Chapter 5: Well, at least she's hot.

'I'm gonna kill myself.' That was all I could say inside my head as I walked into the den of wolves. It looked like the type of class I'd been in before, posters on the wall, desks with the chairs attached, a whiteboard, and of course, a bunch of snot-nosed brats.

Some students glanced at me when I entered, though most of them went back to whatever they were doing at their desks. A few of them continued to watch me as I walked deeper into the classroom, but enough about them, let's me tel you about the absolute dime at the forefront of it all.

She was a slim Hispanic woman, tall, and had a bob cut, wearing the typical kindergarten teacher's sundress; I'd be lying if I said she didn't look good in it. "Hi there! You must be Bryan's son, Ky. I'm Ms. Martinez, your teacher!" the woman said, approaching me before crouching down to my level; I may or may not have been distracted by two things specific circular objects. "You look just like him!" she said, pinching my cheek as if she'd known me all my life. Immediately, I had one thought.

'How the hell does Bryan know this woman?'

"You know my father?" I asked, wincing as she still pinched my face.

"I do, we went to school together!" I guess that was a good enough answer for me. If it was anything more than that, it was probably best that I didn't know.

Anyway, being pinched by a beautiful woman in her thirties made my situation a little better. 'Well, at least she's hot.' I thought to myself.

Once she finished pinching me, she pointed at an open desk next to a little Black boy with a buzz cut. "You can have a seat next to Miles," she told me.

'MILES MORALES!?' My inner voice screamed. Spider-Man was--is--my favorite superhero, though I needed to be careful around him so as to not prevent him from becoming the black and red-wearing hero.

Miles was sitting in the front row, and I took my seat next to him. "Hi, what's your name?" I asked him, playing the role of a little boy as best as I could. On the inside, I was fanboying. I could potentially become best friends with Spider-Man of all people, I couldn't mess this up. By the way, if you plan on commenting about how "Miles Morales isn't Spider-Man," I have two words for you: Kill yourself! Seriously, I haven't seen anyone say Wally West or Barry Allen isn't the Flash, nor have I seen anyone say that Damian Wayne isn't Robin. Hell, I've never even seen anyone say Miguel O'Hara isn't Spider-Man despite being just as different, if not more different than Peter as Miles is. I think these guys are simply just a word that rhymes with pacist. 

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled program. Don't check the paragraph comments in that last paragraph; trust me, it's gonna be filled with those people. And I'm putting air quotes around the word people.

'This is just like Persona.' I thought to myself. 'Pick the right dialogue options and our friendship will grow. Simple.'

"My name's Miles, what's your name!" Miles introduced himself in a very polite manner with a smile.

'I guess his parents raised him right...' As this thought appeared in my brain, I could feel myself holding back a devious grin once I realized what becoming his friend could mean for me.

'If I become friends with Miles Morales, that means that I would inevitably be invited over to his house to play, as for what is at Miles's house, I have three words for you: Smoking. Hot. Mom. Rio Morales will be there, and if she looks anything like she does in most comics and ESPECIALLY Spider-Verse, I NEED to see her. I know, I'll become best friends with Miles, lifelong friends to the point where I'm almost part of the family, then, one day, Miles and his dad won't be home and I'll visit and guess who will be home, his mother, his super hot fucking mom will be there all alone and she will invite me inside, talking about how much I've grown since she met me all those years ago, and just like in those doujins I read, his mother will wanna see how much I've grown in other ways, pulling down my boxers to reveal my pulsating, rock hard cock before shoving in her mouth and before long we're fucking on the couch, I'm giving her the best dick of her life right there in the living room, young college stud destroying hot Latina milf type shit...'

All of those thoughts raced through my mind in a millisecond before I introduced myself to him. "My name is Ky. Nice to meet you."

And just like that, we were friends. I'll spare you the boring details that followed. Our very attractive teacher introduced us all to the ABC song, praising me for doing a job well done. I was going to make a D joke here, but I couldn't come up with one. 

Anyway, after about an hour of kindergarten stuff, Miles and I found ourselves on the playground, playing basketball on one of those little tikes basketball hoops that were only a few feet tall. Every time I missed a shot, I just reversed time and made the next one so it looked like I never missed. As we shot around, I could feel eyes being locked on me. 'Ugh.' I thought to myself, hating the attention I was already getting due to my looks.

You know, I used to always say that good-looking guys had it easy, but if this is what they have to deal with then never mind. I mean, they still have it easy but this shit's annoying.

As Miles and I were being bros, shooting the basketball around, I took a fadeaway jumper that missed and bounced off that backboard toward a group of girls who were already staring at us.

Shyly, one of the girls grabbed the ball and began approaching me. However, she didn't hand it to me. It was as if she were holding the ball hostage. "Do you want to push me on the swing?" she asked me.

"No. I'm playing basketball with Miles right now." I spoke plainly, maybe a little rudely. Listen, I didn't want these little girls to even think I was compatible. And before you say "Little kids don't feel attraction," I was literally in love with Raven from Teen Titans when I was like three years old before my rebirth. 

"Oh..." she muttered. "Why?"

'The fuck you mean why?' I thought to myself. 'Sorry, girl, I am not Drake.'

"Because he's my friend."

"Can I be your friend?" she asked, swaying from side to side with her hands behind her back.

'Fuck no.' I thought. 'I guess I'll have to be a little more direct and a tad bit mean. Sorry, kid. It's the only way.'

"No way! I don't want your cooties!" I said in my best little boy impression before I stuck my tongue at her, grabbed the ball, and turned around. 'Hehe, sticking out your tongue is like the middle finger for these brats. Hopefully, she'll never talk to me again.' I thought to myself before returning to Miles. Yeah, that was mean, big woop. Have you ever thought about how weird it might feel to see little kids develop crushes on you? 

"What's cooties?" he asked me. I guess we were a year or two early for that concept to be widely known.

"You don't know?" I asked him, forming a massive smile on my face. Miles shook his head. I then leaned in close, cuffed my hand around his ear, and whispered, "It's what girls have. If you get too close to them, you'll die!"

"Die!?" Miles parroted back to me, his voice trembling.

"You'll die!" I repeated in the same tone as if I was telling a spooky story by a campfire.

Miles then looked back at the group of girls behind us with horrified eyes before looking back at me. "I don't wanna die!"

Before I could tell him it was all a joke, the bell rang and it was time for us to go back to class. Again, I'll spare you the boring details of a kindergarten classroom.

At the end of the school day, the driver of all people was there to pick me up. "Where's dad?" I asked him, walking out of my classroom door with students following behind me. "In the car," he told me.

"Is he running from my teacher or something?" I asked him.

"Perhaps," he answered.

'Bryan definitely used to fuck her...' I thought to myself.

'Lucky bastard.'