Her counselor drains the tense air from her apartment, pulling out an envelope. Órfhlaith's bottom lip is still hanging a bit. It shuts as she inspects the letter. Her mouth pushes into a grin.

"I do really," The counselor interrupts herself with a jig. "Apologize, you know, for going through your mail."

Órfhlaith throws out an "It's...alright." to shut the woman's jaw.

"But, you know, it's just that you never pick them up unless I do!"

"Do you reckon there's more? This one's just...it's a funny thing." Órfhlaith whistles through her grin.

"Alright, I'll go ahead and check for ya!"

Órfhlaith's intrigue coerces her to do more than just smile at it. She tears it open, the counselor barging in again as she helps the paper from it's wrapping. 

"Nope! Not at all." The counselor sits beside Órfhlaith, reading her smile. "So, a secret admirer?"

"I'm starting to think...I'm really starting to think it's so."

The counselor's eyes amble a few paragraphs behind Órfhlaith. She frowns. "That...really isn't very nice!" Waiting on a rejoinder, the counselor continues to read, but she realizes where there should be a familiar voice, there's sporadic gagging. Playing the shepherd, the counselor attempts to come to aid, but with the contraction of her stomach, Órfhlaith upchucks what would've been breakfast.

They both take a minute to admire the liquid coup.

"I'm...really sorry you're getting these...who would send those?"

"I won't worry about it much," A morsel of bile drowns a bit of Órfhlaith's voice. "You've said worse." She spits it out, only missing the counselor by an inch.

Ed's eyes go over the classroom with a fine-tooth comb, combing his chin with his fingers. In between his inner monologue, or, say, "lectures" on The Dire Situation Of The Human Condition, he laments about having to go through this process again.

For every new, foreign room with its batch of new, foreign faces, Ed takes it upon himself to gauge who'll be his enemy, who will be his friend, and who is the most dimwitted son of a bitch in there. Don't bother telling him that this makes him look like a wild animal, he'll take it with pride.

A new kid spills in. He notes the hair that beats the side of her face with each step she takes, the way the orange hair dye clashes with her dark skin, and besides from rejoicing that he isn't the only black person in the class, he's absolutely blank on any type of analysis. 

He can see another kid leering at him from his peripheral, he doesn't care. But his mind runs back to when he first saw her face and he recognizes some kind of worry. As he sees her practically throwing herself onto a chair, he smiles a bit.

Now, the teacher takes the front of the room,

"Alright, Good morning. Good morning, I'm Mr. Armaros." 

Two "Good morning"s get thrown back to him.

"Uh, let's see, if you all haven't heard, Mr. Chaskes won't be able to teach Social Studies for... let's just say a very, very long time." He takes a moment to count all of the students in class and makes a playful moue. "So, there's about seven of you in here, so it wouldn't hurt to do this, I suppose. Let's...get into a circle!"

The body count doesn't bend to his will at first, but then, one by one they all form a tight triangle. Mr. Armaros notices the missing link in the chain immediately, sitting in her chair with her smirk.

"Hello? Miss!" She suddenly rises and finds her place in the chain as if to pacify him.

Hands interlock, oiling each other's hands with sweat, lotion, and the unspeakable. It's as if they were in fourth grade again and there weren't three to four years before they were to be shat out into society as adults.

"To get to know each other better and, you know, generate teamwork and positivity, we'll be introducing ourselves one by one." He straightens his posture and clears his throat. "Hi! I'm Adwr Armaros! I'm currently in—such and such—year of high school, except, I'm your teacher, so that's...anyway, you'll say your age, your favorite subject, and your hobby."

Picking up on the silence that came after that sentence, the first kid on the left of Armaros begins, "I'm Winthrop Saffron and—"

Ed's mind immediately gets to picking the kid apart. Winthrop Saffron...I really wonder if that guy's parents were insecure about having these, like, really bland names, so they decide to compensate by giving this kid a dumb name. Winthrop. That's a name an old British guy has! Not this weird white kid with a Pink Floyd shirt. Also, wow, generic Pink Floyd shirt! I wonder if he even knows a Pink Floyd song. I don't, actually.

That's the peak of critique, everyone would assure you. By the time he finished that thought, two students had already paid their dues. Now it was the mystery girl's turn.

She wore an odd simper that could be easily mistaken for a frown through her braids. Lifting her head, the simper grows into leer before she says, "Hey, everyone. My name is...this can be a mouth full, so listen, please. My name is Órfhlaith Mahoney. You can call me Orlai, if it's just too much." 

"Oh, wow, Órfhlaith! Pretty exotic!" She nods at the teacher, praying he'd shut the fuck up, but he continues, "Is that from...someplace in Africa, like—"

"It's Irish. Irish." 

And from that moment on, Ed made up his mind about her.

Kids spill out of the hallways, creating a moving labyrinth of skin. The only thing stopping Ed from analyzing every moving piece is the jabbering that overpowered even the most mundane of thoughts. He leaned against the wall waiting for a set of orange braids and a weak simper. And for a moment, he nearly forgets this when he sees someone approaching.

"Finally caught you," He gushes. He presses his face so close that the only space left is from the arches of their noses. "You never come to dismissal this early."

Ed shoulders him back a bit. "Brush your teeth, Tullough! I'm looking for this girl--"

"Girl?"

"I mean, yeah, I know. I'm looking for a girl that I met in class, she--"

"I'm not doing threesomes, 'specially not with a girl!"

"Oh, shut up!" His face remakes into something sentimental. "...I finally met someone I could be friends with."

"Yeah, uh-huh, be friends. That's what the last john told me about his wife."

"What...what are you even...?"

"I'm joking. Obviously. So...what is she like? No, scratch that, why are you waiting until...right now to do this?"

"I get it, I'm dumb."

"I obviously didn't say that, Edward."

"It's already hard to talk to her in class, thought this would be easier."

Tullough feigns looking out into the crowd, looking like a soldier's mourning wife. "You probably missed her."

"Jeez, could you move?"

Tullough squeezes in between two girls and Ed. There's an awkward trade of looks as Tullough, clearly being pressed to death, smiles at a scowling Ed.

Tullough's grin slips. "I can look with you and fuck off when you find her." 

"...Are you jealous or something?"

"...Or something. You've been with me for six months and you still can't tell when I'm screwing with you."

"Sorry, I'm just...it's really hard for me to find friends. And, it's not like I don't care about you, it's just that...people my age have at least two other friends!"

"I know, I know. What does she look like?"

"Uh, she has weird orange braids. One braid has this...gem thing? It's hanging at the bottom of it. And she's wearing these black baggy pants with these--"

"Oh, I've seen that chick. She sits behind me in Biology. Something Mahoney."

"Órfhlaith... Mahoney."

About five minutes of the same old moving flesh labyrinth, Tullough pecks Ed on the cheek and weasels his way out. Ed stretches his arm, but quickly recoils before Tullough sees. He decides to abort the mission and head home.

That is until he spots her in the crowd as he leaves school grounds. He glances at her from afar, hoping she'll meet his eyes that way, but it poses unlikely. She's preoccupied with her phone shouldered to her ear. Ed scurries a few bodies beside her. He was determined to get near her but undetermined to do any ounce of work by talking. 

An opening arrives. Órfhlaith Mahoney has put away her phone. Her signature smile still worn as if it didn't hurt her. Moving along with the droves of people, Ed swallows his spit and fixes his lips to say something. "Hey...! Uh, you!" It doesn't reach her. "Órfhlaith? Orlai?"

She stops as someone bustles past her. Órfhlaith looks around and eventually her eyes land on Ed as someone bumps into him. He saunters closer, waving while avoiding the breathing, walking hazards. "Hm. Hey, there." It almost comes from her lips like a whimper. Órfhlaith draws him over to the grass, away from the sidewalk.

Órfhlaith presses her thumb against her teeth. "The name was Edward E. Rhames, am I wrong?"

"Uh, no, you're not wrong, but just call me Ed, please!"

"Okay, then...Ed, Ed, Ed," She murmurs for habit. Then her voice rises again. "Hey, Ed. Where's your house?"

"Uh...Poppy Grove!"

"Yeah, I've seen that place, one of my buddies is over there."

Ed digests the word "buddies" before Órfhlaith says, "I have a pretty tight curfew, so if there's any business and... and, or, whatnot, you should just come over to my place."

Ed is now digesting the word "curfew." "...Alright."

"You and your parents wouldn't mind it. Am I wrong?" 

"No...! No way! No?"

Her smile falters. "Oh, so you're not coming?"

"I meant... 'No' as in...they won't mind... and I don't mind, either, so...!"

Órfhlaith's smile takes its place again. She jerks her head to the sidewalk. Its population has thinned a bit, so they take to it. Ed's shaken. He really had misread her.

"Why do you like being by yourself all the time? You're always quiet, too."

"Always...well why are you always by yourself all the time? You're quiet, too."

"...'Cause people are idiots. Everyone in this school's an idiot."

Órfhlaith spins to him and he corrects himself. "Not you! Not you. And not my b--well, I decided to be friends with you, 'cause you look smart!" That's half true.

"Was it the hair?"

"Ah-ha! No, I just thought you thought the same way as me."

"...I really don't. I think the most insightful...most unique... all of those types of people are in this school with rest. You just have to find them. And I'm friends with a lot of them."

"Oh." is all that can come out of Ed's mouth.

"And, hey, maybe you could be one of them."

"Yeah! Yeah, sure! Sure."

"The reason why I'm quiet is that... I just don't know what to say at all, really."

They arrive at a gate, which secured a set of small apartment buildings behind it. As she opened it and walked past in, all Ed could think about was how odd this girl was to him. 

Her voice akin to a whisper, saying words like, "And I'm friends with a lot of them," and sitting alone at lunch. All coated with a sense of pride. He just thought she was some passive, possibly insecure teenage girl. This wouldn't be a massive bother to anymore except Ed. He truly did misread her, but she wasn't a complex thing. 

"Right?" Órfhlaith beams back at him, apartment door swung open.

"Uh, could you repeat that?"

"It's pretty befitting, huh?"

"Befi—"

"It's nice. Am I wrong?"

Ed nods his head, but then quickly interrupts it by shaking it. Órfhlaith's smirk pulls high and she draws him in.

Simple couches dressed in leather meet Ed's eyes when he looked to the left, a simple, outdated TV sitting on a dresser on the right as if to spite the former's modernity. In between both, a carpet that stopped at the small kitchen that sat beside a table and its chairs. Past the kitchen stood a of hallway with four rooms. That's where the apartment ended.

Órfhlaith cautiously closes the door behind the both of them. "Uh, go ahead and sit." Ed does.

"So...just living on your own, huh?"

"Ah, that's a yes and a no," Her words drag into the kitchen, followed by the sounds of pots and pans clouting each other. "I have an auntie, but...she's a bit of a bat. You won't see her."

"Oh, uh, I have an auntie, too!"

"That's cool. Uh, I'm not all that...nifty at cooking, you want a...uh, french toast?"

"...What?"

"You know," Órfhlaith peaks from over the counter. "Like, bread, toast, cinnamon, eggs. And it's just...like toast...with cinnamon. And egg."

"I...I know what you said, but, why are you cooking for me?"

Órfhlaith stops and presses her thumb against her teeth again. "You're are my friend." She shrugs where there should be a "Am I wrong?"

And just like that, as she turns her back to him...he starts crying.

Órfhlaith initially feigns ignorance, but as the hacking grew louder, she slid the pan off the stove and tip-toed over to Ed, whose head was burrowed in his palms.

She keeps her distance. "...What's up? I have tissues if you want them."

Ed raises his head, face all overlaid with his own tears and snot. The latter he decides to wipe with his sleeve. Órfhlaith couldn't mask her disgust.

"You're, you're, you're..." He starts up.

"I am...I am, I am."

"You're just so nice...? Why?!"

"I couldn't tell you."

"I'm a piece of shit!" 

"You are."

Ed stands up, shocked, but still preoccupied in his own misery. Órfhlaith flattens her lips for reverence. "You are what you say you are, so..."

"No...you don't get it. Do you even know...what I was thinking about you?"

"I should cover my ears and wait for your inner self-saboteur to go away."

"No! Listen!" The water works have returned, Ed continues. "I thought you were some...stupid mindless, quiet teenager or something! I wanted you to be...like, my own satellite friend, or whatever!"

"Well...that's obviously not going through."

"...I'm not a good friend."

Órfhlaith goes over his words and then her eyes dimly light up. She sits next to him with an envelope in her hand.

"Hey. I'm not good, either."

"What does that mean?"

"This letter says so. You'll want to see it."

She slips it into his hands and he goes over it. Órfhlaith waits for another hysterical response, but Ed just blankly looks at her with tears in his eyes.

"Most of it isn't true, but the school wouldn't have any trouble saying, 'Yeah, she went ahead and did that.' All because of something I did a long time ago. I was fourteen."

"...What did you do, then?"

"I'll tell you."

As she whispers it into his ear, his teeth sink into his bottom lip and his eye brows furrow. She pulls away, stares past the walls and chuckles, "...We're both bad. We learned a lot about each other, we did."

Ed responds with a sniffle. Still off in space, Órfhlaith mutters, 

"We can redeem ourselves. We can be redeemed together as bad friends. I'll help you and you'll help me."

Too backed into moral corner, he replies, "...With what?"

"Help me find this letter...and I'll do whatever you want me to."

Considering he had just outed himself as a sociopath, you can guess how he responded.