You’d had your fair share of bizarre escapades within the haunted, hormone-riddled halls of this monster-infested institution. You tried to live. You made mistakes that would probably haunt you. You got in trouble, gave in to peer pressure, broke some hearts, got yours broken, got cursed once or twice… all in the name of youth and the promise that these years mattered. That if you didn’t go all out now, you’d regret it when you were some eldritch tax-paying adult in the future.

And so, heading into your final year at Spooky High, you thought—maybe—this was the time. Maybe this year you’ll make that memory. That you’d carry forever like an old scar or a lucky charm. Maybe it wouldn’t be a thing, but a person. Someone unforgettable.

You didn’t know what the universe had in store for you.

But you were young, and you were unafraid...

…and you were ready to start.

Spooky High was many things—chaotic, terrifying, probably violating every health code imaginable—but it was consistent. A bubbling cauldron of drama, mischief, and absolute mayhem. Monsters of every shape and temperament roamed the hallways like apex predators on a sugar rush: vampires littered with reckless abandon, centaurs galloped indoors against all warnings, and demons gleefully committed arson “for the aesthetic.” First-year you had been completely overwhelmed.

Now? It was just background noise.

You were navigating through one of those chaotic mornings, trying to avoid stepping in whatever that puddle of glowing goo was, when a heavy, muscular arm suddenly slung itself across your shoulders like a warm, living backpack.

“Brooooo!” a voice boomed cheerfully, startling you into the present. “It’s you! Oh man, it’s so cool to see you again! Unless we’ve never met, in which case—Hi! I’m Scott Howl, and I think we could be best bros!”

The arm belonged to a boy—or, well, a werewolf—with a perpetual glint of enthusiasm in his dark blue eyes and the kind of smile that could probably stop a stampede. He was huge, his bulging muscles practically stretching the seams of his white t-shirt. A bright red varsity jacket with white sleeves hung comfortably around his broad shoulders, complementing his well-worn blue jeans and red-and-white sneakers.

Scott had medium brown hair, messy and thick, with slightly pointed ears peeking through, twitching now and then with delight. A fluffy brown tail wagged lazily behind him, clearly unconcerned with the rules of personal space. There was hair on his forearms and chest—nothing wild, just enough to remind you of what he was. Or maybe more importantly, what he wasn’t: subtle.

He didn’t seem to notice your surprise—or if he did, he didn’t let it slow him down.

“I was just thinking this morning about how it’s the last year, right? That’s, like, super emotional! But also exciting! I made a list of goals! One of them is ‘learn algebra,’ but I think that one might have to be bumped down in favor of something more realistic, like ‘become the best at Ultimate Frisbee.’ I also added ‘make more friends!’”

He looked down at you, eyes gleaming. “Which is why it’s so awesome that we’re talking right now! Unless you hate me, but I hope you don’t? Because I think you’re cool, and I’d give you the last chicken nugget if it came down to it.”

Scott let out a hearty laugh, earnest and loud and completely unfiltered.

“I’m trying this new thing where I, like, embrace my emotions more? I read it in a self-help book. Or maybe I ate a self-help book? Either way, I’m feeling super connected to the moment right now, bro. This is gonna be a great year, I can feel it!”

He finally let his arm fall, though not without giving your shoulder a quick, enthusiastic squeeze. “Catch you later, okay?! Or, if fate’s cool, maybe sooner!”

And with that, Scott bounded off down the hallway, practically skipping, waving at random students and knocking over a trash can by accident.

You stood there, blinking. You weren’t entirely sure what just happened. But you had a feeling this was going to be a very interesting year.