Highschool Four

Chapter 2: A Mutually-Beneficial Relationship

//Buddy wears basically a little business suit without the jacket, has black hair with dyed blue ends, and carries a briefcase instead of a backpack.

Ichabod 'Buddy' Flud walked through a school hallway, posture straight and smile charming. It had taken him three months to get his last school wrapped around his finger, five-to-eight months for each of the schools before that. A week into St Canard High, and he was optimistic he could beat his record by at least a month.

Of course, Buddy had always been an optimistic sort of dog. He knew things could go wrong, he just chose to believe they wouldn't, and things usually turned out his way. A bit of subterfuge never hurt either.

He was a little nervous about his Spanish class, but one of the keys to success was looking like you'd already won. He exuded confidence as he sauntered amongst his so-called 'peers', silently making it clear that (unlike them) he was made for great things.

"Leave me alone!" A voice yelled from around the corner, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a punch. "Stop it! Let me go!"

Run for self-preservation? Get a teacher for Good Student Points? Get closer to size up the situation?

Other students were already edging away, which told the beagle something important; whoever was doing the beating up was well-known and powerful. He moved in closer, peaking around the corner.

A large pig, a gorilla, and two bulldogs — all wearing sports jerseys — were surrounding a bird curled up on the ground.

"What's the matter? Not so brave now, huh?" The pig — Hamm String, Buddy recognized him from his research into the most popular kids — laughed, kicking at the other. "Where's all the gusto from when you refused to do our homework?"

The gorilla joined in the laughter. "I thought Monsters was supposed ta be all tough an' whatnot, ya know? Turns out dey're liddle crybabies!"

A Monster? Buddy's eyes went wide. He'd never met a Monster in real life, there weren't many in Duckburg, but he'd heard they made up over a fifth of St Canard's population. He looked closer at the bird, who didn't look particularly abnormal, and came to a decision.

A decision that was 20% curiosity, 50% opportunity, 5% to spite Hamm, and 25% reluctant empathy. At least, that's what Buddy's mental pie chart told him. Did other kids, or people in general, use imaginary pie charts to sort their feelings? Probably not. Did he care? No.

"Excuse me, gentlemen, but I'm afraid I must ask you to refrain from such activities." He gave his most charming smile as he casually approached, giving a disinterested glance at the huddled mass on the floor. "An educational facilitator is approaching."

"Wha'?" One of the bulldogs asked.

"A teach is comin', scatter 'n' scram!" Ma had spent so much to get him lessons on proper speaking, and yet these plebians always responded so much faster to his birth accent. Infuriating.

"Woah, thanks dude!" The pig gave a thumbs-up as the group ran off.

"Don't mention it." Buddy rolled his eyes. Too easy. "Are you alright?"

But the bird, who Buddy could now identify as a very tall duck, wasn't listening. He'd jumped up and was rifling through a trash can, muttering to himself. Before Buddy could ask him what he was doing, the duck pulled out a potted plant, hugging it closely to his chest.

"Don't worry, the bad men can't hurt you now." The duck whispered to the plant, who responded by licking him? The duck locked eyes with Buddy, backing into the wall. "And, and, and you can't either — a teacher's c-c-c-coming."

"I have absolutely no idea if an educat- a teacher is coming or not." He let his smile drop, turning thoughtful and serious instead. "I'm surprised by how quickly the brutes fell for my little fib. Now, I shall repeat myself this one time; are you alright?"

"You l-lied?" The duck straightened a little. A few bruises were peaking through his feathers and one of his eyes was swollen, but he didn't seem too badly injured. His eyes narrowed, his fright apparently fading rather quickly. "Why?"

Buddy walked a little closer, intending to respond, but lost his train of thought when he got a better look at the other's eyes. They were a brilliant green, with nearly-black sclera. He'd never seen eyes like that before. He shook himself to clear his head, hoping he hadn't been caught staring. "It simply seemed the proper thing to do."

The duck gave him an unimpressed look, raising an eyebrow. He just silently stared at him, not really doing anything, but Buddy suddenly became aware of just how much taller the duck was than him.

"Er..." Cowering one second, intimidating with silence the next. This guy was fascinating! "I've never met a Monster before, and you seemed interesting, I suppose. Besides, Hamm's a jerk whose could use a few pegs bein' knocked down, ya know?"

"Great." The duck rolled his eyes, turning to walk away, meekness replaced by annoyance as he realized Buddy didn't intend to finish what Hamm started. "Well, you've gotten a good look at the half-Monster freak, so you can just be on your way now."

That was unexpected. Buddy had to rush to keep up with the other's long strides, but he didn't mind — his Spanish class was this way anyways. "I carry a briefcase and switch accents at will, I doubt I have the right to condemn another for their freakiness. Real or merely perceived."

The duck shot him a wary look, still clutching his plant. He shook his head, scowling in a way that revealed small fangs. "Yeah, right. You're probably just trying to trick me into doing your homework or something. Just leave me alone, will ya?"

"Completing the homework of others is a great way to both increase your income and keep the future success rate of your competitors low." Buddy replied, winking. "I should know, I was doing the homework of over half my last school."

That got a reaction, with the duck looking him over more carefully. "Oh."

"Buddy Flud, future CEO and entrepreneur extraordinare." He held out his hand as they walked, the pace slowing down a bit now that the other wasn't actively trying to evade him.

"Bushroot." The duck replied, not taking the hand. "Reginald Bushroot. You can call me Reggie, if you want. This is Spike." He held up his plant, who barked at the introduction.

"...Pleasure, Reggie." Buddy nodded, ignoring Spike for the time being. "Are you scheduled for Spanish class? If so, might we journey together?"

"Sure." Reggie was a duck of few words. Buddy liked that.

As it turned out, they had a lot of the same classes besides Spanish, and had both been transferred rather recently. They took to sitting near each other throughout the day, which is what led Buddy to make an important discovery about his new associate.

The guy was a genius. Reggie spent every class correcting the teachers, pointing out their mistakes in a brutal fashion, putting together college lecture-worthy speeches on dozens of topics, most of all in Biology and Chemistry. It would've been insanely brave, except he didn't do any of this out loud. Every class he was hunched over his notebook, scribbling away, writing what he apparently wouldn't dare say in reality.

Between classes, and at lunch, Buddy would lean over and make comments on what he read. Reggie was horrified he'd seen it, probably expecting to be mocked, but relaxed when Buddy actually agreed with him.

By the end of the day, the duo were walking to the bus stop together.

"Hamm saw us talking. He's going to figure out you tricked him, eventually." Reggie whispered while they waited for the bus. "This was nice, almost like having a friend, but I don't think we should hang out again. He could really hurt you."

"Don't worry my anxiety-prone associate." Buddy smiled. "I always have a plan."

He left it at that, not clarifying even as the bus pulled up. The plan was that he'd payed a girl twenty bucks to kiss Hamm and gotten a picture of it. Hamm String had pushed the girl away, telling her off and claiming to be in a 'Mono Moose' relationship with dear Preena Lott, but there were no photos of that bit.

Too bad, so sad, Hamm's upset but Buddy's glad.