VOXISTALE: Novel Edition

Chapter 11

"Are you sure you'll be fine?" Asgore asked from the driver's seat of his topless truck.

Frisk rolled her eyes in exasperation, though not blatant disrespect, "Dad, I'll live," she assured him. "It's not like I forgot how to school."

He chuckled, and nodded his head, "I know, I know . . . I just want you to have a good day."

"You too," she replied, reaching over and giving him a quick hug before throwing open her door and pulling her backpack out with her.

"And tell that Terrence boy that he's free to come over for dinner tonight. I'm making vegetarian lasagna," Asgore informed his adopted daughter as she closed the door, her face flushing, much to the old King's delight.

"I'll let him know," Frisk said, despite her embarrassment. She couldn't tell if he was being serious or not, but knowing Asgore, he'd be delighted if Frisk invited Terrence over for dinner.

Her adopted father gave her a kind smile and a thumbs up, before driving away, headed off to work. In truth, Frisk was feeling a little intimidated. Returning to school after so long, even a week and a day, felt strange. She felt kind of . . . gross, almost, like her gut was trying to tell her how bad it was that she'd missed school. Luckily, she was already almost caught up on homework, which made her feel a bit better. Taking a deep breath, she headed toward the building.

As per usual, her morning class was Marine Biology with Greg. She felt a bit bad for brushing him off so often the past week, she'd have to make it up to him soon. However, when Frisk arrived in class, Gregory wasn't there. Immediately, that concerned her. He was always there. Even after she took her seat and waited, more people arrived, and Greg still didn't show. Mind preoccupied, Frisk didn't even notice the girl asking her if Greg's seat was taken.

"Hey!"

Frisk jumped, turning her head to look at the girl. She seemed to be a couple inches taller than Frisk, with thick and fluffy dirty blonde hair covering most of her face. Only a single turquoise-colored eye could be seen. "Sorry," the girl added quickly. "I was just wondering if this seat was taken? My friend and I are new and . . . he already found his seat."

She turned her gaze from Frisk to the desk in front of Greg's at a large, muscular boy with thin black hair shaved close to the scalp, and deep blue eyes, staring back at the girl with an expectant, possibly even hopeful gaze. Frisk followed the girl's gaze to the boy, blinking.

"So, uh . . . this seat. Taken? No?"

"It's not taken," Frisk informed her, before quickly adding; "Well, usually my friend sits there, but it doesn't look like he's here today."

"Cool. I'll keep his seat warm," the girl said, taking a seat. Frisk felt a little strange. She always sat next to Greg in this class. His absence was worrisome- or maybe he'd transferred classes? She hoped that was all there was to it, not sure what to think.

"Are you.. alright? You're sweating a bit," the girl whispered as Mr. Gagne immediately launched into one of his infamous, mind-numbing rants about oceanic pressure levels, or maybe this one was about seashells. Greg was the only one who could pay attention long enough to know, half the time.

"Huh?" Frisk turned distractedly to the girl. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I just—it's nothing." She returned her attention to Mr. Gagne as he droned on, excitedly talking about the amount of plankton consumed by whales on a daily basis. How the man found this exciting was a mystery to anyone, but nobody seemed more out of it than the new girl's dudebro friend, who was staring blankly at Mr. Gagne with wide, glassy eyes, mouth halfway open, a bit of drool beginning to drip down. It was gross, but also a bit humorous to look at.