Let Me Slit My Wrists

Chapter Three

First period, trigonometry. Ugh, high school sucks. I fiddled around with the eraser on my never used pencil, wondering if I swallowed an eraser I would die. Stupid. I have such stupid thoughts. I heard the rustling of papers, my test rested down on my desk.
"See me after class, Ms. Hallen." Mr. Bryant looked ever so annoyed, handing out the rest of the tests. I looked down. The red ink printed out messily, "35 try studying". Why would I study when I didn't even want to learn this crap?
"Hey. Bad grade?" I didn't look up. I refused to pay any attention to whoever was talking. She sounded kinda squeaky though. "I really hate trig too. Its so pointless ya know? Like why can't we just stick with add, subtract, multiply, divide?" The smell of clementines filled my nose, she smelled really good. I still didn't look up, continuing to thumb at my bright pink eraser. Even though I obviously showed no interest, she kept talking. "Say, do ya like to read? I love poetry. How about you?" No, I was never a reader. I just cut if I was bored. Cut if I was upset. Cut if I was stressed. Cut if anything happened really. Speaking of which, I really felt the itch to cut coming on. Should I use my nails again to rip apart the scar? Or sharpen this pencil and put it to use?
I hadn't realized the girl was still talking. Something about Robert Frost and whatnot. I payed her no mind, tapping my foot quietly, anxious to cut.
"My names Quinn by the way. Quinn Dessi." Quinn Dessi? What kind of name was that. "I just moved here from San Francisco." You're a loooong way from home. "My dad got a really cool job at this firm here so here we are." She laughed a little. How come she wasn't be called out on for talking? Leave me alone. "So what's your name?" Just keep looking at the eraser; don't engage. My fingers ached to cut open one of my scars. When would she shut up and leave me be to do so? "Well?" She seemed real eager to know my name for some reason.
"Reina Hallen." I responded quietly, hoping that would felt her to stop talking to me. I moved a piece of my scraggly, blackish-brown hair out of my mouth. I tasted like that weird smelling watermelon shampoo I used last night.
"Reina? That's really pretty!"
"Ms. Dessi. If you want to speak, I highly suggest you do it after class." Mr. Bryant had an ugly scowl, irritated his lecture was interrupted. Quinn nodded, facing front in her seat with a smile.
"Sorry teacher!" She then began writing something on her paper. Mr. Bryant looked slightly pleased then, continuing his boring mathematical speech that no one paid attention to except for the super smart Indian guy at the front of the class. I think his name was Bajeel. I couldn't remember.
A small, neatly folded note was slid under my hand on my desk. Quinn winked at me, looking back at Mr. Bryant, acting as if she was paying attention the entire time. Don't open the note. I thought to myself. Don't show her you're interested. But eventually my curiosity got the best of me as I tried to sneakily open the note.

Sit with me a lunch, Kay? I wanna keep talking with you!
♡♥♡ ~Quinn, the girl next to you

A soft blush dusted over my face, my hands starting to get sweaty. Dammit, I shouldn't have looked.