Sorry, there's no teapot angst here Katie. : ) Maybe next time.

Philia

I sketch out a teapot underneath my percentage, trying to ignore the blaring ‘17, SEE ME!!’ scrawled out in red. My parents are going to kill me, I think absentmindedly. The teapot gains horns and a tail.

“What did you get?” a whiny voice hisses behind me. “What did you get?”

“Full marks,” I say casually, leaning back in my chair. Have some teeth, little teapot. Of course I don’t feel bad about what I really got.

“Really?” the voice asks, and I almost bristle at the disbelief.

“No,” I say cheerfully, instead, scribbling some spikes on the picture. My stomach twists as I see the mark again. Dead, dead, dead...

“What the hell is that?” Lauren asks, leaning on my shoulders and pointing at my teapot.

“A teapot,” I say, wondering if I should cover up the red ink.

“Like fuck it is,” she says, not even glancing at my grade. “Seriously, that thing is whacked.”

And suddenly, everything seems okay.