Life isn't fair - and it never will be. If you expect the world to be kind just because you are, you're a fool. You'll stay a fool until you accept that kindness doesn't buy safety. Some people simply don't care.
"Like expecting a lion not to eat yo...
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Octavia:
It's been two days, and I'm finally tackling the fourth building. The last one.
Yesterday, I somehow cleaned two of the other buildings—but only after spending an hour trapped with Ms. Flowers. You know, "sweet" Miss Trenchbull. Yeah, sweet as a rattlesnake. Apparently, falling asleep halfway through her lecture is a capital offense.
"Come on, chop chop! I wanna watch a movie, and you're moving like a snail on sedatives!" Trixi shouted from the floor, cramming prawn cocktail crisps into her mouth like it was a survival exercise.
"If you want, you can take my place," I said, flicking the mop toward her.
"HEY! I don't wanna get wet today—you already attacked me with that mop last week!" Blondie shouted, holding his own snack packet like a shield.
"I'll do whatever I want," I said, scooping up water from the bucket and flicking it just slightly.
"NOOO! MY CRISPS! PLEASE, SPARE THEM!" Trixi screeched, clutching her packet like it was her firstborn.
"Honestly," I muttered, "if someone tried to murder you, your screaming would probably knock them unconscious first."
"WHO SAID I'M GETTING MURDERED?" she yelled through a mouthful.
"Just an observation," I replied, returning to my sweeping duties.
Blondie tried to sneak forward, then froze when I leveled the mop at him. "Yep. That's what I thought."
"You two are seriously distracting," I muttered, running the mop up and down the hall.
Then—BAM! Something hard slammed into my back.
"Ouch! That bloody hurt!" I shouted, hitting the floor with a splat. The mop collapsed across me, my hands gripping it like a life raft.
Clutching my stomach, teeth gritted, black-and-blue status: activated.
"That. Was. Hilarious!" Blondie shouted, practically rolling on the floor like a beached seal.
I rolled onto my front, pressing the mop like a shield. Pain shot through my body—wrong move.
"Shut up," Trixi laughed, kicking Blondie in the stomach.
"It's not funny!" he squeaked, turning red.
"Yeah, ye—" she slipped herself, smacking into the floor and clutching her knee.
"Oh my god, I CAN'T—" Blondie gasped, choking on laughter like a dying cartoon character.
"Wasn't too funny, huh?" I whispered to Trixi, slowly picking myself up.
"Kind of... but only when it's not you," she groaned, letting me grab her hand.
