Alex Quackity

It was another boring ballroom dance, waltz, or something like that — which, honestly, Wilbur didn't really want to go to in the first place, because he hated any kind of event like this. Truth be told, he didn't even get why the school was making them do this. What, did they think it was the 18th century? Luckily, no.

Wilbur looked around, hoping that no lady would walk up to him and go "So, do you wanna dance, or…?" So he snuck around the edges like a mouse, staying as close to the water boiler as possible. Not a great spot either, but at least he could get a drink.

He watched all the joyful, hormonal teenagers having the time of their lives — dancing, drinking soda (can't have alcohol, losers, lol, you have to be 21), and munching on cheap snacks they'd bought at the nearest corner store.

He pulled out his phone and opened Discord, hoping his friends would finally show up and not leave him in this terrible excuse for an evening. But apparently, they were in absolutely no rush to come. What a shame.