Chapter Text
Paintbrush Artsmith sat in their assigned seat for science class. Their teacher was explaining something about the "advanced circulatory system", or something like that. Whatever, they didn't care.
Their mind wandered elsewhere. More specifically to a corkboard on the wall of their classroom. The corkboard read: "Penpal System: Coming Soon!".
'Penpals?' they thought, letting out a small chuckle, 'I thought that was an elementary school thing!'
You see, Paintbrush was an 18 year old senior in high school. More specifically, William Jones High School. Living in Boston, Massachusetts, they were one of the oldest in their class of 17-18 year old students, their birthday being in October. October 08th to be exact.
Paintbrush was more of an introvert, not speaking much at school; Or outside of school. Their whole life had basically just been doing as they were told, not protesting against anything they were told, and not saying anything irrelevant as to what they were told.
Throughout life, their teachers often told them that they needed to socialize more and speak their opinions.
They thought that was dumb.
It was their mother's fault, really.
The bell rung, snapping them out of a trance they didn't even know they were in. Off to the next class they go.
After years of being called the "smart-quiet" one, they decided to attempt rebranding to the "quiet" one. They stopped answering questions in class, and ultimately stopped listening in class; which earned them worried comments from teachers and an angry mother.
It was worth it not going by *all* their mother's rules.
They felt rebellious. They felt good.
All of that thinking made them completely forget where they were: in class.
"I expect a three-page essay about the Bubonic Plague's effect on daily life in the medieval time period. Due at the beginning of class tomorrow, no excuses. The grading rubric will be posted on Google Classroom later today."
Seriously, why did they still use Google Classroom?
'Great,' Paintbrush thought, sarcastically, 'A three-page essay. It'll be the usual "lots of homework, insomnia, coffee" later.'
Pretty soon, school was over. Paintbrush grabbed their bag from their locker and headed to their homeroom class for end-of-the-day announcements.
It was the usual: people throwing backpacks at each other, crumbs of chips falling on the ground, students interlocking fingers claiming that their hands are "mating", et cetera. It was a pretty chaotic classroom, especially for seniors in high school.
"Class," the teacher started, "Calm down. Today's announcement is very special. As you may have seen on the school's walls, we're starting a penpal system soon."
'Oh yeah,' Paintbrush thought, picturing the sign from earlier, 'I forgot about that.'
They heard a few groans from their fellow classmates. "Elementary school type shit," one of the boys said.
The teacher continued, "We have partnered with Rodgers Brandon High School of Los Angeles, California, to arrange a penpal system between schools. Next week, our class will begin sending letters to assigned penpals weekly. Is that clear?"
The class mostly agreed, with a series of "yes", "okay", "fine", "no bitch", et cetera.
'Oh well,' Paintbrush thought, sighing, 'I guess this won't be too bad...'