SPIDER-CHICA!

"Quiet down!" Mr. Cummings barked, glaring at the class. "I know some—what am I saying, all—of you are excited about the little school trip this Friday. For most of you less-privileged children, who haven't traveled beyond the local grocery store or maybe the mailbox in your front yard, this will be a brand-new experience. Honestly, for some of you, it might be your first time even seeing a bus. Life's tough, huh?"

The class stirred uncomfortably, a few stifled giggles breaking the tension.

"Anyway," he continued, holding up a small box, "in here are all your names. You'll come up, pick one, and that'll be your travel buddy for the trip. Since we're short on staff who are willing to waste their time with you lot, and for the sake of 'safety in numbers'—or whatever—you'll be paired up."

A hand shot up near the back of the class. Mr. Cummings sighed heavily, as if the very act of acknowledging the student caused him physical pain. "Yes, Ben?"

Ben Bens Hur Junior's face split into a smirk. "What if you draw your own name, sir?"

The teacher's eyes glinted dangerously. "Then consider yourself blessed, Ben. You'll have even more time to play with yourself than usual."

The class erupted into laughter, and Ben's smug expression crumbled. He slumped in his seat, suddenly finding the view outside the grimy window fascinating.

"Alright, that's quite enough," Mr. Cummings snapped, though a hint of satisfaction played at the corners of his mouth. "Any other earth-shatteringly stupid questions?" The students suddenly developed an intense interest in their desktops. "Splendid. Let's get on with it, shall we?"

He adjusted his glasses with his middle finger – a gesture that seemed deliberately chosen. "I'll call your names. You'll come up, draw a slip, and sit back down. No peeking until everyone has theirs. It builds character. Or suspense. One of those, surely."

A chorus of half-hearted "Yes, sir's filled the room.

Mr. Cummings began calling names, and one by one, students shuffled to the front, reaching into the box with trepidation. When the last slip had been drawn, a collective rustle of paper filled the air.

When the last student had taken their paper, Mr. Cummings waved them off. "Alright, open them."

Raphaela eagerly unfolded her paper and grinned. "Yes! Jasmine, we're in the same group!" She grabbed Jasmine's hand, practically bouncing in her seat.

"Great," Jasmine replied, her voice tinged with nervousness.

"Well, isn't that just wonderful." A voice interrupted them. They both looked up to find Ben Bens Hur Junior towering over them, a mischievous grin on his face.

Raphaela rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Ben?"

"Oh, nothing much," he said, smirking. "Just looking forward to spending some quality time with you two on this amazing trip."

Jasmine shot Raphaela a worried glance. Raphaela just sighed. "This trip is going to be... interesting."

 "Right, Jasmine?" Ben's voice cracked as he swallowed hard, his earlier bravado evaporating.

Raphaela's eyes narrowed. "Why are you only asking her? I'm right here too, you know."

Something in her tone made Ben's eyes go wide with panic. Without warning, he dropped to his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "Forgive me, please!" he wailed, loud enough to draw every eye in the classroom.

Jasmine hissed, grabbing at Ben's arm. "What are you doing, you absolute moron? Get up!"

But Ben was committed to his dramatics, squirming away from Jasmine's grasp. The classroom erupted into a mix of laughter and bewildered murmurs.

Mr. Cummings' face turned an alarming shade of purple. "NO! Absolutely NOT!" he roared, slamming his hand on the desk. "I refuse to allow this... this travesty in my classroom! Child marriage? Teen drama? What's next – a Shakespearean tragedy acted out by hormonal buffoons?"

Raphaela rolled her eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn't get stuck. "Oh, for crying out loud. Get up, you weirdo," she snapped at Ben. "I'm not going to do anything to you."

Relief washed over Ben's face as he scrambled to his feet. "Phew, that was a close one," he said, dramatically wiping his brow.

"Close one?" Raphaela's voice was dangerously low.

Ben's mouth opened, but before he could dig himself into an even deeper hole, Jasmine's fist connected with his arm. "Ow! What was that for?"

"For being an idiot," Jasmine growled, shoving him towards his desk. Turning back to Raphaela, they shook their head. "Just ignore him. I can't believe we're stuck with that clown."

"Tell me about it," Raphaela muttered, her eyes following Ben's retreat.

"QUIET!" Mr. Cummings' bellow silenced the room instantly. His gaze swept over the class, promising swift retribution to anyone who dared speak. "I realize you're all aflutter about this trip, but let's not forget we're still in a classroom. There are lessons to be taught, Shakespeare to be butchered. Now, unless you'd like Miss Richman to assist you in finding your seats..."

The threat of the notoriously strict Miss Richman sent students scattering like leaves in a windstorm. Within seconds, everyone was seated, eyes front, the very picture of academic focus.

Mr. Cummings nodded, a grim satisfaction on his face. "Much better. Now, let's return to Othello. And I sincerely hope," – here, his eyes locked onto Raphaela – "that we can do so without further interruptions."

The weight of two dozen stares fell on Raphaela. She sat up straighter, fighting the urge to shrink under their collective gaze. It was as if they expected her to leap up and start declaiming Shakespearean verse at any moment.

As Mr. Cummings droned on about jealousy and betrayal, Raphaela's mind wandered. The upcoming trip, Ben's bizarre behavior, Jasmine's unexpected protectiveness – it all swirled in her thoughts. One thing was certain: this field trip was going to be anything but boring.

The shrill ring of the recess bell had barely faded when an unwelcome shadow fell across Raphaela and Jasmine's usual sanctuary. Ben Bens Hur Junior materialized before them, his trademark smirk firmly in place.

"Well, hello there, ladies," he drawled. "Fancy meeting you here. Remember me?"

Jasmine's eyes rolled so hard they threatened to fall out of her head. "Unfortunately."

Raphaela fixed Ben with a steely glare. "What do you want, Ben? Don't you have your own friends to annoy?"

A flicker of something – was it pain? – crossed Ben's face before his cocky demeanor snapped back into place. "Funny you should mention that. My usual crowd seems to have vanished into thin air. Poof! Gone without a trace."

"What if they're dead?" Raphaela's voice was flat, devoid of sympathy.

Ben's laughter rang out, sharp and hollow. "Then I guess I lucked out by not being with them that day, huh?"

Jasmine's lip curled in disgust. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"Hey, don't hate the player," Ben shrugged. "I just value my own skin a bit more than most."

Raphaela pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a headache coming on. "I'll ask again, Ben. Why. Are. You. Here?"

His grin widened. "Ah, Raphaela. Always so serious. It's a shame your grades don't match that intensity." He leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "As for why I'm gracing you with my presence – we've got a trip to plan, remember?"

Jasmine's exasperated sigh could have knocked over a small building. "What's there to discuss? We show up, board the bus, pitch tents, pretend to enjoy each other's company around a campfire, sleep, suffer through team-building exercises, sleep again, then mercifully return home. There. Discussion over. You can leave now." She pointed towards the door with exaggerated politeness.

Ben planted himself more firmly on the bench. "Nice try, but no dice. I'm part of this merry band of misfits whether you like it or not. And trust me, I plan on making the most of our quality time together."

Raphaela and Jasmine exchanged a look of pure, unadulterated dread.

"I have a feeling this is going to be the longest weekend of our lives," Raphaela muttered.

Jasmine's response was a groan that seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. "Tell me about it. Maybe if we're lucky, we'll get attacked by bears or something."

Ben's eyes lit up. "Ooh, bears! Now that would make things interesting. Think Mr. Cummings would fit in a bear costume?"

As Ben launched into an elaborate and wildly inappropriate plan involving their teacher and a grizzly suit, Raphaela and Jasmine shared another silent look. This field trip was shaping up to be an adventure, all right – just not the kind they'd signed up for.