They’re also wearing skirts that won’t magically adhere to the dress code once school starts, no matter how much they tug them down.
School hasn’t started yet, so the cheerleaders are flashing their shoulders in blatant defiance of dress code. They’re standing in their usual exclusive circle under the outside pavilion. And yet, somehow, every wide-eyed freshman and half-baked loser at the school wants to be them. The girls claw each other’s eyes out over the hottest boy of the month and the boys flunk out of algebra because they’re doing cocaine on the weekend instead of studying. The football players and cheerleaders are worshipped while they get themselves mixed up in incestuous dating drama. Voltron High, outside of having the world’s coolest high school name, is completely and utterly ordinary. And more than anything else, he doesn’t want to draw attention from the so-called popular crowd. He doesn’t want to buy pot from the dealer in the knit cap slouching against the brick wall of the athletic shed. He doesn’t want to stir up any trouble with the Pokemon players because he accidentally stared one of them down (he has an unfortunate habit of doing that). In practice, it means that every morning Keith slouches from the bike racks to the cafeteria, avoiding making eye contact with any of his fellow teens. But at the time he said it, Pidge had been laughing, which makes Keith think he’s being played. Pidge seems to think it means he’s a grandpa in a kid’s body and well, Pidge isn’t usually wrong. Shirogane says he’s an old soul, whatever that means. Or why the skateboarders can’t talk to the dance team. He doesn’t understand why wearing black and overapplying mascara makes you a goth. No, he has to put up with the social shithole that is high school and play along with the rules of cliques and popularity. It’s bad enough that he has to suffer through inane ‘honors’ classes instead of dual-enrolling fully or, hell, just graduating early and shipping himself off to the magical land of university until that disappointed him as well. And when the hordes of these ‘high schoolers’ descended upon themselves in a cannibalistic, sexually frustrated frenzy, the idiots in charge patted themselves on the back. Somewhere along the course of history, some wiseass decided it was a good idea to stuff a bunch of pubescent kids into confined spaces for seven hours, demand that they ‘learn,’ and observe what happened. High school is just one huge, stinking social experiment and Keith is a miserable cog in the inescapable grasp of the compulsory education machine.
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