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Cicada Nights
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me_irl
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Rachael might have been more comfortable just standing there silently, evaporating molecule by molecule into the ether.

The problem was that a lot of things happened in quick sequence and even one of those things alone would have been a lot to process. Another girl appeared at Rachael's shoulder. Yasmin- Yaz- was someone else Rachael rather trusted but she'd asked a question that needed an answer. Needed decisiveness, and Rachael needed a moment to dredge any of that particular quality up from the pasty recesses of her head. No time to figure it out. Another another girl who was this time unfamiliar, also talking to Felicia. Would they all be sharing the same table? No time to figure it out. Another another another girl who was maybe familiar. She'd managed to insert herself adjacent to their group with a loud noise that grated on the ears like metal making love to metal. Her face was something Rachael was vaguely intimidated by though she didn't know why, had they had an argument, had she been some kind of bully? No time to figure it out. The most another-est of faces, this one a boy, asking for shelter from the swarms elsewhere in the cafeteria. Rachael sympathized with that, that she could figure out somehow from the mess of static her brain had scrambled into.

There was a lot happening at once, specifically, a lot of unfamiliar faces all a mite too close. Rachael felt a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. She had taken her Zoloft already, she was pretty sure. Because she was at least still breathing normally, as in, not so loud it could be clearly heard.

Her ears rung for a second. Maybe silence, or the echo of everyone else having spoken still reverberating.

Eventually, Rachael answered Yaz.

"Y-yeah. We could?" Not the most confident statement ever uttered. Rachael stuffed herself at the table bench, in as tiny an iteration of personal space as she could manage, arms virtually fusing to her side and her lunch sack half crushed between her own thighs.

'Uh. Hi. Guys.'

Was a thing she didn't actually say, her mouth was welded together with artisan precision. She glanced around. She'd probably left too much space on either side of herself for someone to slot themselves right next to her stiff-as-a-rotting-wood-board body. She tried to dismiss that nerve frying thought from mind and come up with something else to say.

"Writing wise...? Felicia?" She glanced sort of Felicia's way.
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It's An Inky Dinky Doo Da Lunchtime · P.J. Hobbs Senior High School
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