The night still clung to them like a curse as they stumbled out of the karaoke bar. Neon lights bled across their clothes, doing nothing to mask the stench of alcohol radiating from their bodies. Ty tugged at his shirt collar, grimacing as if trying to air himself out, while Donovan kept running a hand through his hair like the gesture alone could erase the disheveled disaster sitting on his head. Chris, on the other hand, looked pleased with himself, humming the chorus of their last, off key performance as if the world were their audience.
They had thirty minutes to get to campus. Thirty minutes before attendance would be taken, before their professor's hawk eyes would sweep the classroom and catch the absence of four empty seats.
And thirty minutes wasn't muchnot when they were standing across town, hungover in spirit, sticky with the kind of sweat that only comes from bad decisions and too much cheap beer.
"Alright, alright we got time," Ty muttered, fishing his phone from his pocket with trembling fingers. He blinked at the screen, then cursed. "Correction. We don't got time. Half an hour. That's it."
Chris snorted, already strolling ahead as though time bent for him. "Relax. Thirty minutes is like… plenty. It's basically a nap."
"Do you even know how far campus is from here?" Donovan snapped, stalking after him. "It's on the other side of the city!"
Gully waddled behind them, dragging his feet, still clutching the karaoke mic he had somehow "accidentally borrowed." His hair stuck up at odd angles, his shirt bore a suspicious ketchup stain, and his eyes were barely open. "Guys… maybe we just… don't go? Sleep sounds real good right now."
Donovan spun around and jabbed a finger at him. "We are going. If I have to drag you there myself, I'll do it."
Ty nodded firmly. "No one's flunking on my watch. Let's move."
They rounded the corner to the street where Ty's car had been parked the night before and froze.
The empty space gleamed back at them like a cruel joke.
Ty's jaw tightened. His fists clenched. His eyes narrowed into slits as his head slowly turned toward Chris, who whistled innocently and took two casual steps backward until Donovan was firmly between them.
"You…" Ty growled. "You said leaving it overnight would be fine."
Chris spread his arms. "I also said, and I quote, 'Don't trust me, I'm high and medicated…prescribed.' That was basically a disclaimer."
Ty lunged forward but Donovan shoved him back with a bark of laughter. "Save it, we don't have time to murder him. We need a bus or something."
As if summoned by fate, the distant rumble of a city bus echoed down the street. They turned in unison, spotting the massive vehicle trundling toward the stop at the corner.
"Go, go, GO!" Donovan shouted.
The four of them bolted.
Chris darted ahead like a rabbit, his long legs cutting through the pavement with ridiculous speed. Donovan thundered behind him, Ty close at his side. Poor Gully trailed, his breath ragged, his arms pumping furiously as his belly bounced with every step. He wasn't huge per se but had gained a fair amount after his last break up.
The bus was already pulling away when they reached the stop.
"No!" Ty bellowed. "Not today!"
In desperation, Gully flung himself forward, one hand catching the steel bar of the rear door. But his grip falteredhis fingers slipped until, by sheer dumb luck, his waistband snagged on the handle.
The bus lurched forward, dragging him by his underwear.
"Help! My ass! My ass!" Gully screamed, flailing wildly as his underwear stretched to physics defying lengths.
Donovan and Ty managed to grab him, heaving his body upward and onto the step just as the driver, a grizzled man with a salt and pepper mustache, slammed the brakes. The bus screeched. Horns blared behind them.
The driver stood, face red with fury, and seized Gully by the collar. "What in God's green earth do you think you're doing, boy?"
Chris ducked past them, already dropping into a seat. "Well," he said loudly, "judging by how far his ass crack was hanging out, I'd say he was auditioning for the Great Sumo championships."
The bus erupted with snickers from the half asleep commuters inside. Gully whimpered, trying to cover himself as he waddled down the aisle.
The driver jabbed a finger at them all. "Sit down, shut up, and don't cause trouble."
They collapsed into the nearest row, gasping for breath.
For a brief moment, they thought they were safe. But then Donovan sniffed the air and groaned. "Oh God. We reek."
It was true. Their clothes clung with the sour stink of alcohol, cigarette smoke, and late night karaoke sweat. A woman sitting across the aisle wrinkled her nose and turned to face the window.
"Alright, damage control," Ty muttered, pulling a pack of gum from his pocket and tossing it around. They chewed furiously, blowing minty clouds over their hands. Gully pulled out a travel sized bottle of cologne, spraying himself until the aisle stank of overpowering spice.
"Better?" Chris asked, lifting an arm to sniff his armpit.
"Worse," Donovan grunted.
Minutes later, as the bus slowed, Donovan leaned forward and frowned. "Wait. This isn't the campus route."
They all turned to look at the driver.
"Uh, excuse me," Ty called. "Aren't you supposed to be going to Eastwood College?"
The driver, Oliver according to his nametag, gave a mirthless chuckle. "Not my route, kid."
Ty stared at him, incredulous. "But but you're a busman! Driving is literally your thing!"
"Yeah," Oliver said. "And today, my thing is the shopping district."
The bus hissed to a stop. They looked at each other, then bolted off before Oliver could throw them out.
The shopping district buzzed with lifeshops opening, workers sweeping sidewalks, neon signs flickering on.
"Taxi," Donovan muttered. "We need a taxi."
Before they could flag one down, Chris veered suddenly into a clothing store.
"Wait what are you doing?" Ty shouted.
"Trust me!" Chris yelled back. "We look like hell. If we walk in dressed like this, we're dead men!"
Groaning, they chased him inside. Within ten minutes, they had swapped their crumpled clothes for crisp shirts, slacks, and jackets. They looked marginally more human though the clock was ticking mercilessly.
"Twenty minutes left," Donovan hissed.
"Guys!" Gully's voice rang out from outside. He was pointing frantically at a row of bicycles chained up by a rental stand. "What if we borrow these?"
Ty shook his head. "We don't have money!"
Gully hesitated, then opened his wallet and pulled out a stack of glossy cards. "What about… my limited edition Mokemon set?"
They all froze.
"Gully, no," Chris whispered reverently. "Those cards are worth hundreds."
But Gully's eyes burned with determination. "Worth more than failing out of college! My dad said he'll make sure to tote my dead ass to military college if I don't straighten out!"
They stared as he made the trade. Moments later, two bikes hit the pavement.
And then they were riding like madmen.
They tore through traffic, swerving between cars as horns blared and pedestrians screamed. Donovan pedaled furiously, with Chris perched on the back seat, clinging to his shoulders. Ty struggled beside them, his legs pumping while Gully wobbled precariously on the back, arms wrapped around Ty's waist.
They didn't have time to stop. So, in a flurry of chaos, they attempted to change into their new clothes while still pedaling. Shirts flew through the air. Pants nearly wrapped around wheels. Ty almost crashed twice as Gully yanked his jacket on backwards.
"Focus!" Donovan roared.
The college gates loomed ahead already groaning shut.
"FASTER!" Chris screamed.
They surged forward, the bikes rattling beneath them, and crashed through the narrowing gap just as the gates clanged shut behind them.
Panting, drenched in sweat, they ditched the bikes and sprinted toward the classroom building. With no time for doors, they dove headfirst through the open window, tumbling into the lecture hall in a heap.
Silence.
For a moment, they thought they were safe. The classroom was quiet. No professor in sight.
Then, slowly, a voice cut through the air.
"Well," he drawled. "That was dramatic."
They turned.
Mr. Heilin stood just to the side of the blackboard, casually leaning against the wall. His apple crunched between his teeth, juice running down his knuckles. His eyes glittered with amusement.
He had seen everything.