Sliding the phone underneath the desk. Pretending to be invested in math class. Who is Troy Holland anyway? He claims he is not even Human and that he knows of the pen and its' power. And now he wants me to be worried about, what? Exactly. I suppose I expected more apathy from the police.

Looking back up. Feigning interested on what the teacher, Miss Taylia Goldman, is saying and pointing to the overhead. I notice Charles' glancing at me. He chose to sit next to me. Truth is that I've never really had any friends. Most of the kids like to show off their brand of cruelty in the form of harassment. In which the harassers' behavior is some kind of initiation that wins them some sort of social power.

"Phone," Charles mouths.

She won't take it away. She'll give me three nice warnings, if she catches me, and then to save me "the humiliation" by talking to me after class.

"Quentin," Miss.Goldman noticed I am not paying attention, "I hope we don't have our phones out."

Quickly opening up the calculator. And lifting my phone up, "Sorry Miss. Goldman. I was using the calculator."

I am not easily embarrassed even if some classmates snicker. Miss. Goldman frowns at the classroom, "Remember class what I have said about respecting one another. We are allowed to use our tools in class. Thank you Quentin for being so brave and sharing."