Someone taps me on the shoulder. I jump, my pen sliding across the page and leaving me with a long black line through most of my description. Luckily it's still legible. I glance at whoever's behind me and them go straight back to my notepad, now doing an in depth description of the ivy that covers a large section of the wall. I don't know them.
"Who are you?" I ask the guy behind me, turning the page.
"I'm Calvin..." he says, as if he's going to say more but doesn't, trailing off as he stares at my page.
I slam the notepad shut.
"My name is Chancey Chaucer and I have O.W.S. Why are you reading that?"
I poke him when he doesn't answer. He blinks and shakes his head.
"Sorry. I have severe curiousity. What is that?" he says, gesturing to the notepad which I open and continue writing feverishly in.
"It's a description of the house," I say.
"It's quite good."
I don't look up but I can feel myself blushing. God, Chancey I think to myself. You don't like non constructive critique, you get disappointed when no one comments and you get embarrased by praise. Get over it! With that last thought, I poke myself with my pen.