, are you even trying?

She wasn't just a comedian. But a ventriloquist, a theater kid, and a part-time academic achiever too. Luan wanted it all, and she worked for it. In her mind, moving mountains and splitting waters like Moses to the Red Sea isn't impossible at all, as long as you have the mindset to make it possible.

But of course, that's only a mindset. You can't win the race without jumping through the hurdles first.

The dining room table rocked as Luan pushed up against it, resting her elbows on the hard surface. The blue light radiated from her laptop, bathing her pale complexion. She rubbed her eyes and let out a yawn. The solidarity of a quiet Loud house would last until seven in the morning, leaving only four more hours she could ever have a date with herself; if only, that's what her projects wanted her to do.

Three nights in a row, snatched away from her, yet again, to pay the price of doing an assignment. To finish this literature essay, to draw that Science poster, and finally, to swallow up another group report due tomorrow. It didn't matter if the Wednesday ahead meant counting how many times she yawned; working an hour this late in the Loud house is the only time you can ever really get things done. Lynn's not cheering a whole stadium's worth over a touchdown, Lincoln's not jumping around the tables playing Ace Savvy, and the twins aren't fighting over the carton of orange juice in the fridge. Boy, does it get hard to concentrate when it happens, get it?

She could always stay in her room, but the second floor's heater malfunctioned all the time, especially during mid-January when weather was at its coldest, so by the time seasons like this came, most of them would be huddled up down here doing homework; doing more talking than actual progress.

At least now she'd be warmer than upstairs. And she'd get the big table all to herself.

She shifted and stretched her arms and legs, snapping the kinks out her body. Luan swallowed air, cringing at the sharp tendrils running down her throat. Taking her phone and turning the flashlight on, Luan skipped to the kitchen, gliding to the fridge and grasping at the handle. She paused right before opening it, hunching closer and hovering her phone over the surface; finding hardbound papers magnetically pinned all over it.

Then there were the bold logos corresponding to their schools. Wait, hold up. It was finally here?

Character slips, that's what they called it. In recent times, Royal Woods had started a culture where, alongside the one-on-one talk with parents, teachers would leave notes along with the student's report cards, serving as handheld commentaries of the child's character at school. From the way everyone talked about it like it was the Holy Grail, she had to see hers too, asap.

Any form of work isn't complete without a reward of some sort, and only now, did Royal Woods realize that. The most relevant part about these personality slips is the inked letters imprinted in red, with the words "with honors". The two words that had not only pushed her to up her academic feat, but to turn over a new leaf too. As it turned out, schools tweaked with the system, and now they were computing the student's morals as part of the grade. Imagine, being qualified for having the highest GPA at school, yet you can't get it because you're a two- faced, backstabbing hypocrite.

Luan snickered, scanning the cards. Not gonna be me.

She took her life as more like a joke up until this point. Middle school kept telling her, and they were right. Her peers didn't lie: she needed to stop treating everything like a whole big punchline that was up to her to piece together. Even Principal Rivers gave a warm welcome by politely telling her to consider seeking Cognitive Behavioral Therapy after she bombed the inside of her car with blue paint, the second time.

Everyone was that crazy to think that she needed a shrink, and the first semester of sophomore year proved it.

And by the looks of it, it laid itself before her, under the glow of her phone's flashlight.

The moment of truth.

She silently giggled, trying to contain herself. With a growing grin, she set her eyes on one of them. This year, "a little less on the pranking; extremely extra on the studying" became her motto. She took on every club performance, making sure the projects she submitted were scored over the top, and upping her game by a hundred-ten percent by studying every night- even on weekends. It's a sin against humanity to not receive credit at this point.

Royal Woods High School

Luna Loud Junior High; Class A

Your daughter is the embodiment of balance. Luna may be the life of every party, but when time calls for it, she proves to be a spectacular listener. She is down-to-earth and ironically, the most collected of all the older Loud girls we as faculty have come across…"

Luan smiled proudly. That's my roommate.

Moving aside her paper, her eyes skimmed over the rest of their cards and the commentaries written on them. She scanned through her siblings' school grades and milestones; below Luna's were the twins' cards, talking about how they got a badge for their heroic streak of protecting the other students from getting bullied, then one had Lincoln (miraculously), and his expedition on becoming the school's most renowned campus journalist; not to mention the red words in bold that said he reached the honor roll…

Yeah, no. Luan didn't have the whole night to read these. It's time to find hers.

She pointed a finger at each one. One, two, three… Luan counted.

Eight. Lily was just a baby; the preschool doesn't give commentaries like that yet. Lori didn't count either; she's way out of coverage for mom and dad to pick her card up.

With them being miles away from Royal Woods, it's not like Fairway followed their new trend of adding starry compliments under their student's grades- that's college we're talking about, not primary and secondary school.

So, there could only be one Loud off the roster.

Impossible. Luan hummed, mentally crossing off each name, starting off with the cards that had red stamps imprinted. Who could it be… Lucy? Nah, how could she even think of her mentee like that? The teachers probably took a day trying to list out the amazing poems she wrote. Lisa…? 1st grade doesn't make room for any innovative inventions, and finding cures for cancer, right?

No wait, never mind. Lisa's card looked just like Linc's. Stamped on it were the words, " With High Honors", in big bold letters, flaunting itself in all its glory- like that'd make her jealous.

Her chest grew tight. Where's mine?

With unstable breaths out of her gaped mouth, Luan mumbled the numbers out in chronological order before coming to one conclusion Her grin faltered. A familiar tug dumped over her, like cold water heavy on soaked clothes.

Her chest sank. If this is a prank, it's far from funny. Luan let go of the fridge door's handle, turning around to her seat instead. She didn't need to drink water anymore. Sucking her lips in, she slipped into the chair. Trying to ignore the rising flame in her belly.

So much for expecting.

Maybe her bad reputation from freshman year went a little above the school's standards. And yeah, maybe she flaunted a little too much by debating against the teacher when they mispronounced a word, or said the wrong information…

Luan leaned on the backrest, clenching her teeth. Calm down. Take a deep breath in, and one out. Maybe mom and dad forgot to put hers in- maybe they didn't get hers yet with all the buzz and commotion going on in the restaurant. She could ask them tomorrow.

Her neck craned as her gaze set to the dim ceiling. That's dumb- to forget about her when they didn't even leave out Lucy- and dad may have been forgetful, but mom wasn't that shallow.

Yeah, okay, sure- the teachers at school disliked her. What school faculty would be in the right mind to think of her in an appreciative way? She snorted, pulling a hand up to rub her eyes. After all, who is she?

With the crack of her knuckles snapping in her ears, she began typing at a furious pace. Last semester, the guidance counselor evaluated her with the conclusion that she was just a resilient sophomore with a zany sense of humor for a personality. She ferociously typed down the document with an endless stream of words. As they said before, she's just a theater kid who played one of the biggest roles in school musicals; a triple-threat to the theater world, being an actress, scriptwriter, and director all at once. Nothing more than a prankster with an edge for all academic subjects at school- who aced every single test, passed homework almost way too early- and so on, so forth.

She's given them the same things, the same achievements last year, on a higher scale. But that's not enough for them, huh? They wanted to see her break a sweat for it, didn't they? To see her work her way through a repentance for all the dumb pranks she did last year?

The past will not define her present. The first semester offered her second chance at making things right—but this, this one would be her last shot. She couldn't just let it slip until the next year rolls around.

Luan chewed on her lower lip, tapping letters and forming words on the screen. Once these projects are done—no, once this semester is done, she will have the last laugh.

And today would mark the beginning of her expedition to perfection.

Did it come as a shocker when high school proved to be ruthless, as everyone told her it'd be? Luan drummed a rhythmic strum on her desk. Actually, no; Lori, Leni and Luna were being nice; high school is downright insufferable, especially when your peers crown you as their redeeming savior.

Predictable as school is, with all the essays, and the homework and everything— the first semester looked vanilla compared to the present, unless you were babied enough to cry over five pieces of bring- home tests every night. The teachers must've decided on a new year's resolution, because this time, the projects escalated, with the catch being every project in itself was done with an assigned group.

Yesterday night, there was barely a chance to breathe from the three consecutive reports they had to do. Then there was this, the fourth oral report this week; what's better? It was announced yesterday. Luan sucked in breath. What sort of performance would Miss Dublin expect?

On her other hand, was Mr. Coconuts, staring straight at the board. "An entire discussion, that's what- especially when you're taking the stage"

Luan faced her puppet. "Oh please, you're being too kind."

Public speaking never comes with a drawback when you've been doing stand-up comedy from as young as four- years-old. After getting booked at birthday parties to gigs at Sunset Canyon, to theatre performances at school back and forth, oral reports didn't make her wince once.

"Oh, did I say you were taking the stage? I meant me." He snorted sardonically.

Their room's natural light diminished as the 3rd group's reporter wrapped up her speech. Excelling academically and wanting to strive for more meant she was forced to take on more roles in the group over everybody else. When it came to hogging the spotlight, she was all in. Being entitled for being the mastermind behind their research, for being the creator of their visual aid, and for reporting in front was prestige— who could let it pass, let alone by someone as competitive and attention-craving as she is?

And you know, it could keep going; the thrill of doing it all, and knowing it all as a result was doing wonders to her.

If only Lisa could magically transform her into a superhuman or something along that trail. Only three weeks of persistent group reports, and like that, the adrenaline of being the jack of all trades started to fade out. The thought of putting in all the work into it alone again was getting underneath her skin. So, last night, Luan called for a tough resolution: to split the labor.

Over the course of one evening, she had two of her group mates split certain parts to the topic they were given- the same two did the research, created the chart, and wrote the questions- while she, along with two other girls as backup- will go up the stage and share it to the class.

That's how it went in her head, at least.

In reality, what happened the night before reminded her why hogging the task should've been her first choice. If doing it all alone burned her out, working with the group disintegrated her into ashes. Call it a coincidence that she got grouped with people like them, but their exposure, brains, and not to mention, tastes, were just mountains apart from hers. Give them a task; you receive only half the effort, and like that one gangster they kicked out of their group, no work at all.

And when all her siblings, along with mom and dad fell asleep, she snuck downstairs and spent the evening on hair-pulling, head-banging errors throughout revising the work. Through it all, the luggage of her other assignments haunted her, until around midnight, when she actually got to doing them. Nonetheless, it was over with; she caught up with it before mom and dad came out of their rooms to find her asleep on the table. Barely.

But that was the night before, and today would be when they could flex how worth it their (technically her) effort is.

"Okay… Loud's group. You're up next." Their teacher said.

The whole room had their eyes on her, and her two back up peeps, a brunette–Bella, and a girl of Asian descent, Grace. Luan sat Mr. Coconuts on her chair as she stood up with her chin up, contrasting them both, who had reluctance written over their faces as they walked over to the front of the class.

"Ready?", Luan motioned as they nodded, handing out a USB. A moment later, Bella connected it to the teacher's laptop. She glanced at them— just as bowed their heads awkwardly. Luan looked to the class, her classmates' anticipating smiles urging her on, and she shot back. Let's get this show on the road.

Luan cleared her throat. Remember, this is a formal occasion. "Good afternoon, everyone. So today…"

The report was about an example of a Community Based Disaster Risk Management plan, otherwise known as a CBDRM plan for short. With a motion, she motioned both girls to read the content for her. Bella and Grace set their eyes on the laptop screen. Bella's voice quivered, and goodness sake, she couldn't stop twirling her hair. Grace simply followed along, a little calmer than the other. With each swipe through the PowerPoint, the structure in their report remained consistent: Both of them read the content, Luan discussed it further.

The world before her stopped moving, only the buzzing of the classroom heater echoed. Luan smiled at their eagerness, pacing back and forth as she thoroughly broke apart every piece of their answer. Showing off that her powerful stage presence wasn't just limited to all thing's comedy. Explaining in detail why a community should focus on prevention over cure; tearing the seams as to why a plan should be structured and logical, making sure they didn't just know, but fully understood the essence of a CBDRM plan.

Until her eyes landed on Miss Dublin, sitting at the center of the aisle; she wiped a strand of her ginger hair up. With her head cocked, she scanned the report with narrowed eyes and a wrinkled nose. A fairly new teacher, her background life remained private, so only the school faculty knew where she came from. But the way she couldn't command respect from the crowd, it already spelled trouble.

And since last semester when she came in somewhere nearing the exams, it seems that from the moment Luan once took the spotlight to report for a project, Miss Dublin had her glare on her since. The same stink eye glare Britney and her minions shot her during lunch. Who knows why she could be feeling that way towards her for sure?

A sense of apprehension filled her when Miss Dublin finally interrupted the speech with a lift of her hand. Her guts were right. "Does this have anything to do with the reference map I gave you?"

Luan choked, her eyes darting to the reference map pasted on the board left idle. Every beat of her heart drummed in her ears. Well… yes, but technically no?

They didn't need it anymore, or anything… but rest assured, this entire report was based

on that reference. "Uh… yes, it does, Miss." Luan squeaked out.

Get a hold of yourself, Luan! She mentally facepalmed. You didn't work the whole night just to stammer in front of a crowd! What would other Joannie Sasafras think about me right now?

"Then why aren't you using it?" She shook her head in reproach. Luan inwardly cringed; wherever this woman grew up, probably wasn't a stable environment- that's for sure. "You know what… never mind. You obviously didn't go by instruction."

Surrounded by silence, the attention no longer felt welcoming. A deep plunging sensation ripped through her chest. Ow- Miss Dublin is not the type of woman you would want in an audience.

"Alright… moving on to where we last stopped," One thing you learn from the entertainment biz, is that hecklers could be anybody, so long as they don't know you well. Shrugging it off, Luan continued on with the presentation as if the words didn't pierce through her. Luan leaned against the table, tapping her fingers with the velocity of a shaking powder keg ready to burst. She shifted her gaze to her classmates, and somehow, all their faces told her to 'just wrap- it-up'.

Her neck grew warmer. Their faces, the silence, her scrutinizing glower tightened the grip on her neck. Each minute she spoke, her lungs demanded more air. A part of her said give up. Luan swallowed. Nobody even cared about this topic; they only wanted to hear her speak. She herself only wanted stage time.

Luan sped through the presentation, saying things as they were and leaving the rest to their heads. It was pointless—just call it the end and that's that.

"You have two minutes left," Miss Dublin interrupted. "Make it quick."

Time wasn't by her side. Luan nodded. Cold hands; sweaty forehead. Way was she tensing up? Bella and Grace were right there, but screw them. It took sheer willpower for her not to chuckle sheepishly; to not deliver an awful pun that could at least pull on her classmates' strings. A sheen of sweat glistened brightly on her forehead; she wiped it quickly. Two minutes… how many seconds left? "So's" and "ums" came out- a lot of it; she read through the PowerPoint, took two seconds to explain it, then moved on. Pretzels twisted in her belly. Minutes are counting down into seconds, and they're not even halfway through.

And there, her voice caught again. " Loud?"

Luan clenched her teeth, inhaling slowly. What now? "Yes, miss?"

Miss Dublin tilted her head in skepticism. Her chest hollowed. She wrung her stiff, yet sweaty hands together. "Where's your whole group?"

What did she mean? Luan gulped a thick ball of saliva. Everyone's eyes were on her. Why did everyone take this so seriously? Laugh a lil', won't you, guys? "Uh, no…? The rest of my group mates are over there.", she pointed to the right side of the room, where two guys sat. "Why, exactly, miss?"

"Two simple instructions, yet you managed to go up-and-beyond to disappoint me." Her classmates broke into murmurs; everyone watched as her smile faltered. "I told all of you specifically to have your entire group in front during the report. Everyone has to play a role in this."

Luan's eyebrows lowered. No, she couldn't just let this woman throw away her entire night's worth of effort. "For what it's worth, what do you even expect after announcing it just yesterday? Scripts aren't allowed, right? And knowing the rest of her groupmates, what could they do without that guide?"

Everyone booed the teacher, and she glanced to the side, taking note of Bella and Grace's widening eyes. Why were they shocked? Luan wondered. They were the ones who said it themselves. Scratching their necks, pleading her to make them a script because we don't know what to do, huhuhu.

And human as she is, this was her chance to show-off just how nice and intelligent she could be.

Miss Dublin sighed and stood up. The fire in her eyes only pushed Luan to keep her head

up and chest out. Looking defiantly at her, Luan leaned against the table, waiting for an answer.

Hey, nobody wants to be interrupted during their discussing twice. What a good example this teacher was setting them.

"For someone who's bad at following instructions as you are, you're pretty cocky, lady." Miss Dublin clicked her tongue, motioning for all three of them. "Girls, go back to your seats."

When they did as she asked, Miss Dublin took over the front. Luan wiped her forehead and took a deep breath, feeling her heartbeat reduce into normality. Well, that got dog-showed. "So, what did that report teach us all?"

An example of what a Community Based Disaster Risk Management Plan looks like?

Luan bit her cheek. Far from it, definitely.

She scanned the room, holding her breath in. Her classmates had their heads low—almost as if spewing a word would get them shot.

Turning back around, she met Miss Dublin's glance. "See class, this is why I set you up for group reports: to test your cooperation." she said. "Loud's group over here, is a bad example of that."

Her face scrunched up. That's it? It's all a test to see if we work it out? It wasn't the actual handiwork we're focusing on?

"I specifically told you all yesterday that everyone has to report." Miss Dublin looked at her. "Where was that in your group, Loud?"

Luan grinded her teeth together. Was this woman hearing herself? "This was given yesterday. Plus, you said it yourself, no scripts allowed. I just wanted to do save them the hassle of cramming all night." Luan retorted. "Especially because; one wrong move and we'll all get a low mark."

Hushed whispers emerged. The room gradually stirred back to life. They could hate her, get offended for the words she spoke, but their reactions didn't matter. Her work did.

Miss Dublin raised her brows at her in a cocky manner, almost as if to look down on her. "You're the leader; you're supposed to guide them out of their shell, Loud." Then she turned to the whole class. "I made sure of it. Every team has a captain. Captains you're meant to do your jobs. I refuse to believe all of you have reached freshman year without knowing what step to take. Is this all you're really good for, class?"

"I mean, speaking of ships, captains just steer the wheel. It's not like they can deal with the engines too—"

"Exactly. You're meant to drive the group to where they want to go." Her piercing scowl made Luan bow. She rested her arms on the desk and fiddled her thumbs.. A group is supposed to share the same motives. The same want, an equal desperation to be something.

Because if we just went with what the group really cared about, they wouldn't have a presentation at all.

Miss Dublin shook her head, steering back to the class. "Next group."

All five members of the next group got up. A blonde girl confidently strode to the front. Oh, the group Whitney led—the one student who could actually put up a challenge against Luan.

Too bad she was two-faced. They could'a made a good tandem.

When Whitney began speaking, she pursed her lips. And look at that, Luan exhaled; watching the way she covered her face with a sheet of paper. She's reading an outline.

She turned her head to Miss Dublin, who sat calmly on her seat. Okay, going solo for the report made her flip instantly, but not this?

Miss Dublin made it clear that scripts were out of the rules yesterday, and Whitney demonstrated why—she was giving the impression of a thespian script reading, not of a student reporting. No eye contact, no engaging with the audience—just her reading out the index card with unnecessary emotions. It felt almost robotic. Generic. Luan pressed a fist on her cheek. Yet somehow, it was justified now.

Luan rolled her eyes and leaned back on her chair, blocking out the toneless voices before her. She could do a hundred times better than this. A groan built up at the back of her throat. Whitney's co-members struggled to even stand in front, let alone speak without malfunctioning. Even Todd sounded more human.

This is why she chose to report alone.

Luan imagined the time away. Maybe later on at home, she could unwind and focus more on her stand- up. She could structure her next big prank with Lily. Or better yet, spite mom and dad by telling all her siblings that she forged those cards all along, and that those compliments from the so-called teachers were actually just her.

A smile creeped on her face. Seeing how happy they were at breakfast, it'd probably get her twisted into a pulp by Lynn, or guitar riffed to oblivion by Luna— but thrilling.

"Round of applause, please!" Huh? What?

Oh. Luan blinked. She skipped through the whole presentation. Not like she missed much–probably..

Miss Dublin took over the class, papers with their names in hand. Her hands were rigid as she pressed them together. After that break down of a report, she was sure enough that their grade is already secured in the F- tier, but oh well, let's hear it coming straight from the source.

"This group project was to test how most of you would cope with such a strain in a period of time." Miss Dublin smiled. "And suffice to say, I'm impressed with the chemistry and production I found in each group- so you all deserve a perfect mark of seventy."

The class broke into cheers, except for her. Luan averted her gaze; her eyes narrowing.

Impressed? With the production? She snorted, reclining on her chair. What're you? A clown?

"Except for Loud's group; who only get a sixty out of seventy."

Luan drew back with a frown. No. She was the whole circus.

"Hey, how come?", Luan blurted out, eyeing her. What're the bases? Where are the rubrics? If she's just gonna be throwing out perfect scores to the other groups with hardly any effort in their reports, why did their group have to go down by ten points?

Miss Dublin turned to her with a sorry look. "For one, you broke two instructions: You didn't use the reference map, and you hogged the stage and left out two- no four of your group mates behind."

"But like I said, Miss— We based the whole report off the map! And it's not like I left them behind!", Luan countered. The talking eventually drew to a cease.

"The other group read guides throughout their reports you didn't call them out."

"I at least saw them trying to get their act together." Miss Dublin shook her head.. "I opted to rate the report itself a forty if I had I not seen the effort you put into reviving the second half of the report."

She furrowed her eyebrows, unconvinced, to the chagrin of the teacher. "If you can't handle my style of scoring, then do better next time. Don't make me regret giving you a sixty. You're challenging me to go lower than that, Loud."

The class "ooh-ed" at her.

Behind Miss Dublin's back, she scoffed and rolled her eyes. A teacher, a student-teacher not to mention, just flat out roasted her, as unreasonably as that.

She could keep talking back and take a shot in the dark—aiming for a fair negotiation, but something, deep in her guts, churned. With a young student-teacher as stubborn as Miss Dublin? Even their original Social Studies teacher, Mrs. Lemmings, as cranky and uptight as she is, she was easier to convince than this woman.

Maybe that's what guys mean when they say women are so hard-to-get.

Eh, screw it. While, being ten points below the rest of them knowing her work and theirs were incomparable, was injustice- hey, it's only one failure. Uncompensated as it was, there's a next time. A second chance to make a better comeback.

Luan pulled her phone out of her backpack and opened her to-do-list. There was a test tomorrow in Science, a small pop-sheet she had to do for her Home Economics elective, and some other stuff that took too long to read. Her knees bounced as the world around her grew distant. Life's too short to uncross that bridge; there was a list she had to cross out.