Today was the first day of school. A new school, called Cypress High. People say that's because it's surrounded by cypress trees.

Fine by me.

I had my first class in English 11. Apparently we would be assigned to our seats.

The teacher ended up putting me next to a girl (Sammy is female in this story) with golden blond hair and one silvery gold eye. The other half of her face was covered by her hair, making for an interesting look. On the other side, I sat next to a white haired boy with pale, pale eyes. He had a sarcastic smile on his face, like he knew much more than he did.

Already bored with the class, I pulled my toaster out of my backpack, plugged it into the conveniently placed outlet behind me, and put some 9 grain bread in. 

As soon as I started making the toast, the girl whipped her head around to face me.

"Is that bread?" she asks.

I decide to be sarcastic. "No, it's Morgan Freeman."

She gives a literal half smile. "That is bread, isn't it."

"I told you, it's Morgan Freeman."

The pale eyed boy tapped my shoulder.

"What?" I ask, annoyed.

"Was just gonna ask if I could have some bread, but 'parently, it's Morgan Freeman." His voice was deep, smooth, clipped, and accented with a classic New York accent. Nothing like the girl's. No, her voice was a melody, soft and beautiful.

"Of course it's bread." I snap back.

"Do you have other kinds...?" He trails off as I pull a dozen more loaves out of my backpack. 

"Take your pick."

He just stares at me. "How..."

"Don't ask, just pick."

Finally he selects sourdough.

A note lands on my desk. Written in blockish, freakishly straight handwriting with all circles becoming triangles, 

Hi! I know you have lots of bread, so can I have some? Thank you!

I write back in my messy smudged handwriting,

What kind?

Uh...do you have three seed? 

I have more bread than a French bakery.

And it was the truth. I carried around way too much bread.

I hand the girl's toast to her and the sourdough toast to the boy, and waited for the three seed bread to finish toasting.

"Thanks, man." the boy says. "I'm Sans, by the way. Sans Vite."

I arch an eyebrow. "'Without Life'?"

"What's your name?" Sans completely avoided my question.

"Springtrap. Springtrap Afton."

"Legal."

"Only if you tell me your real name."

"Nah, You'd never believe me."

"Oh yeah? Because my name is Springtrap!"

"Fine. My real, legal name is Experiment 5A-N5."

I stop laughing. Experiment?

"It's where my name comes from. I was a genetic experiment designed to be better. Stronger, more powerful, pain resistant. Most of it worked. I can't feel pain. But it made me weaker. What would be a bruise for you would be a death blow for me. Not like I was designed to live long."

The girl chokes on her bread.

"You okay?" I ask her.

"It's just that I had been named Symphony when I was born, but then my mom died and I was raised first by cats, then by wolves. The cats named me Crescentsong, and the wolves named me Sammy."

The boy sitting next to Sammy, a neon yellow haired boy with equally yellow eyes and a sharp smile chimed in, "I was named Bill after the guy who discovered Uranus!" His style of speaking was similar to how he wrote, loud and straight to the point.

"I was named Mapleshade because my parents have no chill" another girl sitting on the other side of Sans, a redhead (more orange, though) with striking amber eyes added.

I was surprised no fear shone in their eyes. I was born scary. I had giant one feet tall rabbit ears with large metal feet and round silver eyes. It isn't pretty or anything. If anything, it was downright frightening. I had black scleras with pale silver irises and white pupils. Worse of all, I was born with a secondary breathing hole in the back of my neck that connected directly to my esophagus and trachea. It wasn't too big; just big enough for a small tarantula to live in(And one did; my pet spider Mr. Leggy). And on top of that, I was crazy tall, even without the ears. Exactly seven feet with the ears. Clearly, I was a scary monster. 

So why did they talk to me?

All five of us kept chatting on throughout class, eating toast and reciting memes, basically not paying attention.

I ended up walking home from school with them, with their parting words to me being "See ya later, tweaker!" 

They gave me a nickname! I shouldn't really be that happy, because they christened me Tweaker, but still.

I step into my room, my confusing but fun day coming to a close.