Chapter Text
The first day of sophomore year had just begun at Inanimate High. Freshman year had been… interesting, to say the least.
They weren’t kidding when they said high school ruined relationships and turned life into a never-ending rollercoaster of drama. One wrong glance and you’d start a rivalry. One text to the wrong person and your entire week was ruined. Rumors moved faster than the announcements, and cliques? Forget about it.
So where do you even begin?
Well, OJ. Class president of the sophomore class. Neat, organized, polite, always had a pen on him. Basically, a model student… unless you asked Firey.
OJ had beat Firey in the class president election last year. And Firey? Had not moved on.
[ FLASHBACK ]
“And the winner of your freshman, and the rest of your high-school years president is…”
OJ stood still, heart racing, as MePhone4 read from the results sheet. Firey was right beside him, smirking like he’d already won.
“…OJ!”
A cheer went up, mostly from Paintbrush and Paper, who clapped way too loud, and OJ blinked in disbelief. He didn’t expect to win.
He just wanted to put “leadership experience” on his resume.
Firey didn’t move.
“Wait—what?”
MePhone4 nodded. “It was close. You’ll get ’em next time, Firey!”
Firey laughed. Once. Loud. “You’re telling me he won? Are you kidding? I had a campaign manager and posters in three languages!”
OJ stepped back slightly.
“Cool,” Firey muttered, already storming off. “Can’t wait to see how perfect little OJ handles it when things actually get hard.”
[ END FLASHBACK ]
Ever since then, it was war.
No one else seemed to notice, Firey didn’t make it obvious, but OJ knew. The tension was real. Firey glared at him across classrooms. Muttered things under his breath.
Took the last spot in the lunch line if he saw OJ behind him. The smallest stuff. Constant.
But OJ had bigger things to focus on. Like keeping the student council from falling apart, juggling three honors classes, and, well, okay, maybe figuring out how to talk to Paper without sounding like a malfunctioning calculator. But that was a problem for future OJ.
High school meant groups were always forming, and Inanimate High was no different.
First, there was Iance… yes, that was actually what they called themselves. Pencil, Match, Fanny, Ruby, Bubble, Lightning, and Teddy. Bubble always looked like she wanted to disappear. Teddy was complicated. The rest? They ran on drama, power, and group selfies that never turned out as cute as they thought.
Salt and Pepper got invited to join once, but passed. They weren’t that kind of mean. They were the hot, chaotic kind. Makeup-obsessed, always in someone’s business, talked during every class but still somehow passed their tests. No one really understood them, but everyone… actually not everybody. Nobody really liked them.
Then there were the “weird” kids: Paintbrush, Lightbulb, Fan, and Test Tube. Which really just meant they had actual personalities and didn’t pretend to be someone they weren’t. Fan and Test Tube were always working on some science thing together. Paintbrush kept getting in trouble for “disrupting class,” which usually meant calling out a teacher’s mistake. Lightbulb just… existed on her own wavelength.
Marshmallow floated between them sometimes. She wasn’t always around, after Bow passed away, she got quieter, more distant. But she still made time for her old friends when she could. Just… not as often anymore.
And then there was Nickel. No clique could claim him. He was just there. Friends with basically everyone except the Iance girls (he called them “a walking headache”), and somehow always involved in drama without ever being blamed for it.
There were plenty of other students too, all with their own quirks, side quests, and social battles. But if there was one thing everyone agreed on?
Mr. Cobs sucked.
No one knew how the guy got hired. He was strict, soulless, and had a personal vendetta against fun. He banned energy drinks, rubber balls, glitter, and balloons last semester. Balloons. “Too distracting,” he’d said.
In fact, he actually expelled Balloon from the school for the same reason, despite the fact that hea always stayed in line and never disrupted anything.
But luckily, the school’s teachers balanced him out, kind of. There was 2, who always made lectures weirdly relaxing. 4, who screamed but in a lovable way. X, who maybe didn’t know what was going on but still tried their best. Springy, the ex-drama teacher who was fired by Cobs. MePhone4, the cold but competent one. MePad, the therapist who actually let you talk. And even the janitor, Toilet, who somehow knew every secret in the school.
It was only the first week back, and things were already chaotic. Schedules were messed up, people were still switching electives, and the cafeteria ran out of chocolate milk on day two.
But none of that compared to what was coming.
Something was about to shake Inaninate High up again.
They just didn’t know it yet.
———
Lunch time at Inanimate High was always the loudest, messiest, most chaotic part of the day.
But this lunch felt… different.
It started when OJ spotted someone posting something on the bulletin board near the entrance of the cafeteria.
“Hey, Paper?”
Paper glanced up from munching his grapes. “Hm?”
“The bulletin board’s never used. But someone’s putting up a poster right now. Should we check it out?”
Paper turned to look, brows furrowing. “Oh yeah, that’s… weird. Let’s go.”
The two of them wove through the crowd, ignoring the hum of voices and the clatter of trays. When they reached the board, they both paused, reading the bold text on the freshly stapled paper.
“Have you ever wanted to be in a musical?” OJ read aloud.
“Well now’s your chance!” Paper chimed in. “Sign up for SHREK: The Musical at Inanimate High! This is your moment to be a star!”
Paper’s whole face lit up.
He remembered all the times he’d caught OJ humming while organizing council papers, or softly singing in the back of the library while doing math homework. He could really sing. And Paper knew it.
“OJ,” he said, already bouncing, “you have to sign up.”
“I don’t know,” OJ muttered. “Our school did say they weren’t doing any more musicals after—”
“Come on. Please?” Paper grabbed his sleeve gently. “You’re so talented. Don’t hide it from the world.”
That got a blush out of OJ. Compliments were one thing. Compliments from Paper? Yeah. Whole different story.
OJ hesitated for a second longer… then smiled, just barely. “Okay. For you.”
But before he could even reach for the pen on the sign-up sheet—
“Move.”
Firey stepped in between them, snatched the pen, and scribbled his name in big, sharp letters at the top of the list.
He didn’t even glance at OJ. Just said, loud enough for anyone nearby to hear:
“Yeah, you might’ve gotten class president, OJ… but you’re not getting the lead.”
He capped the pen with a snap, smirked, and walked away without another word.
OJ blinked. “What—?”
Paper groaned. “Oh no.”
And just like that?
The drama had begun.
———
Around the cafeteria, heads turned.
Iance, well, Pencil, was the first to notice.
“Did Firey just sign up for the school musical?” she asked, wrinkling her nose like she’d just smelled expired lip gloss. “That’s so desperate.”
“I think OJ’s signing up too,” Match whispered, leaning in with wide eyes. “Didn’t he win, like, president or something last year? Now he wants to be Shrek? What a downgrade.”
Fanny slammed her tray down like it had personally offended her. “UGH! I hate musicals! With their fake smiles and random singing in the middle of the hallway. It’s gross.”
Bubble blinked. “Um… I think it sounds kinda fun…” she said quietly, but no one really heard her.
Ruby popped a strawberry into her mouth.
“Should we audition?” she asked, like it was the most casual thing in the world. “Just to, like, dominate the stage and humiliate everyone else?”
Pencil smirked. “Honestly? We’d be icons.”
Teddy didn’t say a word.
She kept her eyes fixed on the sign-up sheet across the room, her fingers tightening around her smoothie straw. But she said nothing.
———
A few tables away, the “weird kids” were already spiraling.
Paintbrush slapped their fork down with a loud clank. “They’re doing a musical?! No one told me. I literally checked the theater schedule yesterday…this wasn’t there.”
Lightbulb, mid-bite of her mashed potatoes, gasped. “Shrek?! I love that musical! Especially the scenes where they're in the forest with sticks. I'm auditioning.”
Fan, sitting across from them, squinted at the poster from a distance. “Huh. Seems interesting. Maybe I'll just be on the tech crew, though. I've never been much of a singer.”
Test Tube turned to face Fan with an idea. “Why not ask to be the stage manager? That could be fun!”
Paintbrush chimed in. “She's right. It could be fun! And you could learn how things work behind the scenes!”
Fan ran a hand through his hair, muttering. “I guess. It's a big responsibility though…”
Lightbulb threw a carrot stick at him. “Relax, nerd. You can do it. I believe in you.”
“No, you don’t!” Test Tube added, “You can do it as long as you can also help me with my science fair project. I’m not letting Poppy win again.”
Poppy had always beaten Test Tube during the science fair, whether it was a baking soda volcano, a colony of ants, or even last year when Poppy created a sentient AI. It was enough to make Test Tube’s blood boil just thinking about it.
“You’ll help me, right?” Test Tube confirmed.
“Of course I will,” Fan responded. “I just need to confirm I can be the stage manager and all that jazz, you know?”
“Hey! That’s a theater reference right there!” Lightbulb exclaimed, scaring Fan half to death.
“What? What did I say?” Fan shouted.
———
Across the room, Trophy leaned back in his chair, chewing obnoxiously on a stick of gum as he stared at the poster now surrounded by curious students.
“Yo. No way OJ’s auditioning for Shrek,” he snorted, loud enough for people two tables over to hear. “That’s, like… mega gay.”
He said it like it was the sickest burn in the world.
Lightbulb turned halfway around in her seat. “And what if it is, Trophy?”
Trophy blinked. “I mean. I'm just sayin’. A musical? OJ? Dude’s been weird since, like, sixth grade.”
Fan rolled his eyes. “You were in sixth grade choir with him.”
“Shut up! I was forced into that.” Trophy grumbled.
Next to him, Cheesy perked up like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to speak. “Shrek? I love Shrek! You think they’ll let me audition as the Onion of Emotion?” He started humming the first few notes of “All Star,” then held his water bottle like a mic. “SOMEBODY ONCE TOLD ME—”
“Cheesy. Stop.” Trophy snapped, grabbing his arm.
Cheesy grinned, completely unfazed. “If I don’t get cast, I’m gonna start a swamp rebellion. Just sayin’. Justice for Shrek.”
Paintbrush whispered, “I am begging the universe to keep him far from tech crew.”
Trophy stretched and scoffed. “Whatever. OJ can have his dumb musical. I’m not wasting my time singing about donkeys.”
Cheesy nudged him. “What if you get cast as Lord Farquaad?”
“Who even IS that?”
———
Marshmallow, sitting a little farther away with her earbuds in, caught the words Shrek: The Musical floating through the room.
She glanced toward the bulletin board. Her grip on her drink tightened just slightly.
“I thought musicals were banned,” she muttered to herself.
But still… her eyes lingered on the poster.
———
Back at the board, the sign-up sheet was already collecting names.
Coiny and Pin were heading out of the cafeteria when Coiny saw the flyer he grabbed Pin’s shoulder.
“Pin. You have to do this. You remember when we wrote a song together? You have such good vocals!”
“Yeah, but… I can’t,” Pin defied. “My parents would kill me if they heard me singing at my house. They hate musicals for some reason.”
“Then rehearse at my house!” Coiny said, although it was clearly an excuse to spend more time with Pin. Coiny had a crush on Pin for as long as he could remember, but was very good at hiding it.
“Alright, if you insist.” Pin walked up to the flyer and wrote her name.
———
What started as a quiet curiosity had turned into full-blown chaos. Students gathered like moths to a flame, talking, pointing, whispering. Some were already planning auditions. Others were just there for the drama.
OJ stood quietly, shoulders slightly tense, watching the storm unravel around him. He could hear his name, “OJ’s auditioning?” floating through the noise.
He suddenly felt like he’d made a mistake. Or maybe something huge. Or both.
Paper, standing beside him, just smiled.
The moment was loud, wild, and ridiculous, and he loved it.
“You started this,” OJ muttered, barely audible under the cafeteria buzz.
“I sure did,” Paper said proudly. “And it’s gonna be amazing.”
OJ wasn’t so sure.
But maybe… maybe he was starting to be.