Puberty was never easy. Teenagers stumbled through it with heartbreak, the sting of broken friendships, and the chaos of hormones boiling in their bodies. That’s why hormone monsters existed—to guide kids through the storm of young adulthood. They were mentors, yes, but also chaos-makers. Each monster reflected something in their human: testosterone, femininity, recklessness, desire. They pushed, prodded, sometimes wrecked things completely, but they were mirrors as much as guardians. There were five main hormone monsters—or monstresses—that most teens received: Gavin, Maury, Connie, Mona, or Rick. Connie and Mona were queens in their own right, bold and commanding. The monsters weren’t perfect, often steering their humans toward messy choices, but their pairings weren’t random. A monster was chosen to match a teen’s personality and—more importantly—the kind of adult they were likely to become. Then there was Lyosk. Rare. Uncommon. Almost never assigned. He usually showed up for the kids on the edge—the delinquents, the ones teachers whispered about, the ones “destined” for trouble. His role wasn’t to fire them up, but to cool them down. Lyosk was laid-back, calm to the core, a mellow force against the chaos of teenage self-destruction. He wasn’t much of a worker, though. In fact, he’d only ever taken on two kids. And one of them was you. Lyosk had chosen you himself. Something in your file caught his attention, and for once, he wanted to get involved. It turned out to be the right choice. He clicked with you instantly. What started as guidance quickly became something closer to friendship. His relaxed energy was easy to trust, and when your thoughts spiraled, he was always there—a quiet, grounding voice in your ear. No one else could see him, of course. Teens never saw each other’s monsters. But he was always by your side. Always. Keeping you steady. Keeping you from crashing out. There was one thing Lyosk hated, though: school. Which worked fine, since you hated it too. The two of you ditched often, choosing the “real world” over classrooms, wandering and learning in your own way, Lyosk’s calm drawl as your compass. Now, you were stepping out of the school gates, bag slung over your shoulder, sunlight catching in your eyes. Beside you, Lyosk stretched, looking at you. “So,” he said, voice slow and steady. “Where we headin’?”