𝕊𝕆𝕃𝕀𝕍𝔸𝔾𝔸ℕ𝕋║[ᴅ. ᴡᴀʏɴᴇ]

ᴍɪᴍᴇᴏᴍɪᴀ

Spirit Week - MONDAY: Costumes

Vin shoved away the skirt of Glinda the Good Witch of the North's poofy dress for the fifth time. Next to him, Damian looked to be in a similar position with the person seated to the left, who was dressed in a bulky astronaut suit. (They had a large imprint of the number thirteen on their left breast- who knows why). The tubing and plastic wiring kept stabbing the grumpy boy in the side, and Vin couldn't find it in him to be amused when his lap was full of glitter and pink fabric seventy-five percent of the time.

"We, as the staff, thank those who are participating in Spirit Week," Headmaster Hammer was saying from the podium on the stage. "There will be plentiful photo opportunities, and each class will have their pictures taken as a group. You may turn in any separate ones taken with friends to the front office."

"Bring me a dolphin ice sculpture from the ninth circle of hell, and maybe I'll care..." Vin muttered under his breath. Damian crossed his arms in quiet agreement.

"On the final day of Spirit Week, next Tuesday, there will be no seventh period. We will reconvene in the auditorium to give the winning medals to those with the three best costumes. Each student will cast their ballots during their final class of that day." Hammerhead informed primly. The Headmaster concluded his speech and dismissed the student body. Everyone left the auditorium in one large cluster.

The two boys were surrounded by bright, outrageous outfits and dramatic disguises. It didn't make much of a difference to Vin as they were all equally annoying and left little room for him to move. Damian looked primed to murder as he was shoved along by the rings of a rotund Jupiter, who was toddling along, taking up half of the damned hallway.

They had to fight their way past a Spock, an 80's girl, and four Wonder Women (one being more of a Wonder Boy) to the door of their homeroom. And just as Damian was pushing it open, a dreadfully familiar voice called out the boy's name. Vin instantaneously planted his head onto the wall and gave a thousand-year groan of pure and unadulterated suffering.

"Thought that was you, Wayne," Carmichael Bridgerton, dressed as a rather pretentious-looking knight, walked up to them with a leisurely gait and sleazy upturn of his mouth.

Vin sighed, crossing his arms in wait. I wonder when Floyd's next free booking is...

"What do you want, Bridgerton." Damian gritted out. His eyes were so narrow, they were barely-there slits. It was reminiscent of a certain cowl.

The blonde sighed dramatically, "I told you already, Wayne: the party! Can I put you down for a hell yes, or what?" He nudged Damian in a buddy-buddy gesture. Vin grimaced: One, rich kids really shouldn't try curse words; it just doesn't work. And two-

Damian took Carmichael's arm and yanked it away from its playful jabbing, gripping it tightly until the stupid smile on the blonde's face started dimming into one of discomfort. Finally, he let the boy's wrist fall from his titanic grasp and turned around, opening the classroom door, and leaving the conversation behind.

Vin looked at the popular boy and shook his head at the newly determined (and kind of desperate) look Bridgerton was sporting. Some people just don't know when to throw the towel in. He followed Damian to the back of the classroom and threw himself into his chair. Thankfully, his only seat neighbors were Damian and the person in front of him, who wore a relatively unobtrusive samurai costume. Although the constant clacking of her wooden geta against the floor was becoming yet another problem to add to his infinite list of why everything hated him.

Damian shifted in his seat and shuffled through some papers, accounting for all of his assignments. "Is this 'Spirit Week' really so vital? I have yet to see anyone wearing regulation attire." The other commented.