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She’ll sit at her desk until class is over, then she will quietly get up and swiftly leave the room. I know she won’t get in there way, no matter how much she wants to, she’s just one of those people. She’d feel so bad if she held them back, and if she felt bad, then I’d be the guilty one. Actually, it’s sometimes hard to tell with her, she might be avoiding them as to not get in the way, or she could have missed this microscopic world war three all together. She can be so absent minded at times.
The bell rings and she’s out of her seat faster than you can say London, she must have noticed. Flan is at her side in an instant and they walk of together in the direction of the lockers. Which leaves me sat on a desk by myself feeling rather intimidated by a red Spanish file four times my size. I best go after her; it’s not good for the conscience to be away from the spinner for too long.
When I arrive back on Pocky’s shoulder, she seems to relax her body a little. She doesn’t know I’m here, or rather fate has her condole me, but that’s just the effect we have on people. When we are away from our spinners (or as you would know them, humans) for any length of time they get anxious, and eventually begin to act selfishly, without guilt or shame, and if we stray for too long then the spinners mind will become corrupted.
If you kill a human’s conscience, you kill their mind also. Evil humans aren’t really evil humans, but simply spinners with a blue conscience rather than a red one. I myself am proud to say that my skin is tinted red and my hat practically glows a deep maroon pink. The final thing you must know about us, is that we are not the books which stock a library, we are simply the title. The title influences every story, but with time the characters grow on their own, and it is the characters that bring the story to life. So you simply MUST understand that I am not the one you wish to hear so much about, I am no character in this story. I am but the narrator, the narrator of Pocky, and what you are about to whiteness (and I do declare you to be the first and the last) is...
...the Inner Heart.
So here is a part of pocky and her story, which will hopefully tell you a bit about her.

Cripes, I can’t believe I’m late for school again! Flan’ll be here soon and I’m not even dressed. God why are these dresses so hard to get on. Oh she’s here... Cripes, erm “come in!” She knows where the spare key is, right? “Flan?” why don’t people think that you can’t reach a zip that’s at the back of you? Ugh. “Need some help?” And here she is. How can she look so good in this stupid dress? How did she even get it on by herself? “Um...” why is it that whenever she giggles at me like that I lose my train of thought? I feel so impish. “Don’t you mind?” I turn round as I say this, twisting the dress somewhat, and revealing my rather skimpy underwear. Flan turns bright red. It’s so cute when she does that. “Why would I mind, dummy.” She walks over to me, taking dainty steps, when she reaches me she picks up the corners of my dress and pulls it back up over my shoulders. She walks around to the back of me and pulls the zip up. The dress still feels baggy, even with the zip done up. “God Poc you’re so skinny.” She putts one hand either side of my waist and pushes in. “see?” Flan’s not fat, but she’s not too skinny like me. I do eat like any other Pearson, in actual fact I probably eat more, but I just don’t put on any weight. “Come on Flan lets go or we’ll be late.” She just gives me a look, one that she gives me every morning like this. “I’ll grab some fruit on the way out. Come on.” She rolls her eyes at me and we run down the stairs so fast that I miss the last two steps and trip over my own feet. Flan jumps over me, helps me up, and then hands me an apple from mum’s fruit bowl. She bought it in Spain. Today really is just like any other day. The only difference is that we’re at a new school. But were both in the same class. Once I’ve regained my balance, I open the door. I grab her school bag and she grabs mine. We step out on to the porch and set off towards the bus stop. There are some boys with the same school uniform as us; they look about our age too. I’m not as forward as Flan is. I tilt my head forward so that my fringe falls across my face.