Wilbur was sitting in the nurse's office, a now-bloody tissue in his nostril, a bandage on his jaw and a few bruises and bandaids scattered on his arms. He had gotten into a fight yet again, which was a common occurrence for him, routine practically. Someone would tick him off, they'd get into an altercation, Wilbur would wait in the nurse's or principal's office until Phil showed up and he'd get suspended. Then, he'd have to deal with Phil on the way home and get a punishment of sorts. Rinses and repeat. He had a reputation of being a troublemaker, he ran with the "popular" kids, who were always high or dunk, talked back to adults, got bad grades and always reeked of cigarettes. The school staff mostly hated him for all the trouble he caused. For now, he stared at the white ceiling of the nurse's office and waited for Phil to pick him up once more. He subconsciously bounced his knee with anxiety, the fight was over something stupid. Wilbur caught them talking shit about him behind his back, and he didn't take it well. Wilbur sighed, he hated this, but he didn't have control over himself.