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Miscount

Miscount

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WpMetadataReadOngoing<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sun, Apr 21, 2013
WpInfo
Fiction
Science Fiction
"In the second row of tables, fifty seats from the far end of the hall, a girl screamed. Her voice shocked the silence with a single note and the way it reverberated was spine-chilling. She whipped her hand out and pointed to the back of the boy in front of her. His white shirt had caught, and the collar had been pulled down a few inches reveling his numbers on the skin of his upper back." (Note: this is a finished story, it just needs some thorough editing.)
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This sucks.' I thought as I dozed off through the lesson. Out of all the places I could've been sent to. I was sent to THIS class. Someone cleared their throat from behind me and I internally groaned as I turned around. I came face-to-lower stomach and I moved my gaze upward to a somewhat angry face. "Can I not help you?" I asked, "Your in my seat." The boy said and I scoffed, "No its not." I said my tone dripping with attitude. "Yeah it is." He pressed on and I leaned back in the chair. "I don't see you're here." I say, "Top corner on the table and right-side up on the chair." He said and B.L. was there. "That's clearly the name of someone else." I said, crossing my arms. His lip twitched upward. "That stands for Blaze Lancester." He said, "Well, I've never heard of Blaze Lancester." I say, smiling, "My name IS Blaze Lancester." He said, "Well then I guess you should stop writing on the school's property." As those words left my mouth, all of hell broke loose.

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