The moment I returned home yesterday, I immediately flipped my laptop on and began writing. Since the competitors in the writing contest only had one month to write our stories, I needed to get through my first draft as soon as possible. In no time at all, though, my bedtime hit, and I ended up skipping through dinner.

All I ended up with was, “I never liked the Jainus Orphanage. We obeyed a strict lifestyle with only the bare necessities. Still, we had a family. A pseudo-family, is what Lilis Jainus called it. She acted as our older sister. I never believed it was a pseudo-family though. If anything, I felt as if it were the only real family I had.

Things started to change when Leonas, the older brother of our pseudo-family, was taken away. The military of Arundal needed as many soldiers it could get its hands on. Sadly, they saw our brother as fit enough for service.”

As I wrote, the key I used the most spelled out, “backspace,” just showing how well I did with the storytelling. Nothing I put down sounded completely correct, except for those two paragraphs, and even then, I still couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong.

So, I began stumbling through the rest of the day, putting off my writing for when I got together with Itra again. Her advice would most likely carry me out from the broken depths of my inability to form proper paragraphs.

I plodded through the crowded halls of Taireah High as a few people chuckled in my direction. I fumbled through my red uniform, completely flustered at the idea of being snickered at. My head spun, as I tried to figure out why people would look at me the way they were.

Finally, the answer came when I happened to come across the ever-cross looking Gentrei commented, “Your pants are on backwards.”

Help comes from many places, but I never once thought that Gentrei would provide me it. Of course, she scowled as she scanned me from head to toe, but her strident voice brought a rudely delivered slight of advice.

Now that I knew the reason for the staring people in the halls, I made haste to the bathroom. I didn’t want my morning blunder to be on display any longer, so I hurried into a stall to fix it up. What a horrible way to start the day…

“Hey, are you okay, Illate?” Harry asked, sitting across from me at the lunch table, “Why are you slumping over the table?”

I let a groan flow from my mouth, as I watched Harry writing down his story, while I couldn’t get past the second paragraph. Since even Harry could write without a problem, I assumed that Gentrei was also speeding through her story like him. Though she didn’t sit with us this time, since her friends weren’t gone like the last time.

“I can’t get through the second paragraph,” I shared, “nothing’s forming correctly.”

“Really? Maybe I can take a look,” Harry offered, “I might have some advice.”

“You? Give advice?” I questioned, “Are you capable of that?”

“O-of course I am!” Harry replied loudly, “Come on! Open your laptop! Let me show you!”

Harry picked himself up and placed himself beside me, opening my bag to set my laptop in front of me.

“Start writing, hurry up,” Harry urged me, “let me see your story!”

The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

“Fine, I will,” I caved in, “I just need to pull it up.”

Powering on my computer, I opened the file where I stored my stories. Clicking on the document where I stored my first draft, my computer began displaying the two paragraphs I made over the period of about five hours.

“Hmm,” Harry began reading, “well, these sentences that can be put together feel so separated, it’s like you’re jumping, kind of…but focus on that later! I have three steps to follow when writing, that’s, hit the ball, get the homerun, and keep running around the track!”

“U-uhuh…” I didn’t understand what Harry was trying to say, “so you want me to ignore the changes I can make?”

“That’s right, ignore it,” Harry answered, “just get all the words down, and save the editing for when you’ve got all the ideas down.”

“I-I guess that could work,” I mumbled, ‘but still…”

“Hey, look,” Harry looked me straight in the eye, “it’s not like you have to pump out a masterpiece in an instant, just write, then focus on molding what you’ve got later.”

My gaze went down to the floor, as I contemplated his advice. I didn’t expect actual advice from Harry, but there he was, talking like a wiseman. Meanwhile, I just slumped around waiting to use up my study session time with Itra instead of actually doing anything to prepare for it.

“Thanks,” I told Harry, “You’re right, I should just keep writing. Then, I could have Itra check it later, and then we would be able to get more done.”

“Who’s Itra?” Harry asked, lifting one of his bushy brown eyebrows up, “I’ve never heard you talk about this person.”

“Oh, uh,” I forgot I hadn’t told him about Itra before,” she’s just, er, a friend.”

“So this person is a she, huh?” Harry leered, “One that you’ve been keeping secret from me too?”

“I-it’s not like that,” I tried to defend myself, “I just didn’t think that telling you about her was that b-big of a deal!”

“Ah, oh, no,” Harry put on a dramatic act, placing the back of his wrist against the start of his hairline and looking up to the ceiling, “Woe is me,” he went, “casted away by my only friend, for his blinded love of a person I hadn’t even heard of!”

“Q-quit it!” I pleaded, “I just said it’s not like that…!”

Harry flashed a toothy grin, “Alright, I’ll stop, focus on that story for now then,” he said before returning to his seat and working on his own story.

I did a lot of eating before I started working though, since I missed yesterday’s dinner, my stomach demanded more food. Meanwhile, Harry consumed very little food, for the first time this year, and focused on his story.

Perhaps, Harry had a side I never knew of. Of all the time I’ve known him, I never pegged him as a hard worker or a writer. Though he did both of those things right in front of me. Maybe he had a lot to do, since he was working alone, rather than with a partner.

Despite not acting much like he cared for writing, Harry, when I looked at his green eyes focused on his bulky laptop’s screen, I saw a person with more ability than I. Seeing him like that, I felt a little lower than usual. It was as if I had found out that my efforts to become a better writer were for nothing. I might have been growing jealous. Though, it’s Harry I’m talking about, he’s probably writing a bunch of nonsense in the end.

The school’s library held no Itra in sight. Instead, when I approached the table, I found a note in her neat handwriting. She left a set of papers there as well.

On the note, I read, “I won’t be able to stay here for our session today, but I have a few notes to help you as you write your first draft.”

Her two note sheets that she left held a very appealing set of notes with a few doodles to make it look a little more welcoming. Among the many fancy text boxes she made, I found, “Just write! Don’t stress over the little things before you’ve made the big thing that fits in!” and, “Deliver your details smoothly, you might bore your readers if you just lump them all and toss them a big ball of straight information.” along with, “Make sure you take breaks, don’t tire yourself out.”

With her genius, Itra prepared a list of things I would need to look out for, and even found the right words to cheer me up as I wrote. Despite our short time knowing each other, she already knew the things I would have trouble with, and prepared a list of things to help me through them.

At the end of the page, I found, “I’m really sorry I couldn’t make today’s study session, maybe we could reschedule one again?”

I already knew my answer to her question, and I didn’t even need time to think about it. My answer was, “I would love to.”