Chapter Text
Well, I just got chased out with a fucking knife.
I hide in the car. The damn Asian Crips are after me. I was surfing when they were gangbanging on this spot.
They tried to recruit me, but I was like, “Fuck that!”
So they chased me for HALF A FUCKING KILOMETER with a kitchen knife. One of those big, scary ones too.
So, you don’t know me. No shit, Sherlock, I didn’t introduce myself yet. You might remember me from my last book or two, but if you don’t, then I’m the menace of this fandom, the burrito-eating, butterfly knife-carrying, Sayori-dating, Rosarito-hailing Rivers! My birthday was a few days ago. It was so cool. We all went to Mexico and got drunk as shit. We probably shouldn’t have brought Yuri though.
Definitely shouldn’t.
Anyways, you’re probably wondering what the hell all these names I’m throwing around mean. Okay, so I’m in the Literature Club of Southlake High, the worst high school in Southern California except for this one high school in San Diego. The members are pretty much my only friends.
I drive to school and I sneak past the office and get to the club room. I see all my friends.
There’s Sayori, my girlfriend and childhood friend since I was seven and moved here, she’s totally funny and happy and everything. There’s Evan, my other best friend who I met when I was ten, and he loves comics (weeb alert) and is dating Natsuki (I wonder why). Then we got Conrado, who’s into memes and memes and more memes. He can’t even read English books, the only way he knows how to read English is memes. And he’s dating Yuri, in what I think is the worst pairing since me and school (outside of the club, I hate school). Imagine that, a quiet, deep, and very proper girl who’s into books and a super loud, shallow (sorry, but he don’t like me because I’m Mexican), and very... uh, spontaneous dude who only looks at memes.. and.. other stuff, if you catch my drift. But this is not about Conrado and what he does when we’re not looking. Something is very off with Yuri, and I don’t know what. She’s been missing a lot of club meetings, talking a lot more than she does, and generally acting suspicious.
But it doesn’t matter. We all share poems, and I won’t bore you with all the poems, just mine, Sayori’s, and Conrado.
Here’s mine I wrote yesterday.
Triggerfish
Bubble, bubble, bubble.
Keep blowing and never run out.
Keep swimming fast, never slow down,
Keep eating, never die out.
And whatever you do, don’t fade away.
Or do, it’s up to you.
I shared it with Sayori.
“Wow... this is nice, Rivers! Where’d you get the idea?” Sayori said.
“Well, I was surfing a few days ago and I saw a really pretty fish. Wasn’t a triggerfish, though.”
I’ve always had a weird dreams of seeing a triggerfish, specifically a reef triggerfish, in California. They all live in Hawaii, where they’re the state fish, but supposably the last one to ever be seen here was in San Francisco in 1986.
Anyways, enough about my fishy dreams, on to Sayori’s poem.
Falling For You
Swim.
The only thought that keeps me sane.
I can’t anymore, though. The whirlpool is about to throw me under.
In my final moments, I remember the good times.
The happy moments.
Now I’m fucked.
But before I go under, I feel nothing at all,
And he, on the dock, pulled me up.
I thought this poem was cool, and then I read Conrado’s poem.
YEET BIATCH
When Yuri saw this, she was trying to slap the shit out of him. I just sat there laughing.
“Aw, Yandere Yuri!”
She immediately was going to slap me.
So I backed up.
Yep, a normal day at the club.