The grand gates of Roosevelt Academy Middle School opened wide, and with it, chaos was practically guaranteed.
First came Sofia Roosevelt. A shiny black limousine rolled to a stop, its door swinging open as if she were royalty. Out stepped Sofia in her designer uniform, her hair tied with ribbons worth more than the average teacher's salary.
Two bodyguards carried her schoolbag like it was the Crown Jewels. She adjusted her crown-like headband with a regal flick, surveying the yard like a monarch claiming territory.
She lifted her chin high and announced, loud enough for the entire schoolyard to hear: "Make way. Queen Sofia has arrived!" Her voice echoed off the bricks, drawing a mix of wide-eyed stares and nervous giggles from freshmen.
The students froze, some impressed, some terrified. One girl whispered, "Is she for real?" A boy nodded: "Totally. But hot damn, those ribbons sparkle."
But their awe lasted exactly twelve seconds.
Because down the street, the roar of an engine shattered the morning calm.
Louis Astor pulled up in his father's red sports car, music blasting at an illegal volume—some head-banging rock anthem that rattled windows.
He swung the door open, slid out in slow motion like he owned the planet, and tossed his backpack across his shoulder with a cocky spin that nearly whacked a bystander.
"Bow down, peasants. King Louis is here." He struck a superhero pose, fist pumped skyward, grinning like he'd just conquered Everest.
The students didn't know whether to laugh, clap, or run for cover. One boy whispered, "...Are they both insane?" The crowd buzzed: "This is gonna be epic... or a disaster."
The answer: yes. Absolutely yes. And the school bell hadn't even rung yet.
Scene 1: The Grand Entrance Showdown
Sofia glared across the courtyard at Louis, her eyes narrowing to laser-focused slits, ribbons fluttering like battle flags in the breeze. "Really? Copying my dramatic entrance? Pathetic."
Louis smirked, sauntering closer with exaggerated swagger, car keys jangling like a taunt. "Sweetheart, I was born dramatic. Yours looked like a funeral procession—black limo and all. Rest in peace, your vibe."
Gasps spread through the crowd.
"Ooooh, burn!" a kid hooted. Phones whipped out for the showdown.
Sofia stomped forward, her bodyguards trailing like shadows. "At least my ride wasn't borrowed from Daddy's midlife crisis. Compensating much?"
"Ohhh!" the kids chorused, clapping like it was a rap battle.
Louis clutched his chest dramatically, staggering back with mock agony. "You wound me, Roosevelt. Don't be jealous my car's faster than your slow-moving hearse. Bet it could lap your limo twice before you fix your lipstick."
"Faster?" Sofia sneered, tossing her hair with a venomous flip that sent ribbons whipping. "It's compensating—for your personality." The crowd erupted; a teacher tripped over her own feet rushing in.
Another gasp. A teacher—Ms. Hargrove, red-faced and clipboard-clutching—rushed forward, sweating. "Kids, please, it's the first day—" She waved her arms like a traffic cop in a hurricane.
Too late. The war of words had begun. "This feud's older than dirt," a veteran student muttered. "Welcome to hell, newbies."
Scene 2: Classroom War
By some cosmic joke—or maybe the devil's own entertainment—Sofia and Louis landed in the same class. The seating chart? A cruel prank. Front row: enemies side-by-side.
The teacher, Ms. Bennett, adjusted her glasses nervously. She'd been warned about them. She had even prayed the night before. Clearly, it hadn't worked. She eyed the duo like ticking bombs, muttering under her breath: "Lord, give me strength... or a transfer."
"Alright class," she began, voice wobbling.
"Who can solve this math problem?" She pointed to a beastly equation on the board.
Twenty hands went up. Well—nineteen hands, plus one arm so high it was practically dislocating itself.
Sofia Roosevelt. "Me! Obviously me!" she shouted, leaping onto her chair like a revolutionary leader, skirt flaring dramatically.
But from the opposite row, another hand shot up. Louis Astor. He rocketed to his feet, knocking over a pencil case. "No, me! Everyone knows I'm the genius here. Watch and learn, class."
"You can't even spell genius!" Sofia snapped, whirling to face him, cheeks flushed with fury.
"Yes, I can. G-E-E-N-Y-U-S." He spelled it with smug finger-guns, winking at the class.
The entire class facepalmed. Laughter rippled; one kid wheezed, "That's... not right." Ms.
Bennett tried to calm them, but it was useless. Louis flicked a piece of chalk across the room, smacking Sofia's perfectly curled hair. It dusted her like snow; she shrieked, "My curls!"
She gasped, grabbed the blackboard eraser, and hurled it back. THWACK. Direct hit to his forehead. White dust puffed everywhere, turning him into a chalky phantom. "You'll pay for that, Roosevelt!" Louis growled, coughing dramatically, wiping his face with a ghostly swipe.
"You already look like one—a genius ghost, maybe? Boo!" The class howled; erasers and pencils flew in solidarity chaos.
Chaos spread. Half the class cheered for Louis, half for Sofia.
Ms. Bennett whispered to herself, "Retirement. Early retirement. Please." She slumped over her desk, dreaming of quiet suburbs.
Scene 3: Lunchtime Duel
The cafeteria should've been neutral territory. Instead, it became a battlefield. The air thick with pizza grease and tension.
Louis slammed his tray on the biggest table. "This is the king's table. My table." He throned himself, fork raised like a scepter.
Sofia sauntered in, red apple in hand like it was a prop. She bit it crunchily, eyes locked on him. "Correction. That's the queen's throne." She dropped her tray beside his, uninvited, elbowing his chips aside with a smirk.
"You can't sit here." Louis leaned in, face inches away, breath minty-fresh for battle.
"Watch me." Sofia plopped down, crossing her legs regally.
And then—it escalated. Louis tossed a grape at her. It bounced off her shoulder with a juicy plop. "Take that, fruit foe!"
Sofia flicked mashed potatoes back.
Direct splat to his shirt, gravy dripping like war paint. "Potato power, peasant!"
"Food fight!" someone screamed. Trays overturned; the lunch lady ducked behind the counter.
That was all it took. Carrots flew. Bread rolls soared. Juice cartons exploded mid-air like tiny grenades. Splat-splat-splat— the air filled with flying fries and squeals. "Incoming!" kids yelled, shielding faces. Within minutes, the cafeteria looked like a war zone. Kids dove under tables, others used trays as shields.
Sofia stood on her chair, waving her spoon like a sword. "For glory! Charge, my subjects!"
Louis leaped onto his table, holding a fork like a dagger. "For victory! Taste defeat, mashed menace!"
They charged—spoons clashing mid-air—until the cafeteria doors slammed open. The principal stormed in. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF SANITY—"
Splat. A pudding cup hit his tie. Brown goo oozed; he froze, horrified. The silence that followed was deafening. Food hung mid-air, then plopped. Eyes wide on Sofia and Louis, who high-fived guiltily.
Scene 4: Aftermath & Parents' Arrival
An hour later, both sets of parents stood in the principal's office. The room reeked of detention and denial.
The principal rubbed his temples, tie still crusty. "Mr. Astor, Mr. Roosevelt, your children are out of control."
Astor senior crossed his arms. "Louis was simply defending his honor. Clearly, he won." He puffed up, ego inflating.
"Won?!" Mrs. Roosevelt barked. "My Sofia had better aim! That potato hit straight on target!" She mimed the flick, nearly knocking over a lamp.
"Oh please," Astor senior scoffed. "Your daughter's just a drama queen."
"And your son's a delinquent!" The argument escalated, voices overlapping like cafeteria chaos.
Meanwhile, Sofia and Louis sat smugly in their chairs. Sofia whispered, leaning close with a sly grin, "Next round, cafeteria king. Library lockdown?"
Louis grinned back, eyes sparkling with mischief. "In your dreams, cafeteria queen. But bring it—loser buys tater tots." A tiny, accidental fist-bump sealed it, unnoticed.
The principal buried his face in his hands. "I'm transferring to another school. Effective immediately." But as the parents bickered, a janitor burst in: "Uh, principal? The food fight... it flooded the kitchen. And someone glued the rivals' lockers together. With glitter."
Sofia and Louis exchanged "oops" glances. The real war? Just heating up.
-----
SOFIA: PLEASE SUPPO—
LOUIS: HEY! THAT'S MY DIALOGUE, PINK MONSTER!
SOFIA: SHUT UP!
LOUIS: NO, YOU SHUT UP!
WITH EXHAUSTION,
AUTHOR: YOU BOTH SHUT UP!
(Sofia and Louis sulking, but smirking secretly)
PLEASE SUPPORT,
CHAOS GUARANTEED FROM,
🤜 SOFIA AND LOUIS 🤛