I turned around and saw Murasaki grinning wickedly at me, her tongue sticking out between her teeth.

"Well, don't you look dapper this morning, Ryu-kun," she said.

I saw that she'd taken special care with her makeup today, wanting to get as much attention as possible for school picture day.

"I probably look like I do just about every morning," I said. "Unlike you. You're radiant today. You must've gotten up at least an hour early to put your makeup on with that amount of care."

Her grin turned into a smile, reaching her eyes and making them sparkle.

"Why, you're simply too kind," she said, blushing.

"Ryu, she's using supernatural glamor," Yuki said. "She's just going to pretend she did it all herself."

I should've known.

I was about to turn back around when Murasaki leaned forward, as if to whisper in my ear.

"Ryu-kun, why don't you tell Fushineko-sensei that you think we should be allowed to pick our own style and pose?"

She had a mischievous grin on her face.

But there was no way I wanted to argue when Fushineko-sensei was vaping and tossing sass around like a lonely lady with stale bread at a duck park.

"I'll make it worth your while," Murasaki purred.

I heard Yuki scoff from behind me.

"How's that? Will she move to Tibet?" Yuki asked.

Murasaki leaned in so close I could smell her lemon/ginger perfume.

"How do some 'special' pictures sound?" Murasaki teased.

Pretty damn good.

"Oh, as if Ryu's dumb enough to agree to something like that," Yuki said.

Somehow my hand flung itself into the air.

"Oh, Ryu, how could you?" Yuki asked, betrayed.

Fushineko-sensei's eyes locked onto mine, and I felt as though I were in a battle of wills.

Her smokey, catty personality clashed head on with my stubborn, hormone-infused black dragon chutzpa.

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"Kazeyama-san," the nekomata spat. "What do you have to add to this conversation? Nnnyyyaa, I bet something sarcastic that sounds edgy at Hot Topic."

She rolled her eyes.

"Fine, let's hear it," she said.

"I think we should be allowed to pick our poses."

Murasaki whispered into my ear.

"And our outfits too."

"And our outfits too," I said.

Fushineko-sensei stared at me for a full ten seconds before moving.

She slowly reached into her desk and took a long hit on her vape pen. Without breaking eye contact with me.

"You come up with that idea all on your own?" she asked.

Murasaki whispered that this was my idea.

"Yeah," I said.

She huffed.

"You have no idea what you're asking for," said Fushineko-sensei. "Promise me you'll stop this nonsense before it gets out of hand."

Hotaru looked at me and then at the teacher.

"Hey, how come you're taking his idea seriously, but you dismissed mine straight away? They're literally the same idea!"

Hotaru picked up her foot and slammed it on the floor. Her pink and green stripped legwarmers accented her tiny rebellion.

The students around her gasped, but Fushineko-sensei didn't look impressed.

She just yawned and stretched before answering.

"Mreoow, maybe because Kazeyama didn't spend half an hour this morning making himself look like Malibu Barbie does Christmas, Asuka-san."

Hotaru's mouth dropped open.

Then Inego's hand shot into the air, right on time.

"Hey, Fushineko-sensei, I don't think it's fair to dismiss Hotaru like that. Malibu Barbie? Please."

He paused, giving Hotaru enough time to realize he was coming to her defense.

"Not only does she have a genuinely good idea, but she's also bold enough to wear those leg warmers, that match her hair accessories, by the way. And she owns it."

Inego winked at her, and Hotaru turned towards the back of the classroom and blushed.

"Yeah, I noticed how you color-coded," he said.

Fushineko-sensei laughed loud enough to let the hallway ring with the echo, a hollow, sarcastic sound.

"Fallensworth-san, this is literature class. Stop trying to pick up girls," the nekomata growled.

Then she pointed at Hotaru, who spun back around in her chair.

"And Asuka-san? You can do better."

"What?!" snapped Inego.

But Fushineko-sensei waved her hand dismissively.

"Don't fool yourself, Asuka-san. He's all sizzle, no steak."

If it'd been Shion, I might've let that slide. Shion would've deserved it anyway, but not Inego.

"You blow more smoke that I do, Fushineko-sensei, and I'm a dragon," I said.

I heard about a dozen students around me go: OOOOhhhhhhhhh.

I expected her to walk over and slash me with her claes. Her daughter, Natsumi, wouldn't have thought twice.

But Fushineko-sensei was older, wiser, and wouldn't take the bait so easily.

She did, however, take a hit from her vape cart. Right before turning the entire world upside down and blaming it on me.

"Okay, Kazeyama," she said. Her words were as thick as the delta-8 cloud pouring out of her mouth. "You think you know your stuff? Nnnyyyyaaa, all right, then."

She looked around the room, making sure everyone was paying attention.

"Here's what we're going to do. You have about twelve minutes before second period. If you're able, go ahead and just change into whatever you want."

She made direct eye contact with me.

"Go crazy kids. And make sure all the other classes know that this was Kazeyama's idea if they ask what you're doing. Let's get the whole school to join in."

Everyone turned to me and smiled.

Fushineko-sensei took out her cellphone.

"Let's make this thing go viral."

I turned to Murasaki for help. But she was already on social media.

#ryuCMAyearbookphoto

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