"Mate. Mate."
She yelped from two things; the noise, and the glaring light cutting through her eyes.
"Huh?" She blinked out the haze; hearing her voice muddled in sleep.
It hit her, and so did the sudden spike of frustration. Luan shot up, arm shielding her from the flashlight scorching her face. She fell asleep. Again. "Luna!"
"Good morning to you too, lil' sis," Luna muttered dryly.
She hissed through burning eyes. "Get that off my face!"
There was shifting above her before the light went out.
Luan groaned, head heavy. Still feeling a tad bit disoriented. "Ugh, what time is it?"
"One in the o'clock," Luna replied.
Crap. She tossed her blanket to the side and threw her legs at the edge of the bed. Her light yellow leggings were still on, and so was her coat.
Luna dropped her head back on the pillow, grumbling. "You were completely out of it. What kinda juice were you on?"
Luan stood up, guiding herself with the light seeping into the window. She walked over to her vanity mirror and snatched her laptop.
"Juice?" She asked knowingly, a mischievous grin grew on her face.
"I'm serious, dude." Her voice took an exasperated, stern tone. "You didn't drink… sneak anything out the closet, did you?"
"I don't know, let me take a shot in the dark." She smirked, returning to her bed. "I think the bottle said Jack's? Or was it Budweiser?"
"Dude…"
"No, wait, I think it was Mom with the margas? Or was it—"
"Just shut it." Luna draped an arm over her eyes. "You're lucky you didn't sleepwalk to the hallway or somethin', got caught drinking, cuz then I'd get into serious trouble!"
Luan was all too familiar with the additional care packages she sometimes brought home. Hiding it from her was like being ice under the sun. "So, you did bring some of it in?"
"Chunk insisted," Luna admitted sheepishly, and despite being a bunk above her, Luan could imagine the sheer embarrassment on her face. "I was gonna... I don't know, keep that as a gift for Dad's half-bday again or somethin'… Not like I'd drink it."
"Sure…" Luan teased. She sat back on her bed, leaving the laptop slightly ajar as she wiggled her finger to the power button. Luan rubbed her eyes. "Was I that bad?"
There was a long pause. Luan almost thought she had fallen back to sleep. "You were talkin' tipsy and all. Thought you were bickering with Mr. C or somethin'."
"Huh…" Luan propped her pillow up and plopped on it, positioning the laptop on her lap. Eight hours; wasted. Great. What even was this sleep schedule anymore? "Did I blurt out a good pun?"
"Nah. You were going on and on about wanting a break." Luna paused for a moment. "You good?"
"Lincoln, and now, you?" Luan groaned in annoyance, tracing the loop on her screen. "Why's everybody asking me that?"
"We wouldn't if you'd stop actin' like you're buzzed out twenty-four seven." She heard Luna's bed shifting before her head reappeared. "Homework again?"
Luan sat crossed-leg, hunching over right as her desktop appeared. "That sounds lame. I'd call it 'work from home'."
She rolled her eyes. "Since when'd we get paid to do 'em?"
Luan returned her joke with a faint chuckle. Clicking echoed in the room as words flowed freely from her fingertips. Her dewy eyes glistened with the light bathing her face.
Luna glimpsed back and forth between the laptop Luan typed on and her stubbornly stuck face. Doing overtime for work was normal until she started preparing their upcoming theater performance for the Festival of Talents. Now that's when her sleep really took a hit.
Her eyes darted between the document Luan was writing and her face. Almost robotic-like. Like Lisa working on her weird crap studies; Lincoln with his mini-jet models. It's alien-like to see her dead-serious over something before. Then she noticed something, relatively insignificant, but still. "You're not even gonna get cozy with your threads, brah?"
Luan stopped typing, snapping her head to Luna. Feeling unnerved at the sudden stillness coming from her. "Staring is rude, you know. Especially when you're hung like that." A grin bloomed on her face. "Unless you're Lucy."
She forcefully pulled herself back up. "I'm just saying; you didn't even change out your trench."
Luan scoffed and continued writing on her essay. "Yeah, okay."
Luna dropped back to her pillow, a part of her wanting to laugh. For a second, she really thought Luan was over here sneaking a little taste of the forbidden fruit. She forgot she had a little tendency to sleeptalk.
Sleep-arguing sorta counted, right?
She yawned, but quickly blinked the sleep away from her eyes as she realized something. "Wait, don't ya have theater after school today?"
"Yeah, why?" Luan responded. "Planning to sneak the kazoo into my hamlet again?"
Luna snickered. It was fun that one time; a little prank to one-up her. "Nah, just wondering." She thought for a moment.
Typing echoed in the room. She could sense the gears shifting in Luna's head, and by the time she'd realize it, she'd remind her of how much sleep she was gonna be missing out on. "Before you say anything, I got coffee to back me up."
Luna pursed her lips before pulling her head out of the lower bunk. "S'gonna kill ya one day, just you see." Luna scolded. That's just one minor effect of being an all-around, high-standard student. She guessed.
"Tell me something I don't know." Luan snorted wryly, leaning her back on the cold headboard. "It's not like I can go to sleep right now, even if I wanted to. Mr. Fern told us our report's tomorrow, and I haven't started a thing."
Late night homework due the next day, sleeping under eight hours—Luna's been through it all too, thankfully for her, asking Todd to do it all was enough to get by. Tests? Oh, we don't got cheat codes for no reason, right? Now, unless it was a subject that really mattered, like music, Luna Loud didn't need no education.
Only up until high school. The diploma still sorta mattered.
Point is, through all four years in high school, sophomore year was what you'd say, the busiest of them all. It's the transition between freshman year and the real deal.
As the juniors say, to be a sophomore studying in Royal Woods is in a way, a rite of passage. You prove worthy to be a student here if you surpass the hurdles they've set. Luna barely crawled out of the end of the year, but she did, nonetheless.
And from what it looked like, Luan was already falling victim to their traps, especially with her peg right now. "That's what'cha get for hitting the hay in the middle of noon," Luna said.
"What can I say? It's my body clock-ing out."
Luna pondered the idea for a second. Their talk was like this almost every other time. The way she's making it sound, it's that bad. But Luan never usually asked for help, and maybe that's because nobody offered it to her. "Mind if I give you a hand to wrap things up quicker?"
Lesson learned. "No, thanks. I'm good." She mumbled without thinking. After a brief pause, she realized… whoa, did Sam give her a peck on the lips of what? She never offered help for school like that. "Go ahead and borrow my blanket if you're cold. You should head back to sleep."
Head back to sleep? Please. Luna rolled her eyes. Every morning she hopped out of bed, Luan would be as sluggish as a caffeine addict without his joe. "Says you; I've seen people with insomnia looking fresher than you in the morning!"
"Well, they don't have to lead three groups with all outputs due the next day." She blew a stray hair up. "Now, shut up. This essay won't finish itself."
Hostility dripped from her tone. Normally, Luan didn't even need to say it; she'd leave without another word, but maybe this time, she kind of did wanna offer a hand. Luna leaned down on her pillow, crossing her arms over her chest. "You sure you don't need any…?"
"Yes! I don't need help!" Luna recoiled at her tone. "What's it to ya?"
"Is it that wrong to care, dude?"
Luan was heard stammering, closing her mouth before the wrong word spilled out. "… Sorry; just… go back to sleep, Lunes. I'll take care of this."
She continued to type away at her essay. Fine, keep your secrets.
"Okay, okay. Chill." Luna went quiet after. Wait. Speaking of chill…
Luna peeked down. "Can I at least snag your sheets for the night?"
"What a way to break the ice; can't give you a cold shoulder for that." Luan giggled, grabbing her laptop and going out of bed. "But seriously, here."
Luna reached out for the blanket and shot her a grin. "See ya in the morning, ya walker."
"If I'm able to." Luan quipped. Not long after, shifting was heard as Luna went back down to bed.
The laptop was warm against her hand. She sat on the edge of her bed, checking the time, almost dropping it in the process. Shoot, it's almost two!?
Luan chewed the inside of her lip, contemplating. Should she stay here, risk another conversation to cut her time short, or… risk getting caught crashing in the dining room again?
1:49
Her alarm clock glowed neon green like a signal telling her: go.
She got her answer. A few seconds later, light snoring slipped into her ears. She naviagated through the darkness with muscle memory, and changed into her pajamas for comfort and discarded her casual clothes onto the laundry basket in the closet. Being in your room doesn't guarantee you safe from nosy siblings as such, not even if your roommate sleeps with punk rock in her headphones nearly every night.
Luan picked her notebook up from the nightstand and tucked her laptop underneath her arm. Holding her breath, she tiptoed out of the room. It's too risky to stay awake here. Not to mention, too chilly. Typing with shivering hands in slow mode was the worst.
And that's why the dining room was always the best option.
In her mind, moving mountains and splitting waters like Moses to the Red Sea isn't impossible, 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. In the darkness of the dining room, her laptop glowed, bathing her face with a yellowish hue.
And by hurdles, she meant the fifth group report this week.
Wednesday hadn't even started.
Her half-lidded eyes danced across the screen, scanning the first row she formulated in Excel. Type of Music; Definition; Image.
She slumped against the wooden chair. Her back ached. Her shoulders ached, but by the end of all this, it'd all be worth it. Sure, she's doing most of the work. Yeah, her group mates were probably snoozing at this hour, waiting on her instructions tomorrow. And sure, they'd all get the same grade no matter the outcome, but who cares? It was still her work. It was still under her name, even if she had to share; and living with thirteen people under one roof, who's to assume she'd mind?
She frowned as her eyes fell on the time. 3 AM. Three hours before she'd have to go back up to her room. Wouldn't wanna worry Mom and Dad if they found her here, again; especially Dad. Then get nagged for living unhealthy like she had any other choice, all the while teetering to the edge of a blow-up every time. You know, like every other day.
Deep inside, they understood, though, even when her siblings didn't: working late in the Loud house is the only time you can ever really get things done.
Luan swallowed air, cringing at the sharp tendrils running down her throat. She stood up slowly, grimacing as her chair was quickly pushed back.
It's not like her room was a preferable choice, or any of the second floor. The heater malfunctioned all the time, even at the cusp of winter, when weather plunged below 5, so by the time seasons like this came, the second floor would remain chilly and untouched, and most of them would be huddled up down here having much more pun doing anything but getting things done!
Ooh, rhyme! Luan thought. That'd put Lucy to shame.
Taking her phone and turning the flashlight on, Luan skipped to the kitchen; walking over to the fridge and grasping at the handle. Before opening it, her eyes caught on an unfamiliar yellowish card plastered over the surface.
Humming, she hovered her phone over the still-closed fridge door.
Haven't seen this before.
Wait. Her lips curled into an excited grin. It's here?
Character slips, that's what Royal Woods proposed. Any form of work isn't complete without a reward, and only now, did the state realize that. The Michigan Department of Education decided that report cards weren't enough. According to the director himself, Miguel Flanagan, "What's IQ without EQ and SQ?"
Along with the usual parent-teacher conference, teachers would hand out a card with the student's behavior at school, serving as handheld commentaries of their behavior. The weirdest part is that this would affect, if not, define your semester. Morals and character were now part of the grading system, all under the Homeroom class. Everyone at school talked about it like the Holy Grail, seeing as to how teachers would just go on long paragraphs stroking the students' egos in these slips. And well, she'd be lying if she said she didn't wanna see hers too.
She glanced at one card. Lincoln's. Then she smiled.
That was the best part. These cards, or slips, whatever you wanna call them, also had the bonus of inviting you to the recognition. If you made it into the honor roll, this slip would tell you first.
It was a silly notion at first, at least to Luan, but that's only because she had a thing against acting like a goody-two-shoes for grades. Sounds sorta... cheap? Fabricated? Something a teacher's pet would do. She wasn't Lucy, but Principal Rivers and especially her assistant Oliver knocked some sense in her early on in the first semester.
"Think about it, Luan." He had an unusually sly glint in his eyes. "You're aiming to be on the top of the honor roll too, hm?"
"Uh, yeah." Luan furrowed her eyebrows. No retaliation? No reprimanding this time? "So?"
"Look," Oliver walked over to the window. "This is the second time you bombed the inside of River's car blue. Do you know how expensive the car wash was for that? Anyway," And that's how Rivers took the lead and said that if she wanted to get to the top of her game, she'd have to turn over a new leaf.
It was a collective decision. All her teachers brought it up, but it wasn't until Rivers had a taste of paint the second time that the school moved on it.
At the time, it sounded like some form of blackmail: If you don't stop your shenanigans, there's not a chance you'll make it into the honor roll. It could've been the guilt, being the bane of the teacher's existence and all, telling her she deserved it. But their blackmail was a bargain. She'd been vying for the honor roll was something she'd been vying for ever since MDE declared that the list was no longer exclusive and that all honor students deserve a recognition ceremony for their deeds.
All she had to do was act normal for the rest of the year, and the following until she graduated, and it'd be all good.
But Luan wasn't normal. She was a Loud, and Louds… can never be quiet.
Still working on the oxymorons. Dang. Punning is so much easier.
For the first part of the year, she was already booking leadership roles back and forth. Exhausting, sure. Mentally draining, very, but she'd do it all.
And by the looks of it, it laid itself before her, all was 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.
Oh! Her eyes flicked to one. Found it!
Royal Woods High School
CHARACTER SLIP
Student Name : Luna Loud
Grade Level: Junior
She blinked to make sure she was reading right. Okay, maybe I'm dyslexic.
Luan continued reading. Let's see what the Loudest Loud's got in store. Parties? Reckless guitar playing? Hm, the possibilities…
"Your daughter… 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… yadda, yadda, yadda…."
This sounds like those personality tests she and Luna took when they were younger for fun. Ones like, 'What does your fave color say about you?', or 'What is your biggest strength based on your picture?' Luan smirked impishly, her eyes trailing down the word vomit on Luna's card.
She bought Mr. Hamilton tickets to a November Fever show again. It's so obvious.
She skimmed over the rest of their cards and the commentaries written on them. 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…
Nothing academic around here. No… fastest learner in class, or most eager to learn lame subjects here.
Except for Lisa, but that's old news.
Her grin grew wider, and each second the anticipation grew, it was harder to hold a laugh. It's showtime.
Luan pointed a finger at each one. One, two, three… She counted.
Eight. Preschool didn't count. College was out of the window.
So, there could only be one Loud off the roster.
Impossible. Luan thought; lips pursed. She mentally crossed 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 gushing over her bare minimum for literature class. Lisa…! 1st grade doesn't make room for any innovative inventions, and finding cures for cancer, right?
Nope, that'd be silly. Lisa's slip was situated a little higher than the others. "With High Honors", in big bold letters. She scoffed. Really had to show it off, huh.
Her chest grew tight. It has to be here somewhere.
With unstable breaths, Luan mumbled the numbers out in chronological order before coming to one conclusion:
It wasn't.
A familiar tug dumped over her, like cold water heavy on soaked clothes. Oh well. Luan gripped the fridge handle tighter. Maybe mom and dad just 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.
The fridge flashed a fiery white light onto her, and she squinted, feeling the rows to find that one bottle. Found it. Her throat cooled with each sip of water. 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.
Her muddled, sleep-deprived mind skipped to the only other assumption: it was probably hidden.
Maybe the results were so good, Mom and Dad had to hide it.
Yeah, that has to be it.
The fridge closed and the atmosphere darkened. She slipped back into her chair and begrudgingly flicked her mouse, scrolling down her long, long document- to be PowerPoint.
So good that it may have listed down everything she was entitled to be. Early on in the school year, the guidance counselor evaluated her with the conclusion that she was just a resilient sophomore with a zany sense of humor for a personality. Yeah, 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, unlike her older sisters, actually aced every single test, passed homework almost way too early.
She's given them the same things, the same achievements last year, on a higher scale, with the bonus of not throwing in whoopee cushions on the teacher's chair every day. Surely her slip would be like Lisa's. It'd be full of all her greatest achievements. It'd have With Honors imprinted in bold red, and as for her rank?
With the rate she was going now, she'd definitely be in the top ten.
But while the first semester focused more on making things right and impressing the teachers, this one would be on maintenance. On keeping up with the pressure. Just they wait. Luan snorted cockily, still a little too weary to continue her report. She'd be considered even smarter than Lisa. Even more ambitious than Lincoln.
And today was just another dawn. Taking the expedition to perfection one step at a time.