The Compass and the Quill [Under Revision]

4. Treason of the Trustworthy

Quilla

"Spend more time around people." Hmmm. Even if I did have the courage to do that, the people in question wouldn't exactly be happy about it.

"Talk to people."I'd try if anyone would want to be within earshot.

"Make eye contact and smile." Nope.

"Start a conversation." I couldn't start an imaginary conversation, forget a real one.

"Make small talk." They seriously needed to stop with actions involving use of the vocal chords.

"Introduce yourself at the end of the conversation." I didn't need an introduction per se...and again with the talking!

"Initiate a get-together." I could invite myself and my shadow.

"Ask them out for - "

I shut the laptop with a loud thud. "Nonsense. We are not asking Parker out."

Embarrassed at being witness to my own thoughts, I groaned and flopped onto my bed. The WikiHow page about making friends had been no help whatsoever. It wasn't made for people like me. The internet was as useless as and more infuriating than Mr. Phillips. And to think I had actually woken up early in the morning to research this.

"Wait a minute." I sat up again, staring at myself in the mirror. The image that stared back shone with hatred. "You are going to remember, Quilla. Get this into your thick skull. Friends are traitors."

I repeated that to myself throughout my shower and all the way to school. Thankfully, once I did get there, counting steps took up much of my attention. The problem began when I was in class, where I had nothing to distract me. After three hours of classes and two splitting headaches, I decided to try writing down every word the teachers said. My pencil flew back and forth on the paper and beads of sweat appeared on my forehead; my fingers ached and I was pretty sure that I had dug the pencil in so deep that it had torn the page in places. But things were about to get much worse.

"What's up with Killer Sanders?"

"Sssh! She'll hear you!"

The girl lowered her voice, but not enough that I couldn't hear her. "She looks so aggravated...look at the way she's writing."

"Vinnie, I'm...I'm scared...do you think she's going to lose control or something?"

My fingers tightened painfully around my pencil as I attempted in vain to control my temper. Why did they have to look at everything I did in a negative light? I was still a high school girl and I could very much be worrying about mundane high school problems! And how on earth were they drawing such far-fetched conclusions simply because I was writing fast?

"She could stab someone with that pencil..."

The only person I would want to fatally stab was myself, and I sure as heck wouldn't use a pencil for that.

"Don't say things like that! God, why won't the bell ring?"

My chest heaved as I tried to hold in my scream of rage and frustration. They were really starting to get on my nerves. I was starting to get on my nerves. This wasn't the first time some imbecile was spouting bullshit like this, but these two were a whole new level of stupid. These two were the kind who couldn't tell the difference between your and you're.

"She's shaking...maybe I should run to the bathroom..."

"We should ask to switch places!"

"Idiot! Who would want to switch with us?"

"This isn't fair, I don't want to die single!"

"Dial 911!"

BOOM.