13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡy7Ia6cikOi
The photo hit the school’s unofficial meme page at 7:03 AM, right as the first-wave nerds were shuffling into the library for morning study hall. By third period, Walker’s rainbow-streaked forehead—glitter still clinging stubbornly to his eyebrows—had been slapped onto every conceivable reaction meme: a weeping Wojak, a smug Patrick Bateman, even the "disaster girl" smirking in front of a burning house. Someone had Photoshopped him into the *Last Supper* tableau, sandwiched between Chill Guy and Sigma with the caption "WHEN THE LUNCH LADY SERVES MYSTERY MEAT AGAIN."
Walker slouched at their usual lunch table, picking at his tray with the enthusiasm of a prisoner facing a firing squad. "I’m transferring," he announced to his chocolate milk. "Alaska. Witness protection."
Jovie snorted, flicking a tater tot at his forehead—where the last flecks of violet still clung to his hairline. "Too late, Picasso. You’re internet famous now." She tilted her phone toward him, showing a tweet with his face that had already racked up 4K retweets. The hashtag #RainbowWalker was trending locally.
Oakley slid into the seat beside Jovie, his tray clattering louder than necessary. He smelled like cheap cologne and the nervous sweat of a guy who’d rehearsed this moment in the mirror. "So," he said, too casually, "Ethan came out to my parents last night."
Walker flicked a stray piece of glitter off his tray. "Amberly's like if a tornado and a glitter bomb had a baby," he muttered, watching the tiny fleck catch the sunlight before vanishing under the table. "A terrifying, pink-haired baby who feeds people *El Diablo* chips like they're vitamins."
Joel choked on his soda, slamming a fist against his chest. "She *licked* the Tilt-A-Whirl safety bar," he wheezed. "For *science*. Who does that?"
"The same person who carries a bobby pin specifically for liberating carnival snakes," Valerie deadpanned, spinning her gummy bear between her fingers before flicking it at Joel's forehead. It stuck perfectly to his sweat-damp skin. "Also, she called my eyeliner 'basic' yesterday."
Jovie grinned, tapping her phone screen where Amberly's latest text glowed: a photo of Principal Chen's coffee cup with the caption *glue is temporary, chaos is eternal*. "She's growing on me. Like a funky mold."
The group's laughter ricocheted off the cafeteria walls like a pinball, drawing glares from the mathletes two tables over. Valerie slumped forward, pressing her forehead against the cool laminate tabletop. "Ahgh, I *still* can't forget about yesterday's trauma!" she groaned, her voice muffled by her arms.
Jovie flicked another tater tot at Walker's forehead—it bounced off the last stubborn fleck of violet glitter clinging near his temple. "Yep, definitely an unforgettable day," she said, grinning as she pictured him again: rainbow-streaked, glitter-bombed, with that look of utter betrayal as the face-paint artist added the final unicorn horn flourish.
Walker stabbed at his mystery meatloaf with surgical precision. "You're all dead to me," he muttered, but the effect was ruined when a rogue chunk of meat flew off his fork and landed in Joel's hair.
Joel didn't even flinch. He just plucked the meatloaf from his curls and popped it into his mouth. "Tastes like Walker's gayness." Joel laughed. "and some of that lint from the gas station floor."13Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡB40eoqJfqU
"JOEL!" The group had cried, giggling.
and then Add to home screen.