Work Text:
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead like trapped wasps as Mr. Molecules assigns partners for the potato clock project. Jacob Two-Two’s stomach drops when Wilson, Quiggley, and Duschane—lounging against the radiator like bored gargoyles—are shoved toward him.
Wilson smirks, sour apple lollipop clicking against his teeth, his Canadiens jersey aggressively red. "Look alive, Two-Four," he drawls. "Try not to cry when we win."
Behind Jacob, Renée fumes, fists clenched beside Buford, who’s cheerfully dissecting a pen spring. "Those imbéciles!" Renée hisses, Québécois accent sharp. "They’ll sabotage you!"
Jacob swallows, throat tight. "It’s fine," he says softly, then repeats, "It’s fine."
Across the room, Buford beams beside Melinda, who’s already sketching circuit diagrams. "Potatoes," Buford muses aloud, "are like tiny, earthy batteries. Did you know in Peru—"
Renée cuts him off. "Focus, Buford!"
Jacob glances at his trio of tormentors already doodling on their handout. Duschane’s braces glint as he yawns. Quiggley’s hair curtains any hint of effort. Wilson just licks his lollipop, eyes cold. Jacob’s knuckles whiten around his pencil. This project just became a minefield.