“Every word must be important,” My new friend stated, “Each adjective must paint its own picture.

I observed her pouty face frowning with both her thin lips and azure eyes pointed at me.

“Are you even listening to me?” questioned Itra, “What are you even writing?”

Beaming, I replied with, “that’s a secret.”

“It’s another story, isn’t it,” she guessed, “I can check it for you.”

Each time she offered something, Itra became meek. She could blame that illusion on her upturned eyes. Since I could sense the strength of her offer though, I could tell that Itra didn’t feel meek.

“It’s a secret,” I repeated.

“Fine,” Itra relented, “just remember to put in the setting, you always forget those.”

My eyes slyly drifted from Itra to the peeling, wooden shelves of the library, and eventually the analog clock, which read eleven-thirty. We secluded ourselves in the non-fiction aisles, as my classmate took time out of her lunch to tutor me.

“Don’t forget to add introductions and explanations as well,” Itra reminded, “too many characters of yours pop up out of nowhere.”

“Yes,” I agreed to her suggestions.

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The two of us met yesterday, an hour before the time now, yet Itra showed to be the kind of person willing to go an extra mile for a stranger. This trait, I found admirable. She would make a good friend.

“You’re filling out the setting and introductions right now,” she accused, “aren’t you.”

I responded with reluctance, "yes..."

Her accusations fell on point, as if we’d known each other for years rather than an hour. She must be popular, if she can talk to people like me. Though she did have spells of shyness, which was most likely due to us being strangers.

“Just keep that in mind,” Itra advised, “Also, you should avoid using the word ‘was.’”

Silently, I glided my cursor back and removed a few blunders. No one will know if I assassinate the words, I’d thought.

“You used the backspace a scary amount of times,” she noted, “did you use that many?”

My inability to answer allowed Itra to draw her own conclusions.

“At least you caught them early,” Itra sighed, “can’t I take one peek at your story?”

I shook my head vigorously at the idea. No amount of pouting would sway me, I needed to get the practice in. But those eyes… that face…

Unable to take the pleading, I turned the computer around.

From behind the screen, I watched her expression morph from curiosity, to confusion, focus, then shock. Though, I knew better than to use emotion as an adjective. So instead, I watched her eyes go from sparkling, to crooked, squinted, and go wide. And her mouth went from a happy crescent, to an inverted form, squeezed together, then gaped.

“This is the conversation we had!” Itra exclaimed, astounded, “and you’ve improved! Though there’s a little bit you can do better.”

“It’s thanks to you,” I explained, “can you teach me more? It’s fun with you.”

“Oh, well,” she thought it over, “sure, how about we make some plans after school today?”

“Sounds like a plan.”