Still

Chapter Six

"Once upon a time there was a freak," I started. "She was so freaky that even her parents began to ignore her to the point that they one day left her for dead in her own home. Still, she continued to do her normal activities, such as walk through the village, collecting as many goods as she could from the villagers.
"One day, she found a bunch of paintings that belonged to a well-known artist who had disappeared earlier that month. When the villagers found out that she kept these paintings, they screamed and yelled at her, saying: 'You stole these! You stole them from him!'
"They accused her of horrific things from then on, and the artist's disappearance only made it worse. 'You ate him! You ate the artist!' They soon began to cry. The freak knew that even if she returned the paintings, they would still yell, so she stayed quiet. Little did they know that she would have never done anything to harm the artist, because-"

Mr. Stuffkins' head drooped to the right side of his body. He looked sad and confused.

"The artist meant nothing to the freak," I told him. "I lied."

I looked back at my English assignment, which still had nothing but my name on it. Just old Alice Noble with one story in mind, even if it was a work of non-fiction. Maybe if I said the word 'freak' a couple more times, I could pull it off as original. That's saying Brianna doesn't point out to the rest of the class that this was her new pet name for me.

"I don't know, what do you think?" I asked Mr. Stuffkins. He gave me a look that can only mean, 'It could use some work'.

Well, it said either that, or I really needed some psychiatric help and soon. Wasn't he just the sweetest thing? Maybe he was starting to lose some marbles in his head. Literally.

I wanted to put my English assignment back into my bag, but that would mean actually opening it. Maybe I could find that folder I wanted for all of Harry's stuff. Really, it was a bit excessive, but what else was I supposed to do? Let those stupid guys take all of his stuff?

Maybe I could just return them all to Harry somehow. I mean, he probably had parents and a house, right? I didn't. His home situation couldn't have been any worse than mine. Actually, no, it was possible, and I was just being a selfish brat like usual.

Right, I needed a folder.

"Take care of my room," I told Mr. Stuffkins as I pulled myself off of my mattress.

There were pins and needles in my feet, but I just shook them out as I stood up. I strolled out of my room, and down the stairs. When I got to the main floor, I searched for Mom's future office, also known as the room under the stairs. It wasn't a cupboard like what Harry Potter had; it was an actual room with walking space and everything, but it was just tiny. It could fit Mom's desk, a file cabinet, a tiny red rug, but nothing else.

It wasn't like she needed anything else though, I guess. She hadn't really used it yet, and I wasn't quite sure if she ever planned to, now that she was hoping to get a real office job and all. Still, it had all of the necessary office supplies, which I also currently needed.

Her office stuff was still in unopened boxes at the foot of the door. The tape had already began to peel off, so I took its dying remains, and pulled it off slowly and gently. The box unfolded with ease, and I fished through the contents.

I was able to find a billion sheets of paper, three pencils, and a red ballpoint pen before I found my file. It was nothing too fancy, either- just something to hold a few flimsy papers in. It should do for all of Harry's stuff. It was only fifteen things or so, plus I'd be giving it back to him very soon.

I walked out of the mini office with the folder in hand. Something from behind me creaked, and I felt myself jump a bit. I was aware that new houses made weird noises, but that didn't mean I had to be okay with spooky new-house sounds...