A/N: Hello and welcome to what has been a work in process for a very long time. For starters, this story is rated T due to some swearing and some suggestive content and not-so-appropriate themes. All of our favorite kids have been decommissioned, and this is what I see happening to them in high school. I tried to use as many minor characters from the show as possible so I wouldn't have to put in random OC's. The main ones that you should know (and if you want to look them up in the KND Code Module Wiki to see what they look like) are:

Numbuh 78: Angeline, Numbuh 13: Seth, Numbuhs 44 and 44: Pete and Peter Doblemitz, Numbuh 11.0: Kade, Numbuh 10: Eva. And of course if there are any other names that you don't recognize, just let me know and I'll be more than happy to let you know! This has drug on far too long, so without further ado, I present to you Most Likely to Succeed.

I do not own Codename: Kids Next Door or any characters involved.

Monday - 8:30 a.m

McClintock High - Band Room

There was blood, literally everywhere. Seeped into the collar of his white tee shirt, all over his hands, red drops on the floor and even some on his shoes. The teenage boy was groaning in pain, looking up at the ceiling, trying to stop his more-likely-than-not broken nose from bleeding. Although Herbie was in agony, the other three teenagers in the chilly band room seemed grateful for their friend's unfortunate run-in with a freshman color guard. "You know, we really should go to the athletic trainer." Virginia Sims, the only girl in the small group of ragtag band nerds spoke, looking at the bespectacled boy.

"Why would we?" Bartie asked adding a Yipper Card 89 to the deck that sat between him and Hoagie on the floor.

"Bartie. His nose is broken," Virginia insisted. "Look at it! There is blood literally gushing from it!"

"Okay? Remember when I took a blow to the balls from a flag? Or when Gilligan got knocked over the head with one? We all got out of practice, so it's worth the pain. It's worth the pain, right Herb?" Bartie grinned at the boy who was currently almost through his second towel from all the blood.

"Definitely not." He mumbled groggily. Bartie only rolled his eyes and placed another Yipper card down. Hoagie looked up at Herbie, staring at his nose,

"Not to mention, it's disgusting and going to be a mess to clean up," Virginia began still staring at the floor.

"Who cares? We're not the ones cleaning it up." Hoagie muttered, shoving his glasses up his nose.

"Are the three of you seriously more worried about my blood being a mess to clean up than the amount of blood coming out of my nose?" Herbie stared mostly at the two boys on the floor, who ignored him.

"If we take Herbie to the trainer we'll have to go back to practice and it's so hot outside!" Bartie whined, falling back onto his back on the cold, but not yet dirty, tiled floor. He rolled over and rested his forehead on the ground, spreading all of his long limbs out. The door opened, making all four of the teenagers jerk their heads towards it, only to relax once again when it revealed their tall, dark, heavyset friend with a bag of ice.

"I don't know if it'll help, but-" He trailed off, glancing around before looking back up. "We should take him somewhere. Before he passes out or dies or something." Kade said, stepping over Bartie's stretched out body and plopping down next to Hoagie.

"The trainer!" Virginia exclaimed, "Why do none of you idiots ever listen to me!?" She called out, looking pointedly at each of them. Kade immediately started shaking his head,

"Can't do trainer. Wally's in there and I'd rather not start out senior year getting my ass kicked before school even starts."

"You're literally like three of Wally. How can he kick your ass?" Kade didn't respond and only glared the dark-haired girl.

"We could go to urgent care." Hoagie suggested, gathering up the deck of Yipper cards and shoving them into his Saxophone case. "I'll drive."

"We get out of practice and we avoid getting our asses kicked. It's a win-win!" Bartie exclaimed quickly jumping up and grabbing his trumpet case before making a beeline to the door, "Come on, Herbie's going to croak if we wait any longer." Hoagie and Kade glanced at each other and then back to Herbie.

"Carry me," He reached his arms out, the cloth dropping from his nose and revealing how much blood truly was gushing. Hoagie and Kade glanced at each other once again before laughing and walking towards the door.

"We're going to urgent to care with or without you!" Hoagie called behind his shoulder and began laughing once again when he heard Herbie mumbling and swearing.

As Virginia vividly explained to their middle-aged and balding, band-director, why all five of them had to go the four boys quickly, made their way to Hoagie's eighteen-year-old hatchback Subaru. Virginia jogged over to the car, "Davis seemed pretty pissed off that we skipped before our first game but he'll get over it." She said, adjusting her hair so that it wasn't in as tight of a ponytail.

"We aren't the problem; it's the freshman." Bartie spoke, "It's always the freshman." He put his phone in his pocket and pulled on the door handle incessantly, waiting for Hoagie to unlock the door. Finally, he opened the door and shoved Herbie towards the middle, leaving him on his right side and Virginia on his left, because Kade refused to get any closer to that bloody mess of a teenage boy than he already was. As Hoagie started the car, all five teenagers cringed from the noise it made,

"Is it supposed to do that?" Kade wondered from the passenger seat as Hoagie rolled his blue eyes and the engine finally roared to life.

"No, but it's better than riding in any of your junk cars," He answered, making Virginia lean up and punch his arm rather hard, "And it's big enough too."

"If you say one more bad thing about Betty, I'll kick your ass." Betty was, other than Hoagie's mom, the name of Virginia's beat-to-hell black Camry that Virginia received during her 70's rock phase. Hoagie only laughed and shook his head,

"You know how weird it is right? That you named your car after my mom?" He looked at her through the rearview as he pulled out of the school's parking lot.

"Shut up, you know it's from the song," She laughed and shook her head, "You know the one 'Woah black Betty, bam-ba-lam'-"

"Yeah, Ginny, we know the song." Bartie interrupted her, making her shoot him a glare from the other side of the near-dead teenage boy sitting in between them. "Honestly, it doesn't hold a candle to any Floyd song."

9:26 a.m


The two teenagers sitting in the car were sweating, despite having all the windows down and the sunroof open. Truthfully, they both looked gross. Just finished with cross country practice, the duo hopped into Rachel's Civic and went to their favorite (and only within ten miles) breakfast joint. They walked into the almost vacant restaurant and requested a booth. Sliding into the cushioned seats, they were handed menus and the waitress took their drink orders (black coffee). "I'm leaning pancakes, but the french toast is screaming my name." The blonde said, staring at the menu in conflict. She looked up the teenage boy sitting in the booth across from her who looked up from his menu, over his glasses, and asked,

"What kind of pancakes?"

"Blueberry." He made a face and shook his head as he responded.

"French toast."

"Yeah?" He nodded and she put her menu down, pushing it to the edge of the table for the waitress to pick up. "You?" She asked as he did the same, placing his menu on top of hers.

"Ham and egg melt with avocado." He answered, cracking his knuckles. She made a low groaning noise, causing him to look up and raise a single eyebrow (she noticed that it was always his left eyebrow).

"Sounds good. But not as good as french toast." She winked, causing him to smile. The waitress came back with their coffees and took their order, giving them one of those looks that they always seem to get when they go out together. The "Aw-teenage-love-is-so-nice-and-innocent" look. It got annoying after awhile; especially since they were not dating.

"Oh, hey," Nigel began after wincing from taking a sip of the scorching hot drink, "Lizzie and I are back together." And if Lizzie stays in the picture, they'll probably never date. Rachel stared at him before finally saying one word,

"Why?" She knew why. He gave her the same spiel everytime the two began dating again. (She means well; we're good together; she needs a homecoming date. And of course- even though he never mentioned it- she knew he was getting laid.) But she didn't know why. What prompts Nigel Uno, the varsity track and cross country runner, great student (4.1 GPA), determined (albeit sometimes crazy) boy to date Lizzie Devine, crazy, mean cheerleader?

It was definitely the sex. Rachel knew it was the sex.

"We're meant to be together, Rachel. She gets me." Rachel visibly rolled her eyes, which prompted Nigel to sigh and shake his head, "You know, I shouldn't have mentioned anything." Rachel took a long drink of her coffee, despite it burning her tongue.

"If you want to date Lizzie, I support you." She finally responded, gently nudging his leg with her sneaker.

"You know, that would mean a lot more if you meant it." He answered, a small smirk tugging on his lips. Rachel shook her head and laughed,

"You know," She began, mocking him, "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." The duo had the Lizzie argument more than newlywed couples had the baby argument; it used to result in yelling back and forth but the more they had it, the quicker they got over it. And that's what they did. And that's when one of them had to change the subject. Today, it was Nigel,

"Did I tell you what Charlie did this morning?" He asked. Rachel smiled and shook her head. Charlie (or Charles when he's in trouble) is Nigel's cat that pukes everywhere, poops outside of the litter box, and sneaks dead rodents inside the house and places them on various beds. "So I got out of bed this morning and the first thing I felt was cat puke under my foot." Rachel made a gagging noise and stuck her tongue out,


"No socks."

"I'd kill him."

"Thought about it."

Their food came and they ate in silence, both of them on their phones. Rachel scrolled through Twitter, trying to distract herself with the latest meme rather than getting herself worked up over the school year (that hadn't even started yet) that was more-likely-than-not going to end up disastrous. She reached for the maple syrup and began drowning her french toast in it, much to the exasperation of Nigel. "You're ruining it." He said.

"Huh?" She looked down at the pieces of bread that were quite literally swimming in syrup. The blonde looked up, "Sorry I don't eat everything dirt dry." She sarcastically muttered.

"It tastes better." He defended, taking a bite of his sandwich. "You get the authentic taste of the food." He added as he continued chewing. Rachel mumbled something that sounded like 'yeah, whatever' and went back to her breakfast.

They paid the bill and drove home, Nigel's home, specifically. She put the car in park outside of his house, but he stayed still. For the first time since the last time him and Lizzie were still dating, you could cut the tension in the car with a knife. "What do you have against Lizzie?" He asked, staring directly ahead.

"Seriously?" She scoffed and looked over at him. "She's mean, Nigel. She's so mean."

"No she's not," He defended her. Rachel laughed, except instead of her usually harmonious laughter, it was full of disdain.

"Yeah, Nigel, she is. And it rubs off on the people around her." She kept staring at him as if willing him to make eye-contact with her. He didn't. "Do you want examples? Kuki; I swear hanging out Lizzie has literally sucked the life out of her. Eva. Fanny." This time he did look at her, with a nasty look in his eyes.

"Don't make what happened with you and Fanny Lizzie's fault. You know whose fault it is." He responded. And Rachel could see the ever-so-slight gleam of pride that he got in his eyes whenever he caught Rachel off-guard. Especially in situations like this.

"You don't know shit about what happened with me and Fanny. I know you have a hard time understanding this, but not everything they say is true." She felt the overwhelming urge to vomit, just like she does whenever someone even mentions Fanny Fulbright. Nigel knows that. "Need another example?" She reached over and pulled the passenger side visor down, revealing a mirror that Nigel was staring directly into.

"Rachel, you think everyone, no matter how slightly involved with Lizzie they are, is awful. The problem when we date isn't me or Lizzie, it's you." He said. Making Rachel close her eyes and let out another laugh.

"No, Nigel. Whenever you're dating Lizzie, you just forget I exist. Usually, because you're too busy kissing Lizzie's ass. And when it's not Lizzie, it's Wally or Patton." He sat there, staring at himself in the small, immaculately clean mirror. After seemingly forever passed, he turned his head towards Rachel, flipped the visor up and said,

"You know, you call Lizzie mean, but you can be pretty damn nasty too." He had that gleam in his eyes because this time he had actually rendered her speechless. Moments passed and his blue eyes seemed to scream I won.

He then got out of the car, leaving Rachel, and her mental list of everything she should've said, alone.

12:46 p.m

McClintock High - Girl's Locker Room

Kuki Sanban only wanted one thing, and it was to be at home, in her bed. But instead, she was stuck staring into a mirror as all of her friends swooned over Henrietta's date with Seth Ingelheim. "Puberty worked wonders for him," The blonde gushed. She still had a slight German accent if you listened close enough, which most people didn't. They usually just stared at her chest. "I mean his face is so clear. Not even a single blackhead!" She exclaimed, with that puppy-love look in her eyes. Eva visibly rolled her eyes and said what they were all thinking,

"We get it Hattie, Seth has perfect skin. Just shut up already." Henrietta blew out a breath and rolled her eyes, but let it go. Eva turned around and looked at the Oriental girl, untying her white cheer shoes. "So, Kuki, how's Patton?" Eva turned around from her position right in front of the mirror. Kuki tried to ignore the subtle look of snark playing across her perfect facial features and how she could feel her own face heating up at the mere mention of that asshole. But for some reason, instead of filtering what she said, like she had for the past three years, her mouth spat without her brains approval,

"Patton's a dick." She deadpanned, tightening her ponytail.

"Spill," Fanny sat down on the bench and crossed her pale legs, looking up at Kuki expectantly, almost excited. The dark haired girl looked around and saw eyes that were begging for more drama and gossip to start their last year of high school with. Kuki only shrugged her shoulders and thought to herself, shouldn't have said anything, Sanban.

"He said that he didn't have time for a relationship, right after he came in my mouth." Her eyes slightly widened as she did it again. Maybe she did want to expose him, after all. And maybe she was just screwing with Fanny because Kuki had her own suspicions that he and Fanny hooked up right after he dumped Kuki.

"On a lighter note," Lizzie interrupted, like normal because Lord forbid her not be the center of attention for more than two minutes, "Nigel and I are back together."

"Oh yeah? I thought you were gonna go for a Doblemitz this year?" Henrietta wondered, looking into the mirror, rebraiding her flawless blonde hair. "You know, you and Eva tag team 'em?"

"That and I saw him and Rachel getting pretty touchy a couple weeks ago." Eva pointed out, making Lizzie roll her eyes and flip her hair,

"Rachel McKenzie? Puh-lease. One hand-job and I'll have, whatever their relationship is, shut down ASAP." She dug through her cheer-bag and found her Dove deodorant and reapplied. "Besides, aren't her and Chad still together?" Fanny rolled her emerald eyes so dramatically it was painful.

"I'm still not sure how they got together in the first place," She muttered under her breath. Kuki leaned against the locker and bit her tongue. She wasn't sure exactly why Fanny had a special loathing for Rachel or why they all had to hate her in return just because Fanny did. Apparently there was a big falling out sometime between eighth grade and freshman year, and she assumed it had something to do with Fanny becoming a cheerleader; but surprisingly, Fanny never gave the details, despite Lizzie begging for them so she could, in other words, 'expose Rachel so Nigel would finally only pay attention to her'. Despite popular opinion, Kuki thought Rachel was kinda cool, not that she would ever say that out loud.

"Last I heard, they were still dating. Kinda amazing that they could stay together, actually." Henrietta elaborated, making Fanny jerk her head up and glare,

"Hopefully, he's cheating on her and gives her herpes," Fanny muttered. Lizzie laughed and looked at her fellow red-head,

"Oh, Fanny, honey, we want something worse than herpes." Fanny and Lizzie began giggling uncontrollably as Eva decided it was time to change the subject. Besides, Rachel McKenzie was a boring, outdated topic.

"I recently found out that I had sex with both Doblemitz twins." She claimed, looking at her fellow cheerleaders.

"What?" Kuki laughed as she looked at Eva, who was also giggling.

"Yeah. They both look exactly alike!" She defended herself. "Honestly, I'm not even sure which one I was dating." That sent them all doubling over in laughter. Kuki wiped a tear from her eye and looked over and saw Valerie dramatically stomping in, looking like a complete wreck. "Wow, you look like a mess."

"Yeah, what happened to you?" Lizzie asked, putting on mascara.

"The football players were running down the hallway, acting like idiots and just knocked me over! And they were in complete padding and covered in filth!" Kuki felt a small pang in her heart for Valerie. Yeah, sure, she was an awful person, but her uniform was going to be hell to clean. Especially before the first football game on Friday. "Boys are animals." The blonde turned to Kuki, "I can't believe you and Patton are a thing!"

"You missed it, Val. 'Patton's a dick'." Fanny said, quoting Kuki. Valerie raised her eyebrows and just as Kuki was about to respond, Lizzie interrupted her,

"Long story short, Kuki gets butt-hurt over small things." She deadpanned. Kuki almost defended herself before she realized that it would be about as pointless as a circle. And it's not like anyone else would defend her either. Lizzie checked her phone and dramatically gasped, "I'm going to be late!"

"Where are you in such a hurry to?" Eva asked putting all of her belongings in her cheer bag, taking out her car keys.

"I've got a date. You guys know how this works, restating dominance and everything." She threw her backpack over her shoulders and waved, flashing her almost perfect teeth. "See you girlies bright and early tomorrow!" Kuki internally sighed, realizing that she was about to start her final year of high school.

One more year. Kuki told herself, Just one more year.

2:07 p.m

Kick-Ass Boxing

Wally wasn't sure what was worse, the burning in his muscles from beating the ever-loving shit out of the punching bag, or the same four-song playlist that the speakers had been playing for the past two hours he had been there. He was feeling especially aggressive that day, probably caused by a lot of things; school starting the next day (his last year of high school). The phone-call he received from someone at his first choice college ("Mr. Beatles, as much as we would like to have you playing soccer for us, the only way we can keep your scholarship in place is if you keep your GPA above a 3.0." (Which was bullshit by the way, since eligibility for high school was only a 2.2)). Or maybe Patton talking in a less than tasteful way about Kuki Sanban ("Dude, I could probably give myself better a blow job.") Regardless, he was seething and wasn't wearing boxing gloves, not even considering how awful his fists are going to feel in a couple of hours. That didn't stop him from continuing to slam his fists into the heavy bag, ignoring the sweat that was dripping everywhere. Despite the same four not-that-great-songs that were always playing, he did like this boxing place. At least it was better than the last one; it was way cheaper and there were very few middle-aged moms, after all, it was called Kick-Ass Boxing, his mom definitely wouldn't go there. "Hey, Beatles! There's a ringing that's been coming from your locker from for the past five minutes." The rather old man called out from his place at the desk.

"Thanks, Reggie, I'll be right there," Wally responded, drying his soaking wet hair with a towel. He gathered up his stuff from his station and then his locker, saying a goodbye to Reggie, he walked out into the beaming sunlight. He stepped into his orange Ford Mustang, the car he got for his seventeeth birthday, and blasted the AC. Before he pulled out of the parking lot, he checked his phone that had seven missed calls. Five from Patton, and one from each of the Doblemitz's. He almost ignored them until Patton called again, "What?" Wally answered.

"We're getting wings, meet us at B-Dubs." And then he hung up. Wally sighed and rolled his eyes. On one hand, he was really sweaty and really not in the mood to be around his friends. But on the other hand, barbeque wings sounded really good. So he half-heartedly weighed his options before flicking his turn signal on and pulling out of the parking lot, heading towards Buffalo Wild Wings.

"Beatles!" Wally saw his friends waving their hands from the booth where the four teenagers almost always sat. Maybe because they were there all of the time or maybe it was luck or the universe or something like that. "Oh my God, you're so sweaty," Patton said scooting over so that Wally could slide in.

"Yeah, mate, I was boxing," Wally responded, making both of the Doblemitz raise their bushy eyebrows.

"Didn't you have practice this morning?" Pete asked and Wally nodded in response. Peter shook his head,

"Dude, you can't run yourself ragged. You'll fuck your body up." Wally rolled his eyes, looking back and forth between the two. When he heard the story about both of them having sex with Eva, he genuinely wasn't shocked. Not because Eva was kind of a slut (even though that would usually be the reason), but because they're so much alike. They look the same, they talk the same, they play the same sports. It took Wally an embarrassing amount of time during freshman year, when the four of them became friends, to finally figure out how to differentiate them from each other.

"It's fine," Wally mumbled, looking up the waitress walking towards him, silently thanking her for interrupting the conversation before it went any further. She took their orders (Wally: barbeque wings, Patton: hot wings, Pete: mild wings, Peter: blazin' wings and fried pickles for all of them to share) and left them alone once again.

"Seriously man, you need to lay off. You look like shit." Peter scolded making Wally scoff and glare,

"What are you, a doctor?" He snarked back half-heartedly. He started laughing with Peter as he raised his eyebrow and posed,

"I am more than a pretty face, I'll have you know."

"Oh yeah, way more than just a pretty face," Patton laughed along sarcastically.

"Coming from you, Mr. 'Fugly and dumb as Hell' Drilovsky," Pete answered in defense of his brother (and himself, because once again, they are identical).

"I may be fugly and dumb, but at least I don't have a receding hairline," Patton responded running his fingers through his very thick mop of black hair. Wally slammed his hand on the table from laughing so hard, egging Patton on who was also hysterically laughing. The duo looked across the table towards the twins who were both glaring, which only made them laugh harder.

"Thank you, for pointing out what we already know." Peter rolled his eyes, trying his best to refrain from touching his, admittedly receding, dirty blond hair. Patton and Wally continued laughing up until their waitress brought them their fried pickles, then all of sudden they became too preoccupied stuffing their mouths to continue making fun of each other.

8:48 p.m

Lincoln Household

"Hey, kiddo," Cree knocked on Abby's door as she opened it and peaked her head through. Abby looked up from her laptop as her older sister walked in and shut the door behind her. Abby sat up and moved her MacBook off to the side when she saw what Cree had in her hands, "Dad made cookies."

"When isn't Dad making cookies?" Abby chuckled, making Cree smile. She sat down on the bed, placing the plate of cookies on the dark blue comforter. The older sister looked around at the composition and AP books seemingly everywhere and then back to her younger sister,

"You excited?"

"Excited for the school year? No. Excited to graduate? Yes."

"Come on, Crabigail, you should enjoy your last year. Have fun," She picked up the AP physics book and tossed it aside, making Abby cringe, "And please don't overwork yourself."

"I don't overwork myself. I can handle it."

"You said that last year too," Cree spoke softly, as to not cross any undrawn lines.

"It's fine. I'm fine." Abby mumbled, grabbing her laptop and going back to work, trying to ignore the look that her older sister was giving her. The 'you-know-I'm-right' look that Abby loved to give but hated to get.

"Seriously, Abby, please try to loosen up. High school's supposed to be the best years of your life, with the first kisses and the dances and the parties and the extracurriculars, aw you know what I mean." Abby rolled her eyes and looked over at Cree who was cracking up. There was nothing the college-student loved more than mocking their father. Cree gasped in realization, "Abby, oh my God you have to get drunk at a party. It's a right of passage!"

"Should you really be telling me, a seventeen-year-old, to get drunk? At a high school party?" She raised her eyebrows towards her older sister, who only shrugged,

"Well you can't get drunk alone. Alcoholics drink alone."

"This is probably the worst advice you have ever given me." Abby deadpanned, "And that's seriously saying something." Cree sighed and shook her head,

"You're so complicated. And you're going to regret not being more involved."

"Not involved? I've lettered in three sports. I'm senior class treasurer. I'm National Honors-"

"Society, yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah." Cree interrupted, making Abby scoff under her breath. "Involved with the fun stuff. It's the three P's, Crabby. Parties, pranks, and prom."

"Sounds like a good way to get arrested." Abby mumbled, "All three of those."

"What do you plan on telling your kids?" Cree asked. "They're going to want to hear funny stories of when you were a kid. Playing basketball and being on the honor roll isn't exactly out-of-this-world."

"Why should I care about how boring my future kids think I am? They'll think I'm boring regardless."

"Whatever. I'm not arguing with you about how boring you are. Just remember that these are the best years of your life." Cree sing-songed as she stood up, grabbing one of the chocolate chip cookies from the paper plate. As she was walking out of her bedroom, Abby called,

"The only people that think that are the ones that peaked in high school!"

"Ha. Ha." Cree jerked her head around dramatically and glared, making Abby chuckle. Deep down, she knew that her sister was probably right (besides the 'best years of your life' part). Sure, playing volleyball and basketball with her friends was fun. And being on the honor roll and a part of National Honors Society and student council was important to her. But none of those things scream 'high school experience', at least not like playing beer pong in some rich kid's backyard does.

But of course, the people who throw those parties are the people that Abby actively tries to avoid. Except for maybe Nigel Uno, whenever he and Lizzie Devine get back together. Then again, when they are together, nobody really wants to be around either of them; together or separate. Abby then, decided that finishing her summer work was more important than worrying about her future kids and how they'll think she was a loser. And then she decided that maybe one party wouldn't be so bad.