Silent

Prolouge

Marks are left in ink on the page, forming letters, then words, the words then form sentences. It's funny how the marks placed in the way they are, can have the power to make emotions come out.

In other words, I'm crying over a book at the moment.

My back leans against the tree, my bag lays off to the side somewhere, my book remains in my hand, I'm using all my self control trying not to throw it...

Why did my favorite character have to die?! Authors, why do you hate me so much? What did I ever do to you? People like me, we are the reason you make money! Without the book nerds how do you expect a paycheck? You should be writhing good books, not poorly written ones that end in the main and/or best character dying!

I shove the book in my bag, being careful not to ruin it, as much as I hated it, I could never harm a book. I glance around, the football players and the walking Barbies sit together, pretending that they are so much better then the rest of us. The nerds sit together, studying for who knows what. You've got to love stereotypes. Then there sits the group of weird kids. The group of kids that fit into numerous categories. A kid from that group just exploded a milk.

I'm know as the loner of the school, I don't talk to anyone, they all talk about me. I don't care about rumors, they don't faze me one bit. Why should they? I'm in high school, I'm going to have to deal with a lot of drama.

My phone vibrates, I look at who the text message is from, I look at the message before replying.

'Hello,' I type before hitting send.

'Well hello there Xia, how are you doing?' My best friend Christopher asks me. Don't question my name, my parents wanted it to be unique, it certainly is. It is also hard to pronounce, everyone always gives up and says 'ex-eah' when it's pronounced 'ze- ah'

'I'm doing lovely,' I type being sarcastic. 'How about you?'

'I'm fine, but you aren't. What's up?' He knows that sarcasm isn't my thing, he can tell that I'm not being myself.

'The author of this book, she killed my favorite character!' I tell him.

I soon realize that it is time to go in, I get my stuff together.

'I see' he replies, thinking that I'm sad for nothing, this is why I prefer fictional characters over people.

'I need to get to to class, I'll talk to you after school.'

'Okay, I hope the rest of your day in prison is lovely!' He says before we exchange goodbyes.

I pick my bag up off of the partially dead grass, luckily after today I will be homeschooled.

Christopher, my best friend, is very popular, unlike me. He is also very rich. Him, along with three of his friends from school are going on a giant vacation this summer. A few months at the beach staying in an ocean front house.

And because I'm Christopher's best friend, I was invited to come.

I walk through the crowded hallways, people point and whisper about me as I walk by. I look to the right and I spot my locker, hurtful messages are written on it in permanent marker.