Villain Academy #JustWriteIt [WATTY AWARD WINNER OF 2015]

+ the 6 with my birthday +

A/N: Thought I'd do a birthday update ;)

Cuz it's mah (belated) buuurthday <3

*news*: I've been preparing a new version of chapter one now that I understand the protagonist more and can focus on distinguishing the setting of the academy and giving it more character.

In other words, expect a rewrite of chapter one soon :)

Oh—and please remember this isn't such a light story and neither is Archer a light boy.

Trying to give this book a psychotic feel but let's be honest, I'm failing at that right now.

Enjoy!

+++

+ the 6 with the birthday +

"Sir!"

Mr. Grim glimpsed above the paper and sighed. "Yes, Lance? What useless information must you share among the class?"

With one cheek leaning on his open palm, he sighed. "I think—" His elbow slipped and his chin hit the counter. The class dissolved into giggles.

"Lance," Mr. Grim repeated.

The boy gave a loopy smile and put two flat hands on the desk. "I think—sir—that my desk buddy, Archer, isn't capable of working with this human dissection assignment." He pointed a pen above 'his buddy'. "He doesn't do so well with dead things."

I lifted my knife off the wood and saw Archer jerk his head to the side, smacking the pen away.

A loud crack came off of Lance's wrist, but the rest of the class continued to stifle their laughter.

My giggle hooked onto his attention and Archer made a one eight degree turn in his chair. He watched me blow a big, hot pink bubble gum and pop it with my knife.

He glared and faced the board again, his shoulders tense as my smile burned at the back of his head.

"I'm fine," Archer told Mr. Grim.

His sharp voice split the laughter in half, it dying out into a fizzle of coughs and a shuffling of feet. Lance smugly grinned behind his hand.

Mr. Grim slipped a paper on Archer's desk. "If you are unfit for this dissection please sign the form and hand it to Headmistress. I don't deal with bullshit." The teacher left Archer with clenched fists and he quickly crushed it under his fingers.

My giggle travelled up the aisle again and he quickly spun, catching my cherry glossed smile. I carved curvy F's and U's into the wood, my knife finishing off swirly C and Ks. Then my knife twisted and chipped away, having a mind of its own.

Now—ever tried feeding a cat into a printer?

The human dissection was like that.

Slow. Painful.

And fucking boring.

Drooled coated my papers; Bett'a call the snooze doctor 'cause that assessment needed a serious dose of fun.

Lance snapped me outta snoozeland when he used the liver as a puppet and pretended to make it talk. Then he chased Archer around with it and screamed, "I'm gonna get'cha! I'm gonna get'cha!"

But once lunchtime rolled around, the word 'interesting' was hit outta the ballpark.

I waved a spoonful of blood pudding in Archer's face. "Lookie here. I got your favourite." I tried feeding him, but he leaned away. Warmth bubbled in my stomach as I did it again, watching him squirm.