Another scribble.

Well, I got another short story clip thing. My sister's sick, so she won't be typing up the Prince Diary for awhile. There are a lot mistakes in here. As I also wrote this about a year ago and never edited it.

Personal Advice

I slammed my backpack into the locker. I winced as my knuckles knocked against the metal door. I heard giggling behind me. Just leave me alone. I thought bitterly.

“Oh Millie!” a singsong voice called. It wasn't a pleasant voice. Slowly, I turned to face the three Ss from my class. Samantha, Samara and Sannah. Who would name their kid Sannah anyway? The girls smiled at me sweetly.

“Want to go for a walk?” Samantha sneered. She had beautiful blond hair. Unlike my own wispy black hair. I shook my head, grabbed my inhaler and raced for the back stairs.

“Come back!” Sannah screeched, “We need to show you something interesting.” Something interesting like a black eye. Or a punch in the nose. I thought. I reached the stairs and jogged down them, pausing once on the landing to inhale.

I reached the bottom of the stairs, pushed open the door and stepped out into the main floor of the school.

“Just another five weeks and school will be over.” I whispered to myself, “Stick it out, Millie, you can do it!” I became aware of someone watching me. I glanced over my shoulder. Their was a boy leaning against the wall near the door. One of his eye brows was raised in an inquisitive look. I hated that look. People always got that look when I talked to myself.

“You talk to yourself?” he asked. His tone sounded mocking in my ears. I winced.

“Of course I talk to myself!” I snapped, “Sometimes I expect advice.” Idiot! I scolded myself. You're just giving people the idea you are a bigger idiot then they thought.

“You give yourself advice?” the boy asked, “Is it good advice?” He raised both eyebrows in a perfect arc. He's just making fun of you! I thought bitterly. I turned my back on him, and stumbled towards the stairs. The boy followed me.

“Go away!” I muttered. I reached for the door. He grabbed the handle, twisted it open and held it for me. What a perfect gentleman. I thought sarcastically.

“What did you say?” he asked. I didn't look at his face. Afraid I would see the familiar mocking smile or perhaps the pitying look grownups favored. I could not stand the pitying look.

“I said, go away!” I sniffled. Don't cry! Not here, not in front of a boy! Why should I care what he thinks? Not him or anyone else! I wiped my hand across my eyes and ran down the steps towards the sidewalk. I ignored the footsteps which followed me.

“Just because, some fool doesn't burst out laughing the minute he sees you, doesn't mean you need to blubber like a baby!” I admonished myself, “He thinks you're an idiot like everyone else. Get a hold of yourself.”

“Giving yourself advice?” the boy asked as he caught up to me. I nodded. You didn't need to confirm it! Inwardly I kicked myself.

“What kind of advice?” he asked. I scowled. Of course I could not repeat the advice to him. “I could really use some advice now!” he persisted.

“Ask yourself?” I hissed. And started to jog. He easily caught up to me.

“But I'm not a pro in asking or giving advice.” he argued. I glanced at him. This guy is either trying to make me seem like an idiot or he's a nut! I thought. His face looked dead earnest. I decided he was a nut.

“What kind of advice you want?” I asked stiffly. He shrugged.

“Math mostly!” he shot me a lopsided grin. I hesitated. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but it sure wasn't that.

“Why ask me?” I countered.

“You're one of the best Math kids in the school!” he said.

“Yeah, but Sannah is better.” I muttered. He made a face.

“Boys don't ask their girl relatives for help with Math.” he said briskly, “That would be the same thing as telling them, they are better then us.”

“You related to Sannah?” I asked, disinterestedly. I slowed down to a walk, but could feel the need for more air in my lungs. My hand gripped the inhaler in my pocket. I desperately wanted to use it, but not in front of him.

“Yeah, she's my cousin.” he said.

He made another face and pulled out a notebook. I touched the inhaler again. But stubbornly refused to pull it out. He flipped the notebook open to a random page, which was filled with Ms. Baxter's crisp handwriting.

“I have to have all of these done by tomorrow.” he sighed, “And to tell the truth, I haven't the slightest idea how to do half of them.” I felt a grin tugging against the corner of my mouth. But I refused to let him see me smile. The problems were all rather simple.

“Sure, I'll help.” I said coolly, “You want to come to my house?”

“How about the library?” he asked after a pause.

“Sure!” I said again. Inwardly I kicked myself for not thinking of the library first. It was the ideal location, not to far from either of our houses.

We walked towards the library in silence. Then he reached under his sweatshirt and produced a small fanny pack.

“You won't be disturbed working with the weird boy?” he asked. He looked uncomfortable. He probably didn't expect me to agree, and now is trying to dump me! I thought.

“Who is weirder then me?” I asked lightly. Once more I could feel a smile tugging at my mouth. But this time it was pained one.

“Me!” he said, he tapped the pack, then cleared his throat, “I have diabetes.” I paused for a second and stared at him. His gaze dropped.

“What did you just say?” I whispered. He shuffled his feet awkwardly

“You don't have to help me if you don't want too.” he muttered, “I'll understand. I should have told you sooner. I know some people don't like working with health problem people.” I pulled the inhaler out of my pocket.

“Well, I have asthma.” I said slowly. I held up the inhaler.