Don't Think Too Hard (solo)

((ooc: Takes place in summer, 2011.))

"Who was Franz Ferdinand?"

"Dead guy," Calley answered. "Started the first world war."

"Because—?"

"Because he got himself assassinated."

"Guy who killed him?"

"Something Prince."

"Princip."

"Prince with a cheep; got it."

"Who else died with him?"

No one important enough to be on the test, that was who. "Now you're just being an ass."

The donkey shifter brayed a laugh. Calley snerked at the sound, his hands in his pocket, his back... feeling unusually light. No backpack today; no books. Just a mechanical pencil in his pocket, and a calculator in his hand. It was time for summer school finals. He'd made his peace with a certain ass in his class; turning a donkey into a brave black stallion for a few hours so he could prance around in front of the girl he liked and play it off as a power growth did wonders to mend their relationship.

"So I was thinking, we should cut a deal—if we all pass, Mr. Grumpet has to buy us something. Like pizza, or ice cream." The donkey shifter started.

"Wait, you were thinking? Whoa."

He'd meant to say the 'whoa.' He just hadn't meant to mean it. Calley stopped with his hand against the wall; his vision spun with black and pink, with after-images of the hallway and someplace else.

"Hey, Calley, are you okay?" The donkey shifter asked, half-way to putting a hand on his arm. Only half-way, though—he wouldn't be caught dead touching another guy like he cared, or something. "It's a little late to be playing sick."

The Italian shook his head, pushing himself away from the wall. "No, I'm fine. Just... got a headache, all of the sudden. "

The donkey shifter shoved his hands in his pocket. "Com'on—we actually studied. We can do this thing."

"Yeah."

"And then—ice cream! Or a pizza party. You think we can talk him into letting us bring friends?"

"What, so you can show off your nice D- to your girl? Classy."

"Hey, I'm going for a D+ today—"

It was nothing; just his imagination.