The Return of the Summer Camp Six

Return of the Summer Camp Six
By SFCammy and OrigamiLuke100

A Note from Principal Villanueva
Collected by Alfred Russo, AKA Octopleat

Alfred,

Thank you for contacting the office of Principal Villanueva. While we appreciate your interest in improving the new school system, Principal Villanueva is busy ensuring that the temporary end of the year merging between Wheeler and Kirby high schools is as smooth and efficient as possible. 

Principal Ainsley has also informed us of your actions during the play adaptation of Fiddler on the Roof at Kirby. Please understand that this behavior will not be tolerated at Wheeler and any outstanding strikes against school policy will be taken into account for any suggestions that you may have. 

If you are still interested in submitting a policy request, please use the attached document. Your request is #8,303. 

Sincerely,
Kurt Blum, office student intern

 

The Silence of the Summer Camp Six
By Mike Kasdan, AKA Mysterigami

Um, hi. It’s Mike, the SCS’s writer, actor, and technical visual expert. Here to bring things up to date on the group. 

And that date is… April 18.

Kirby’s school year is starting to wind down. Overall, all I have to worry about is finals. I already did my big role in the school play—Fiddler on the Roof, where we, the Summer Camp Six, officially revealed ourselves: Alfredo Russo (Octopleat), Asher and Ian (OriVulture and Sandpaper-Man), Jonathan Zeck (Origami Kraven), and me, Michael Kasdan (Mysterigami). 

I know. That’s only five people. Let me explain. For one, we had a kid named Joseph Cullen who was lined up to be Electrofold, but he transferred to a private arts school before the year began. And then there’s the whole thing with Aaron. 

Aaron Martin had wielded origami Taskplaster. He formed our group over the course of Kirby’s summer camp, promising some serious havoc-wreaking when the school year kicked off. When it did, it was kind of disappointing. Aaron didn’t really have a plan to lead the group. 

Alfredo Russo did. Alfred was a geek, but after hearing about the Summer Camp Six, he met us behind the scenes and promised to have a plan for havoc-wreaking. He wasn’t very specific, but he was very confident, which was something Aaron was lacking. So yeah, we dumped Aaron as the group leader. 

Alfred had led us all out onto the stage on the night of Fiddler on the Roof, kicked Aaron from the group, and we exited. In glorious fashion, thanks to my smoke machine, by the way. I have a flair for the visuals. 

To be honest, we haven’t done much since kicking out Aaron from the team.

Alfred got two weeks of detention for it. We didn’t see Aaron much anymore, but I don’t think it lifted his spirits. The guy seemed down. I see him now and then, but he keeps his head down and doesn’t talk to me. 

Doesn’t do great for my personal insecurities. The thought of unresolved tension with someone…

Okay, Mike, breath. Poetry helps with this. 

Aaron, I feel bad about how we left things

It haunts my dreams

I didn’t mean to be a pest

I feel bad about kicking you from the team

But I gotta be honest

I like Alfred as our new head

He’s a geek but at least he seems smart

So forgive me if I side with him instead

He’s been pretty cool since you and I had to part

And doesn’t yell at me (much) when I sing

Alright, feeling better. 

Anyway, after that whole thing with Aaron… not much has happened. There’s some drama going on with the OrigAvengers, so Ian, Asher, and Jonathan have been off on some random tirade. Not sure what that’s about.

Alfred hasn’t been doing much, either. He got what he wanted—he’s now the leader of the Summer Camp Six, but he seems to be waiting for something to turn up. I don’t mind having a break, but…

I’m kinda lonely. I’ve run out of things to do—I read The Tempest again, edited my vlog on my winter break trip to Greece, and memorized the rest of the parts of Fiddler on the Roof. The year’s starting to wrap up, and I’m worried we won’t get to do anything villainous before the year ends. 

It’s just quiet. 

 

Settling Dust
By Asher Stevenson, AKA OriVulture

“Well…” I said. “That didn’t go over well.” 

Ian and I were sitting outside the Kirby basement. The F.O.L.D. headquarters. Whatever. In any case, Tilly Waterson had just emerged from those basement doors, Captain Mar-fold puppet in hand, and kicked our butts. 

Honestly, I didn’t mind, because the first butt she kicked was John Yeargensberg’s. Man, that dude had been annoying. First, T.H.A.N.O.S. had promised us some action against the OrigAvengers at the Kirby King. Instead of letting us have our sweet revenge, John held back and ended up locking them in the conference room. Big whoop. Then, when it really mattered and we needed to keep that Waterson girl from leaving the school, John folded quicker than a collapsible lightweight aluminum portable roll up table. (They’re, overall, quite effective. One of my better dumpster diving finds.)

The point is, John Yeargensberg was a jerk for not letting us be jerks. Just because he had the “proper, certified authority” from T.H.A.N.O.S. for being the captain of our squad, he acted like he had all of the power. And somehow, he had seemed to think it was our fault that Tilly escaped. 

“What was that?” he had shouted at me and Ian. “Ian, we brought you on for your muscle. You’re a Russian exchange student, for crying out loud! Your last name is Drago!”

“I’m from Kazakhstan, actually.”

“Hzzt!” John shushed(?) Ian, turning his attention to Jennifer, who wielded Ghost, from Ant-Man. “And Jennifer! You…” Jennifer turned her withering stare to John, and he backed down with a gulp. “You did fine,” he said. “But everybody else, prepare for the full wrath of T.H.A.N.O.S. They’re not gonna be happy.”

“If you’re the ‘certified captain’ of our little group, aren’t they going to hold you responsible?” I pointed out. 

John paled. “Crap. I gotta go.” He ran off down the hallway. Good riddance. 

Jennifer sighed. “Well, this was fun, but I have homework.” She left, too, leaving just the members of the Summer Camp Six. Ian was sitting down, slumped against the hallway wall. 

I joined him. “Well… that didn’t go over well.”

Ian grunted in agreement, but was quickly cut off by a third party. 

“That’s an understatement. You guys are [CENSORED] idiots.”

Oh, right. Did I forget to mention Jonathan Zeck, the Summer Camp Six’s Origami Kraven, was there? I try to forget him when at all possible. Why, you ask? Well…

“Have you guys ever heard of a salmon? It’s a type of fish,” he rambled. I glanced at Ian, who looked just as disinterested as I was. “Now, salmon travel upstream to lay their eggs seasonally. And when they do, fishermen throw out their nets and catch them.”

“I know how fishing works, Jonathan,” I said. 

“That’s literally all we had to do. Cast a net and prevent the salmon—Tilly—from leaving the school.” The annoyance went out of his eyes and was replaced by defeat. He joined us on the floor. “Why does the girl—I mean, fish—always get away?”

“Great question, dude,” I said, rolling my eyes. “I mean, she had help. The older Largent brother, that blonde Jesse dude…”

“Whatever.”

The three of us sat in silence. 

“So…” Ian said. “What now? There’s no way T.H.A.N.O.S. is gonna hire us again after that.”

“[CENSORED] right,” agreed Jonathan. 

“I guess our mission for T.H.A.N.O.S. is over,” I said finally. I felt disappointed that my time getting to fight the OrigAvengers was over, but it wasn’t like that was the end. We still had the Summer Camp Six. We could still be the villains.

At least, that’s what I thought. 

The next day, I found out that Kirby was closing. And my hopes collapsed. 

 

TaskPlaster Learns a New Skill
By Aaron Martin, AKA Taskplaster

The power to speak can move people sometimes even further than pushing them down. It’s a shame that I can’t do that. You don’t know how hard it is; I have a mouth, but I cannot say what’s needed to be said.

Picture it: you want to yell, cause an uproar as you’re learning your high school is being closed down by a couple of students that will graduate before they see the full effects. Then, the “heroes” walk around, talking about how this is a good thing, a smart thing. You want to boo and hiss and curse, but nothing will come out.

But, there is one thing I can do: cry.

A silent sob, feeling the impact. Yes, I would get myself beat up to transfer, I would meet people because I wanted to be the bad guy, I started a team for a reason: to cause chaos. But this, oh, this. This is worse than chaos and tragedy. This is organized destruction.

So, I cry.

I was enjoying my time here, arguably I thought it was fun and interesting. Nothing was impossible at Kirby, and I thought it was fun to be on the ‘wrong’ side, to be the bad egg. A silent, bad egg.

Tears stream down my cheeks.

How could it happen like this? How could it go down in such a brief manner at a Save the Trees event?

In that moment, I was utterly alone. 

I’ve lost everything. The chances of having a good father, the ability to speak, a normal life, and the team I led. If all of that wasn’t enough, here I am, watching as my school closes.

I’ve felt alone for a lot of my life. My mom has been there, but that hasn’t stopped me from losing everything. It’s gotten to the point where I’m scared to care about something again. I took a chance with the SCS, and look how that turned out. And now I’ve lost my school. 

My mouth opens.

My vocal chords constrict, and I let out a scream.

It’s high pitched, it’s loud, and it’s upsetting. It’s short, though. I was that upset, that I screamed. It’s all I could muster.

Nobody in the crowd paid me any attention. I wasn’t the only one upset over the closing, I guess. 

The crowds faded, it emptied out, and I couldn’t think straight.

I walked home that day. For once, the world felt as quiet as me. What was it? Was it the impact of it?

I walked into my house. My mom signed “How’s it going? What’s wrong?” 

It was a general thing to do sign language in my house. Mom could speak, and whenever the pizza was wrong, boy would I hear it.

I signed “Nothing” and walked over to the TV. Immediately on Madison Local News I saw newscasters talked about Kirby’s closure.

“What?!” my mom yelled. Yep, there it was. “Kirby’s closed? But you have two weeks left this year!”

I sighed and signed “I was there when it happened.”

“I’m so sorry!” she said. “Why-who-who decided this was okay? I’m going to call them.”

“No, there’s no need to,” I signed.

“I-I’m sorry honey. I’m going to leave you alone.”

She walked back into the kitchen, and started scrubbing the dishes harder than before.

I went to my room and crashed on the bed.

He sat on my bedpost – Taskplaster, a new one I made. I grabbed him and looked at him. How could this have happened?

I felt powerless. I thought leading the SCS would give me power over my life. But this stuff still happened anyway. 

Forget it. Maybe it’s time I become something better.

 

Stay Calm, and Relax the Freak Out.
By Alfred Russo

Shattered.

That’s a good word. Do you know what that word means? Shattered – broken into many pieces, exhausted.

My team was Shattered. The other definition, not broken into many pieces, we just were in desperate need of a pick-me-up. Something to lift one another off of our feet, to make us smile. To make us laugh.

Chaos. Have you heard of that one? Harrison and his group caused controlled chaos. Chaos is funny. Chaos leads to change, and change is usually positive… for one side, that is.

Wheeler students were happy. One couldn’t deny that – they were saved. Why shouldn’t you be happy when you know you can go through your career right where you started? 

Okay, breathe Alfred, breathe. You’re the leader, stop rambling to yourself. Stop this little inner-monologue of gastrointestinal liquid. Look at them, they’re staring at you, they’re disheveled, they’re tired. Mom brought us Pizza Rolls. Get out, mother. Get out. Stop talking to Mike. Get out. Okay, she’s gone. Maybe I can begin with the question I’ve been formulating in my mind:

“Let’s get one thing out of the way: why’d you help them?” I started. They all looked at one another, dumbfounded. “Well, Jonathan, Asher, and Ian, why?”

“We had issues with the OrigAvengers.” Asher said, his face contorted for a moment, and then he started to whimper. Poor, poor, poor Vulture. Nothing ever goes his way. Cry.

“Well, not just that, we were under the impression that Cal Largent would be there, y’know, the one we all dislike? The person we formed this team around?” Jonathan Zeck said.

Truth be told, I have no clue why Aaron formed this team. I took over forcefully, and he didn’t like that, but I really wouldn’t have it any other way.

“So you helped T.H.A.N.O.S.? Wh-why couldn’t you three have taken a step back for one second, a morsel of a thought, and say ‘hm, maybe I shouldn’t close the school I attend?’” I could feel my face burn. I was about to blow up.

“We didn’t know,” Ian murmured. I walked over to him.

“What did you say?” I placed my hand on his shoulder, starting to dig in. He was strong, I know if he wanted to take me down he could, but we were all so upset that it would be highly illogical to do just that. And, he was in my territory. Stupid.

“I-I said we didn’t know, boss. No one could have guessed this.”

I lifted my hand off of Ian’s arm, letting go. He rubbed that area, hurting.

I walked back to the front of the room.

“Mike, on a scale of one to ten, how upset are you with Kirby closing down?”

“Like, nine or ten,” he said. “Actually, I read somewhere that someone thought I was injecting people with hallucinogens when that just wasn’t the case. Ezra Cronin. Yeah, I was working with Poe, but it didn’t go down like that. I think, without the Kirby King website anymore, I’m a bit happier on a fresh start. So, maybe an eight, or a seven.”

“An eight,” I said. “An eight. How saddening is that, an eight.”

“Oh yeah? Well I’m a TEN! Through-and-through!” Jonathan said, “All I wanted was a relationship of my own, but now I’m fishing by myself. I just want to grill at Kirby for Yang’s Sake!” His country twinge was clear as day. “I would’ve had a hunting partner.” He puts his head in his hands, a slow sob, “Someone that would wear Pink camo and find deer for me in the hills of Appalachia.”

“Is… Appalachia even in New York?” I asked. Listen! I’m a computer genius, not some backwoods hunter. This only made Jonathan weep louder. I sighed, “Everybody-” my team started to cry, “I said everybody.” Mom opened the basement door. 

“Is everything alright down there?” she asked.

“Yes, mother,” I said. “Get out!”

She jumped a bit and then closed the door.

“Everybody, shut, and I can’t put this any more bluntly, up.”

The weeping continued. In a fit of irrational thinking, I walked over to my bookshelf, and pushed all the books off with some struggle.

With a loud thud, my team fell silent. I turned to face them.

“Listen to me and listen to me well, because let me tell you some words.” They all faced me, their eyes red with tears, “Do you guys miss our school?”

Whimpering. Like dogs. “Yeah,” “I miss it so much,” “this sucks!”

“Okay, shut up, I get it. Hear me out, I mean, you’ll have to obey since I’m your leader, but hear me out on this: what if we brought it back?”

“Kirby?” Mike asked.

“No, you dunce, I’m talking about Heinz EZ Squirt,” I said sarcastically. They didn’t get it. I guess that’s what I get for always sounding this way, “Yes, dingus, I’m talking about Kirby. We could bring it back.”

“But, Aaron said-” Jonathan started.

“Aaron is mute. He said nothing. He’s not a part of the team. I know we’re villains, we’re supposed to be, right? But this time, just this once, let’s do something good. Let’s get our school back.”

“But how? How are we even going to do that?” Asher asked.

“Simple: we’ll do good by being bad. Cause as much chaos in Wheeler as possible, establish ourselves as the bad guys, and I’ll try obtaining a meeting with the school board to showcase that merging the schools was a bad idea. We’ll split up and cause chaos all over Wheeler. It’s a return to form.”

Jonathan, as my Twitch chat would do, made a poggers face, “Fred, you genius!”

“I have my moments.”

They started to get hyped up, stuffing their face. 

Then, they started chanting “Do good by being bad!” over and over.

The crazy thing? I’d tried this before. When we first learned of this closing, I had tried contacting Ainsley and Villanueva, and apparently word gets around fast when you’re the octopus on the roof. Neither of them were having it, and I went back and revised the plan to be a lot more out there. I needed the whole Summer Camp Six (or five) to get this audience with Ainsley and Villanueva. 

Oh, these idiots.

 

Chaos at Wheeler
By Ian Drago, AKA Sandpaper-Man

Well, it is official. Kirby students are behind the enemy lines. 

In response to Kirby’s close, Wheeler has taken in Kirby students for the last few weeks of the school year. Afterwards, everyone will need to decide where they are schooling for the rest of the year. 

The merging had been seamless enough. The tensions were still high between Kirby and Wheeler students, but I doubt that that would be a problem at the start of the next school year. Eventually, nobody would be able to keep track of former Kirby students.

I don’t mind the fresh start terribly. Being from Kazakhstan, Kirby students were not very kind to me for my accent. Being a tough guy helped with that, and learning better English made things easier. 

Still, I miss Kirby and most definitely did not want it to close. If I had known that when doing T.H.A.N.O.S.’s dirty work, I was bringing about the fall of Kirby… let us just say that the OrigAvengers and I would have temporarily had a common purpose. 

Nevertheless, causing chaos is my speciality. 

Mine… and Asher’s. 

“So, what’s on the agenda for the day?” Asher asked me, picking up a random food wrapper off the ground. We had met outside Wheeler before school to discuss our plans of chaos for the sake of good.

I read the list that we prepared. “Start a fight with the moon pie from the cafeteria, use one of Mike’s smoke machines in a classroom, surround Principal Villanueva’s office with caution tape, put recycling labels on trash cans—”

“I’m still strongly against that one.”

“—spray paint random white lines on the Wheeler soccer field, place a bluetooth speaker in the vent system and blast heavy metal rock from a safe distance, replace library books with classic children books…”

“Have Mike do the library one,” Asher suggested uncomfortably. “Maybe he’ll read a book or something.”

I glanced at Asher. “Why?”

“I have a… thing. Kinda…” he started. I continued to stare at him. He blurted out, “I’ve got a fear of libraries, okay? Do you know how many trees die for a library? And… there’s a lot of books in a small space. The smallest shift in gravitational forces could send them all toppling down.”

I laughed. “What?”

“Shut up. Let me see that,” Asher said, grabbing the list. He scanned it, and his eyes became fixed on something. “Let’s do this one.” He showed it to me. 

“I’ll have to skip Algebra class,” I noted.

“When’s that ever been a problem?”

I sighed. “Very well.”

 

Library
By Mike Kasdan

I didn’t mind skipping lunch to go to the library. It combined two of my passions: literature and causing chaos. 

Ian and Asher wanted me to pull some kind of stunt involving children’s books, but I don’t exactly carry those around with me. I do have the audio books of hundreds of classical works, but that’s another story. 

I showed up to the Wheeler library. It was pretty quiet, even for a library. There were a few kids lounging around and a librarian in a corner. She seemed to be engrossed in a book, so I figured I could still pull some kind of trick without her noticing. 

I made my way into an semi-hidden aisle, trying to think of how I could cause chaos. This is so dumb, I thought. The point of the chaos is to get attention. To show that Kirby closing was a bad idea. Nobody’s even here.

I put my hands against the nearest row of books, ready to push some off of the shelf or something. Then…

“Hey, what’s up?” someone said. I turned to see a kid with a Scott Pilgrim hoody and backpack full of books. He gave me the vibes of an A student immediately. 

“Nothing,” I said awkwardly. 

“Sorry, it’s just, nobody ever comes in here except for me, Miss Jamie, and N—well, it doesn’t matter. I’m Duncan.”

“Mike.”

“You from Kirby?”

“Yeah,” I said apprehensively, but Duncan just shrugged.

“Cool,” he said. “What are you looking for?”

“Um… just browsing.”

Duncan nodded, seemingly unsure of what to say. “I’ve uh, been reading some comic books. The Spectacular Spider-man. Stuff like that.”

I shifted uncomfortably. “Oh, yeah, I’m more of a classical literature guy.”

His eyes lit up. “Oh! Like Shakespeare?”

“Yeah.”

“Have you read The Complete Works of William Shakespeare Abridged? It’s like all of his plays mashed into a comedy play.”

My interest shot up. “Really?”

“Yeah, come check it out. There’s a copy over here.” I followed Duncan out of the aisle. He walked over to a table that was claimed by a stack of books and tossed me one. “There you go,” he said. 

“Thanks! I’m, uh, big on plays. And visual effects. And editing. But mostly plays. I used to do them all the time at Kirby.”

“Hey, you should join us,” Duncan said excitedly. “I used to do read throughs all the time with a former friend of mine, Naph.”

“Former friend?”

“Long story. You wanna do one after classes?”

I looked around at the library, which suddenly seemed much bigger and warmer. “Yeah, that’d be great!”

“Can I have your number?”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” I gave it to him.

Duncan smiled. “Cool, man. See you then.” He ducked out of the library, sending a quick “Bye, Miss Jamie” to the librarian as he left.

And for the first time, Wheeler started to feel like home. 

Wait. No. No, Kirby was home. 

I shook off the feeling. I was Mysterigami. I had a mission. I was here for a reason. 

I ducked back into the nearest aisle and swept the books off the shelves. All of the books I could. They fell to the ground in a heap. 

Oh, goodness. I’d done it.

“What was that?” I heard Miss Jamie say. “Everything okay?” I could hear her walking over. I panicked and exited around the other side of the aisle as she got closer. 

I ran out of the library, my stomach in a knot. 

I felt like crying, and I couldn’t figure out why. This would get me what I wanted, right? Chaos would get us Kirby back. That’s what mattered. That’s what I wanted. 

 

Meeting Silver Label
By Aaron Martin

I don’t know the first thing about being a hero. 

Actually, I don’t know the first thing about being here, at Wheeler. It’s a new layout, there’s too many halls, yet it’s superior in every way. I’ll have to finish my career here, which is pretty upsetting. 

We Kirbians walk these halls that aren’t ours, these Wheelerians can’t keep them. All of us don’t want it.

Is this harmony? Is this peace? Is this sanctuary? It sure doesn’t feel like it.

Lunch is a dud. It’s pointless. I can’t bring myself to eat. Heck, I can barely get up and move between classes.

If I can’t make it through two weeks, how am I going to make it through three years as the mute student?

Sluggishness is a one thick milkshake. 

Little did I know that things were about to change. 

I sat alone at lunch—ironically, trying to enjoy one thick milkshake—when a girl walked up to me.

Looking as disheveled as I was, she took a seat across from me.

“Is it alright if I sit here?” she asked.

I started to sign, “Sure.” and then I remembered that not everybody understood sign language, so I had to type in “sure.” 

“Thank you! I’m Claire Lee. Also,” she signed the next part, “I can speak this. My mother is deaf.”

It felt wild, meeting someone like this.

“You’re in my Algebra class, right?” she continued.

“Yes,” I signed. 

“I can’t find my friends,” she said. “Then again, I’m not really sure I want to.”

“Why’s that?” I signed.

“Well, there was this guy, Cal Largent. I’ve known him since seventh grade.” Ugh, Cal. I hate that kid. Seeing my expression, she added, “I know, I know. I was part of the OriSpider-Verse team. But I’m not anymore. Before this stuff went down, Cal went behind our backs and took only a few of us on a top secret mission. We had some little ‘reform’ but I don’t think we’ll go anywhere. I have a fresh start here at Wheeler, y’know? I just think that I could kind of distance myself from that. I mean, there was the whole origami symbiote stuff, and dating that creep-o Ezra, it was just all very, very bad at Kirby.”

“Me too.” I signed.

“What’s your name?” She asked. She spoke, I signed. It was easier than typing it all out.

“I’m Aaron. I used to be Taskplaster.”

“Oh… Taskplaster. I remember you.” 

No, please, don’t leave. “Don’t worry, I’ve turned a new leaf. I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore.”

“So I figure you have the Origami Wreck-it-Ralph?” she asked me. I couldn’t laugh, but I felt my face scrunch up like I was going to. I moved my fingers from my chin to my cheeks, twirling my fingers to signify ‘laughter.’ She giggled.

“No, no, I’m not. I’m just wanting to be good. Also, weird question, who were you in the Ori-Spiderverse?” I asked while signing.

“I was Silk. Not like I did much anyways.”

“Dang,” I signed. We talked the whole way, even if it went from silence and hand movements or verbalizing from her end and signing from my side. We clicked as outcasts and misfits of our own groups.

“You know, I’m a good folder. Do you want me to make a new TaskPlaster for you?”

“Oh, yes, that would be cool! Thank you!” I said. She nodded. 

“I think I’ll take up a new role too… How about Silver Label?”

In all of my years of reading comics, these two never interacted. I don’t even know if they were aware of one another. Taskmaster and Silver Sable would make a good team, though.

“Sure. I think that works amazingly.”

 

The Deadliest Game
By Jonathan Zeck, AKA Krease the Hunter

Do good by being bad, huh? Yup. I can make some chaos all right. It’s the simple things, the really easy tips and tricks that can just make a fish jump from a frozen pond. 

Back in the day, I visited a book store and bought this book, I think I was in second grade. The self-help book was called “How to talk to Girls,” and was as simple as one, two, three. You just talk to them! That’s it! And you can be as boisterous, loud, and crazy as you want.

This has not worked since second grade. As the years go by, the want – nay – the need for some sense of comradery is nigh-killing me.

Some nights, when I’m camping outside in the forest, staring up at the stars by my fire, the soft crackling, I’ll look over, hoping someone is there, a special someone, by my side.

Those same nights, I break down and cry. I just wish for something like that.

Mike, if you’re reading this, I know you’re laughing. Shut up.

Recently, I was made an eagle scout. My senior year will start next year, and although all the craziness around my school has been happening, this almost slipped my mind. I’ll admit, all of the skills I feel I need came from it.

I can build a shed, I can sell popcorn and tie knots, I can even wrap gifts during holidays, and I can rock climb. Many summers have been spent at camps to earn badges, and my sash is covered with their intricate designs. But the greatest gift of all I got from it was my charisma. Nothing will stop me from getting my way.

First order of business? Walk into the lunch room. Scout the land for the most attractive girl in the crowd, but make sure it’s not a Kirbian. I’ve met each one, they all know me, and besides, it’s easy to tell: they’ll look confused. No girl from Wheeler looks confused.

My eyes lock on a girl with pinkish hair that is just starting to go blonde again. Swiftly, I approach her. My hand raises to her shoulder, she spins around, her cheeks are red.

“I see that your hair is pink,” I start, “Like a medium rare steak.” My drawl helps with the ‘Medium Rare.’

“Excuse me? Why are you talking to the student body president like this?” Seeing I have no response, she simply raises her eyebrows with a piercing stare. “Go away, sweetie.” I sigh, but my techniques don’t fail me. On to the next one.

And the next one.

And the next one…

It’s getting hard, this game is not easy.

Chaos is hard to do. My truck sits outside, maybe I should go and blast “Sweet Home Alabama?” Maybe this isn’t meant for me.

Being the smoking Krease the Hunter is not an easy job, y’know?

I hear a slight squeal, like a baby pig wanting to be fed. I turn around and catch her starting to trip, a tray of food in her hands.

That sense – the need to help – overcame me. Eagle Scout preparations made me ready for this. I made a mad dash to her and caught her, preventing her from falling into the mashed potatoes that lay scattered on the floor.

“Oh, I’m so sorry… Thank you… Thank you so much.”

What’s this? Why am I doing this? Why does my hand reach into my pocket, pulling out my American flag with Eagles holding guns wallet, and why do I hand her a five dollar bill so she can get herself some lunch again?

“Really? You don’t need to,” she says.

“It’s no issue at all,” I say. I get a glimpse of her. She’s covered in black. Black clothes, really heavy white makeup, dark eyeliner. Goth, through and through.

“I have such bad luck. It’s like I’m a domino of disaster,” she says.

“Well…” Oh, here comes the pickup line, “I guess you hit the jackpot this time.” She giggled, and, taking out a dollar of her own, swiftly wrote something on it with a pen. She placed it in my palm.

“Maybe I have. Thanks, cowboy.” She winked at me before walking off.

I opened the dollar bill and looked at the phone number. Defacing a bill and risking six months of being fined? 

Why, is it possible for a country boy to fall in love with a goth girl?

 

Painting Sessions
By Asher Stevenson 

“I think it’s done,” I said, out of breath. I tossed my can of spray paint to the side. 

What did we do?

Well, to put it mildly, the teachers’ lounge and a bit of its surrounding hallways were painted in enough colors for a rainbow to feel intimidated. 

It had taken us considerable effort to avoid being caught, but we had chosen our school period wisely. No teachers were around, and nobody was in the halls. 

Ian and I had done some of our best work. 

“How much time do we have left?” Ian asked, adding some final splashes of red paint to the halls. 

I checked my watch. “Two minutes. Let’s pack up.”

“Won’t our teachers notice that we weren’t in class this period?” Ian wondered. 

I glanced up as I packed my bag. “Bro, it’s okay if we get caught. That’s the point. We gotta take a stand. For Kirby.”

“Fair enough.”

Suddenly, the bell rang. 

“It hasn’t been two minutes!” I said with alarm. 

“What about ‘it’s okay if we get caught’?” 

“Shut up! Move!” I grabbed my unzipped bag and took off down the hallway, Ian in tow. 

As we came around the corner, I collided into someone. My bag went flying off of my arm and landed, a spray paint can falling out. 

I looked up. It was Aaron. With some girl. 

They were both looking at the can of spray paint. I quickly stuffed it back in my bag.

Ian came around the corner. “We have to go, Ash—” He drifted off as he saw Aaron. “Who are you?” he asked the girl.

Aaron said something in sign language to the girl.

“Claire Lee,” she answered. “And Silver Label. Aaron here tells me you two were part of the Summer Camp Six. What’s going on here?”

“Um…” Ian said, his eyes widening. If Claire and Aaron took two steps forward, they could look down the hallway and see what we did. Aaron stared at me with fury.

“Let’s go,” I said to Ian, turning back.

“Hey!” Claire protested. 

We ran down the hallway, leaving Claire and Aaron to discover what we had done for themselves. 

 

The Grim Hunt
By Johnathan Zeck

I have resulted in doing the easiest way of causing chaos: tripping.

I’ll be in the hallways and I’ll push my leg out, making a student trip, collapse, or slightly leap. The Halls have gotten more crowded, though, so it’s not like it’s doing much.

Doing this, being bad isn’t doing much either. I’m not finding enjoyment in it. In fact, I’m feeling a sense of duty, a need to work on other stuff, to be better than I once was. Maybe it was catching that girl, but there’s something overcoming me. 

I tried flirting with girls in lunch (which I wasn’t feeling anymore), but while I was doing that, I felt a blow to the side. Everyone in the lunchroom fell silent as I looked at Aaron with Taskplaster, and a Girl standing next to him, a puppet with white hair on her finger.

“Silver Label and Taskplaster demand answers. Who sent you to harass these women?” she said. I winced in pain as Aaron punched my gut again.

I rolled over, “I don’t know.” I said. I couldn’t think. I wasn’t going to hit back, I wasn’t going to defend myself.

“You don’t know?!” Silver Label told me, “How can you not know who sent you?” Then, Aaron signed to her something, to which she translated with “Why aren’t you fighting back?”

“You know who, Aaron. Alfredo. Alfred tasked me with doing this.” I said, “And I’m not fighting back because that’s not the right thing to do.”

I keeled over, I was in so much pain. They quickly dashed off, leaving me alone.

When asked what happened, I didn’t say it was Aaron, no one identified them, but I got sent home because of it.

Maybe I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore. Maybe I don’t want to be this anymore. Being Krease is just a bit too much.

 

The Phone Call
By Mike Kasdan

School for the day was finished, and I was leaning against my locker. The hallways were starting to empty out as people made their way home. 

The Wheeler television system turned on. 

Our chaos had been discovered. 

Principal Villanueva sat, staring at the camera. “Good afternoon,” she greeted grimly. “Today, Wheeler faced a number of misdemeanors committed by a student or set of students. We would like to request that anyone with knowledge of these defiling events please stop by my office before returning home. For anyone involved in these acts, this is your only chance to avoid expulsion from the school. Thank you.”

My phone buzzed. It was the SCS group chat.

ALFRED: we did it 

ALFRED: i will go talk to villanueva

I texted quickly.

ME: dude, we could get expelled! we have to go too

ALFRED: fine. you guys can wait outside the office but let me handle this

I put my phone down in horror. It worked. We got Principal Villanueva’s attention.

I felt stupid. Now we were all going to get in trouble, and I suddenly doubted we had made any difference. The plan had made so much sense when Alfred pitched it initially. Now… it felt like a suicide mission.

My phone buzzed again. I looked at it, annoyed. To my surprise, it wasn’t Alfred.

DUNCAN: Hey. Where are you?

My chest tightened. 

ME: i cant make it tonight man

ME: something came up

ME: im sorry

DUNCAN: Oh. Okay

I set my phone down again in one gut wrenching motion. I wasn’t sure I could even write a sad poem to feel better. 

I felt defeated. And we had just won.

 

Mysteri Solved?
By Aaron Martin

Claire met me outside the school. “I couldn’t find Alfred anywhere,” she said, panting. “I scanned everyone coming out of the doors.”

School had just ended, and I had gotten outside early with Claire. Having not been able to find Alfred that day, we had hoped to get to him on his way outside. No luck.

“Let’s head home,” I signed to Claire. “He’ll be back tomorrow.” 

“Okay.”

It hadn’t been a bad day. We had been able to capture Jonathan Zeck in the act, and we knew that Alfred was behind all of this. Personally, I was feeling pretty great.

I was about to sign farewell when my phone vibrated. 

MIKE: hey

MIKE: i need to talk to you

“What is it?” Claire asked, noticing my expression. I didn’t respond.

AARON: Mike, what the heck? I thought you all blocked my number after you kicked me from the team

No response. I forged on.

AARON: “Talk” to me? Are you kidding me? After everything? After ditching me? I’m never talking to you guys again. And guess what? I know that Alfred’s got you messing up the school. And I’m going to catch you guys and turn you in. I’m done with this SCS stuff

AARON: And I’ve got help. People I can trust, unlike you. I wanted to trust you. I formed the team because I wanted friends, okay? That’s the big reveal. I didn’t want power or chaos. I just wanted friends. I guess that was just too much to ask for

AARON: I’m done here, and I’m blocking your number

Suddenly…

MIKE: Aaron, im sorry.

I stared at my phone. I could feel Claire watching my expression.

AARON: What

MIKE: im sorry. for everything. 

MIKE: and thats actually why im texting you. all of this stuff… it was us. and alfreds meeting the principal rn. if you can get here in 5 minutes you can stop him

MIKE: consider it an apology for ditching you for him. i dont want to do this. we just wanted kirby back

I looked up from my phone.

“Aaron, what’s going on?” Claire asked slowly. 

“Grab Silver Label,” I signed. “I know where Alfred is.”

 

Krease’s Last Hunt
By Jonathan Zeck

I looked closely at the text message. Alfred did it?! He wanted us to wait outside of the principal’s office ASAP?! Oh no. We did it.

I started to run down the hallway as fast as a deer in the woods.

The crew was standing around, for a moment, they all looked alien to me. I haven’t talked to these guys, let alone look at them.

“Howdy, y’all,” I said. They all turned and looked at me. Ian and Asher stood with their backs against the walls, looking tired from all the stuff they had been doing, but Asher greeted me with a smile anyway. 

“Where’s Fred?” I asked. Mike nodded his head back to the door to the principal’s office. He didn’t say anything else.

“So, Jonathan, what did you do the past week?” Asher asked me.

“I met a girl. I’m kind of wanting to see where it goes. How about you, Asher?” 

“We did the spray paint stuff,” Asher said, indicating him and Ian.

“How about you, Mike?” I asked.

Mike’s head was down. “Ah, I caused havoc in the library and made the presentation that Alfred is doing right now,” he said dejectedly. “I think I made a few friends.”

Ian and Asher said nothing.

We heard the slight drum beat come from the room.

Mike’s head picked up with a moment of excitement. “Oh my gosh, it worked,” he said. “I hoped he wouldn’t notice! He’s starting the presentation!” 

Standing around with these people, I felt out of the loop, as though they were all different, I was no longer with them. I’m an Eagle Scout, I have chances, I have stuff I want to see happen.

I reached into my pocket, turned away from them, and stared at Krease.

And then I tore him.

They heard the ripping, and they all perked at me. I looked back, but they kept staring, past me.

“Summer Camp Six, Halt!” the Silver Label exclaimed, Aaron following in suit.

“We’re halted, Claire,” Asher said. “What are you doing here?”

“Mike called us,” Claire said. Aaron looked at Mike with… gratitude? What was that about?

“Well, you’re too late.” Asher pointed to the principal’s office. “Big Guy Alfredo is talking up a storm with the principals as we speak. We’re going to bring back Kirby.”

“Oh, what?” she said. “You-you’re doing something good?”

“Yeah, we wanted to do good by being bad,” Ian told her. I wanted to mention that some of us realized we could do good by being good too. She and Aaron looked at one another.

“Hey, weren’t you Origami Silk?” Mike asked Claire. She looked back at us.

“Yeah. But now I’m Silver Label, and I’m working with Aaron.” She showed off her puppet. We all nodded in approval.

“Well, mind if we stay with you guys?” she asked us. I shrugged and took my place against the wall.

Then, Alfred walked out.

 

What Happened?
By Aaron Martin

Claire asked that question, which was only met with a glare, and then a sudden smirk.

“Aaron, I’m glad you could meet us here.” Alfred told me.

I signed “It took us forever to find you.” Claire translated.

“What happened to your cousin, the Black Ant-Fold?” Alfred asked.

“That doesn’t matter, what did you do in there?! Silver Label and Taskplaster demand an answer.” She exclaimed. Sometimes, it was hard dealing with Claire. She was taking on this controlling leadership position that I don’t think she ever knew in Cal’s group.

“Well, if you two were trying to be the good guys, you failed.” Alfred told us, “because we were the ones… er…” he stumbled over his words, trying to think of what to say, “to be the… good guys?”

“Wait- did we get the school back? Did we bring back Kirby? Did we win?” Mike asked Alfred. Alfred took out his octopleat puppet, freshly designed, nice looking.

“All I’m going to say is that… We don’t need these anymore.”

He tore the puppet up in front of us. Then he tossed it into the garbage, and walked away.

Jonathan broke out laughing, “Can you believe this? I mean, I guessed it, but-”

“No… more… origami?” Asher was stunned, “This is insane. Dumpster diving will be pointless for a week.”

I was shocked. I wanted to walk into the principal’s office and cause a storm, a big fit.

Ian turned to Alfred, “You betrayed us! You are the worst prykladom golova Kirby ever had.”

“I don’t even know what that means!” Alfred yelled as he picked up his pace.

Mike put his hands in his pockets, and started leaving.

“Mike, where are you going?” Asher asked.

“I’m going to hang out in the library. Bye guys.”

“That’s it then, that’s all it was for?” Claire signed to me.

“I guess. Dang.” Being a hero is hard, but not having something to fight for is even worse. They win. 

The Presentation

By Alfred Russo

Let me tell you how it happened.

I had expected Principal Villanueva to be in a furious state. Instead, I had opened her office door to find her looking exhausted. Principal Ainsley, who had been the principal at Kirby, sat down next to her. 

“Hi, Alfred. Looks like we ended up meeting anyway,” Principal Villanueva said grimly. “I’m assuming that everything that happened today is because of you, then?”

“I’m sorry, Principal Villanueva. My team got out of hand.”

“Team?”

“The Summer Camp Six.”

Ainsley sat up straighter, a hint of anger in his eyes. “I was not under the impression that the group had stayed intact after interrupting Kirby’s school play.”

“I can explain.” I looked to Principal Villanueva. “Please, ma’am.”

Her eyes softened, and she sighed. “Very well. Go ahead.”

“I, um, have a presentation,” I said, taking the USB drive I had gotten from Mike out of my pocket. With Mike being our presentation and visual effects expert, I had asked him to make a supplementary slideshow specifically for the meeting. 

Mike’s presentation loaded up on Villanueva’s computer. I felt a rush of excitement. I was able to get this opportunity through the chaos of my peers.

“I hope you have something to say about your friends, Mr. Russo.”

“Of course I do, Ms. Villanueva. And Mr. Ainsley, I’m glad you could join us.”

“Listen, me and Ms. Villanueva work together everyday. This place will be remodeled next year to fit us all. I’ll be a counsellor here, so I’ll be helping everyone get through the changes.” Mr. Ainsley told me.

I paused, cracked a smile and said, “That just sounds like principaling with extra steps.” Villanueva let out a laugh.

“I don’t know why you warned me about a comedian, Alden,” she told him. “He made a presentation and everything. A TED talk jokester?”

“He interrupted our production of Fiddler on the Roof,” he stated. She was deadpan, and he was a bit whiny.

“Okay, well, that’s not the worst thing to happen to Kirby in recent memory, now is it?” She laughed at this. I coughed to cover up the laugh that was forming in my gut. Principal Ainsley sighed.

“Yeah, it’s not.”

“Anyways, get this started.” I never went through the powerpoint slides in a slideshow presentation, I prepared what I had to say for each slide individually, so, I didn’t expect it to start off with the beginning melody of “Thunderstruck” by AC/DC with a slide that had a picture of all of us together with “The Summer Camp Six is HERE!” 

Ainsley smiled, “I like where this is going.”

“Uh, erm, thank you.” I said, “let’s – let’s just begin.”

Cut to the next slide, the title reading “Background!” with four bullet points: 1.) we’re bad 2.) we’re cool, 3.) We booted out our first leader 4.) We strike out on our own to do villany.

“Yeah, so basically we all met at Camp Kirby-”

“You kids call Camp Wawanawa ‘Camp Kirby?” Ainsley interrupted.

“Yes sir, that name is quite preposterous, almost insulting, really. Camp Kirby gets the job and the point across.”

“I see. Continue.”

“Anyways, After Camp Kirby, our team really didn’t do much together until the Fiddler on the Roof introduction, in which I usurped control from the mute student Aaron.” 

“Usurped. Nice Freshman year vocabulary word, Alfredo.” Ainsley said, smiling, “Who was your teacher?”

“It was Mr. Buffett.” I told them. Ainsley nodded and looked at Villanueva.

“Mr. Buffett was the best English teacher we had. Kids from Kirby had a superior vocabulary.” Villanueva rolled her eyes.

“But, after T.H.A.N.O.S., I noticed something: we were divided for the first time ever.”

“Our records show that students such as Mike Kasdan would cause issues on his own.”

“Well, we were a team, even if they sometimes were chaotic. Speaking of, they’ve been causing havoc here, and making Wheeler a living disaster pit.”

“Which is why we brought you here.” Villanueva told me.

“There’s an obvious reason to this.” I said.

“Well, tell us, I’ve had a roast in a crockpot at home all day waiting for me.” Ainsley mentioned. Villanueva shot him a look, “What? You can come try it too. It’s not like being a Principal is a hard job to have.”

Villanueva rolled her eyes. “Anyways, Alfred, continue.”

Next slide: Clark Largent’s speech.

“Oh, we’ve heard that.” Ainsley said. 

“But you missed this really important part. Clark Largent said ‘This origami stuff got way out of hand.’ Do you two agree?”

They looked at eachother. Then back at me.

“Continue…” Ainsley told me.

“Well, think about it: Ever since the 1940s, Wheeler and Kirby were at war, and as the face of it was origami. Origami puppets. It’s high time we got rid of them, only bringing a greater unity that Yang talked about in his speech. That’s why I suggest in the next year, a full ban on origami is put into place.”

They were stunned. Then, they looked at eachother, and then back at me. Almost comically, they then moved to the corner of the room, and a whispering match happened.

I caught “It’s tradition!” and “That’s how we separate the good from the bad.” by Ainsley.

Then, with reluctance, Principal Villanueva turned to me with a frown.

“Okay, Alfred, you make a good case.” She paused. “There will be no more finger puppets in the next school year. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” My part time job at Chik-Fil-A was showing itself. Dang it. Shoot.

“You can head out now, we’ll make a statement for next year.” Villanueva stood up and took my hand, shaking it, “Thanks for bringing this to our attention.” 

Ainsley shook my hand as well.

I made my way out with pride, did the little tear of my Octopleat, and walked out.

I win.

 

Reflection
By Jonathan Zeck

Man, what a day. 

I needed to take this, this, ugh! What’s the word?! 

This pressure. I needed to get this pressure off of me. After I was sent home, I got into my truck and drove to the woods to go hunting.

I sat in my car, windows down, toothpick in my mouth and a John Deere hat on.

My family was originally from Tennessee. We had a great big farm, lots of fertile land, and plenty of woodland to go hunting in. I remember my dad teaching me how to drive when I was eleven, driving through the back ways late at night. Up north, people call it the “Scenic Route,” but, I’ll tell you what, every route down there is scenic. It’s nothing like here. 

But, I find my own spot in these woodlands, and I make a scenic route out of it.

I  took my bow and arrow. There was nothing better than hunting with what my ancestors used.

I keep the toothpick between my teeth, and I put on my camouflage and walk into the bushes.

It’s hard to find deer, it’s hard to find really anything worth attacking, so I sit here, my bow in my hands, and I like to think.

And boy, do I think. I think long and hard.

Fred’s true intentions isn’t what I think it is, is it?

I mean, getting Kirby back? This early in the game? The reaction from the Kirby Moms’ facebook group is already harsh enough, but it’s not so simple. Mom is a part of that, she’s always talking about it. Heck, we’ve had fencing put up around it, no one can really access the school.

And now origami was banned.

This was a stupid, nigh-impossible idea. Honestly, some points were made.

I think what he’s doing is trying to get us expelled. A nail in the coffin, the greatest plan of all.

Yep.

I need to talk to someone about this.

I looked at the dollar bill with her number on it. I’m not one for texting, so I dialed her number.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

“Hello?” She asked. Her speech was monotone, accentless.

“Hey, this is John, the kid that rescued you from the falling lunch tray.”

“Oh, John!” She perked up now, “I don’t think I told you my name, I’m Betty.” 

“Well, Betty, I like that name.” She slightly giggled at that, “Betty and John, like a couple out of a movie musical.” 

“Yes, I agree.” 

We started to talk, she asked me what I was doing, I told her I was in a bush, waiting to shoot a deer or something with an arrow. She went “Heavy.” and explained how she was a vegetarian. My troop had us do a ‘vegetarianism for a month’ thing, which was really easy. I liked it. I could probably go back.

 A match was struck on our heels, and a flame ignited between us. I told her everything on that phone call, how I was, how I felt, and she told me that I was a “Good guy.”

Maybe I am.

Maybe I can be better.

 

A New Chapter
By Mike Kasdan

“Hey!” I greeted, peeking past the door.

Duncan looked up at me from his book. “Hey, Mike! Good to see you.”

It was a week since we had gotten the word from Alfred that origami would be banned next year. I had left the Summer Camp Six without much explanation. I heard that Jonathan had done the same. 

Claire and Aaron turned in Asher and Ian for defiling school property. They both were required to volunteer for ten hours, which was pretty much a dream scenario for Asher. He promptly volunteered to clean up trash around the school. Ian was less lucky and had to help repaint the teachers’ lounge. From what I heard, he was feeling pretty bitter toward Alfred.

And Alfred? Well, he was pretty smug. He seemed to have gotten what he wanted. The origami ban was in place. 

At least the Summer Camp Six was done. Our claim to power was solidified. Personally, I still got to make my peace with Aaron, so my mind was clear. That left more time for focusing on the good things. 

Like after school two-man plays, complete with professional visual effects from yours truly.

“What’s the play for the day?” I asked, sliding into my seat. 

Duncan set the book down in front of me. “Sense and Sensibility.”

“A masterpiece.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

I glanced at the cast list at the start of the book. “I call dibs on Marianne Dashwood.”

“Reverse card.”

“Double reverse.”

Duncan laughed. “Fine.”

I was silent for a moment. 

Duncan studied me carefully. “You good, man?”

I smiled. “Sorry, yeah, it’s just… feels good to be at Wheeler. I’m excited for next year.”

Duncan’s smile faded. “It’s gonna be pretty different. There’s gonna be a lot of new students, adjustments, the origami ban—”

“Did I ever tell you I had the Mysterigami puppet?” 

“I had Doctorigami Strange, dude.”

“You’re kidding.”

 

A Statement for the Next School Year

Composed by the Co-Principals

After the recent closure of Kirby High, we at Wheeler Academy have decided to make another momentous change: The banning of origami ON CAMPUS. Anybody caught with a puppet will receive detention, and, eventually, In School Suspension. This was brought to our attention by a concerned student that made points that we, as Co-Principals, thought were good points to be made.

Wheeler prides itself on academic excellence, not puppetry and theatrics. Thank you for complying with this, and the many other changes, to come in the next school year.

-Principal Villanueva and Dr. Ainsley

 

The Herald Arrives
By Clark Largent; AKA formerly Iron Fold

I may have denounced the super-origami life in a very public fashion, but I’d be lying if I didn’t miss it. Also, I didn’t really know how to do life at Wheeler. And, I really, really missed Emily.
As per the new usual, I was lying on my bed, scrolling through Twitter or texting complaints to Andy, when I heard the doorbell downstairs. Also per usual, from across the hall Cal shouted “I GOT IT!” and pounded down the stairs to fling the door open. A very common occurrence.
A moment later, though, Cal shouted back up the stairs “Clark, it’s for you!” I groaned and rolled off the bed, put my shoes on and went to the door.
Standing in the door was a guy I’d never seen before. He had darker skin and was completely bald, but had bushy eyebrows and had a bit of a mustache and beard. I could tell he was still younger, though. He looked just a bit older than me.
“You must be Clark Largent!” he said, immediately. He held out his hand and I shook it.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I said. “And you are?”
“Sandesh Dugal,” the bald guy said, smiling. “But you can call me Sandy. I’m a senior at Claremont High School in Cortland.”
“That’s…interesting,” I said, skeptically. “I’m not taking any flyers, though.”
Sandy laughed. “I’m not here to give you flyers.”
“Oh, good.”
“I’m here to get you to join Claremont.”
I raised my eyebrow. “That’s what flyers do.”
“You’re the origami Iron Man of Kirby High School, right?”
With my eyebrow still raised, I crossed my arms. “Iron Fold. And I was.”
“Well, Clark, we need your help. We’ve got a villain on our hands at Claremont. His name is Declan Parrish, and he’s a real pain. I don’t think our team can stop him, so that’s why I’ve come to you.”
“Wait a second. Team?”
Sandy sighed. “Yes, we have a team. The Origami X-Men.”
“Origami X-Men…why not X-Pen?”
“You give your origami puns?”
“You don’t?”
“But how do you know who you’re talking about?”
“We just do. Doesn’t it get old saying ‘origami’ everytime you want to talk about a puppet?” I noticed he had a puppet in his shirt pocket. It shimmered a bit. “And what do you call him, exactly?”
Sandy looked at his pocket. “Oh, you mean Origami Silver Surfer. I mean- wait, that’s not the point.” Sandy paused, collecting his thoughts. “The Origami X-Men need your help, Clark. You defeated your own villain, the T.H.A.N.O.S. team, and now we need your help to defeat Declan Parrish.” I opened my mouth to question this, before he cut me off again. “Yes, I know about T.H.A.N.O.S. Tilly Waterson’s website is very entertaining.”
I wasn’t going for it. “I’m not going to Claremont to get involved in more crap like this. I’m done.”
“Clark, please. Declan is just getting worse. It doesn’t help that his ex-girlfriend just showed up again. She’s from Kirby High School! I think you’d know her.”
I rolled my eyes. “Who is she?”
“She’s the Origami Emma Frost. Her name is Emily Madison.”
I won’t even pretend that he didn’t have me after that. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and clicked on my uncle’s number. “Hey, Randy? Yeah, hey, what’s up. Could I stay with you for awhile?”

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