Lunchtime is the only time of the day, in school at least, that you can release the inner spaz inside. I go overboard on some occasions. Aimee and I may decide to begin yelling stupid things at each other. We got better by the end of the year...a little...

Anyways, it doesn't help when the friend of yours sitting next to you is writing your favorite book. And when I say 'favorite', I don't mean one of those sappy excuses to tell people that you find much enjoyment in the book but there are fifty billion other books before it. I mean 'favorite'. The Sword of Truth series is the only thing better. Now you know I'm being honest. Something's better. But just by a titch. That titch is the fact that I'm madly in love with the main character, Richard. Yes, Richard...hehehe.

Goll, I'm going off subject a lot aren't I. Well, continuing (hopefully), I was anxious as always to read the updates on Sam and Brendan (the other creative genius)'s story. Sorry, it doesn't have a title as far as I know, so it's got to stick with the name I gave it: My Friend's Book. Just put up with it, kay? Good. Anyways, Brendan had been writing the story, so Sam didn't know what was in the book, but, knowing how far in love I had fallen with their creation, she let me read first. The story got really intense. (note: If I were to retell it, I'd be violating the 'copyright' on it.) I don't know if everyone gives the same reaction to really, abnormally creepy parts come in during books, where the main character is...changing...(you'll just have to read it yourself once it's published to find out exactly what kind of change I'm referring to, won't you?), but I couldn't breathe. Seriously. The oxygen was not flowing in and out of my lungs, I was dying, okay! Dying!

I tried to relax, in my mind, and calmly thought, All right Charlotte, it's just a book, just a...what kinda flappin' impossibilty of a schematic implosion in an asphyxiated bubble am I? JUST a BOOK! Kay, thought calming wasn't working. Had to go to plan b: Freak out.

I'm not sure if this happens to every girl when something 'exciting' is going on, but my hands began to move repeatedly back and forth, as if trying to help me breathe. Of course, with how fast they were moving, it seemed impossible to even create air, rather than just stirring it up. The point is, I wasn't getting much air flow. It didn't help that one of the authors was now done reading what she had to continue writing. Sam was flippin' too.

We both exchanged a glance...(I think dots are the only thing that can truly express a meaningful pause)...(this was a long pause)...I let out a total Aimee squeal (note: her squeal is so positively unique that it has it's own name) and began to move my hands, indeed, a little faster. Sam started to write, not fast enough. One slow word after another slow word. She was trying to control the spazzing moment. I don't blame her for not writing as fast as I wanted her to. I don't think there is a soul who could've, actually.

So, here are the two freakers and everyone is staring at us with really wierd expressions. Personality-less implosions...can't they appreciate whenever something like this happens? Life doesn't give you many oppurtunities to be loud and somewhat annoying. You have to make them.

Anyways, Sam was under a minor writer's block. She kept yeling out to people to help her with sentences. She would give an example and BOOM! Kayla gave the answer. Kayla. For the record, she was playing around with each sentence but it really worked every time she said something. This went on all effin lunch period. Sam finished about five minutes before the bell, so basically, it was twenty-five minutes of paniced death. Yes, you can panic when you're dead. The other kind of dead. Um...yeah...