Don't say a word.

Zoe is young and free, living life to the full. Whatever enters her minds, she says it, sometimes without even thinking. It's only when she sees her best friend Phoebe - the most popular girl in the school - cheat on a test, that she is prepared not to let this one slide. But spilling minor secrets just might lead her into something more...
Read to find out!
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*This is for the 'Silence and Secrets' Competition, so please like and fav if you think it deserves it (as only a few movellas unfortunately are going to be shortlisted), and most importantly - whether you like it or not - please leave some feedback, because I'd love to know how I could improve for the future! Thanks :)*

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2. "How could you."

The next day, I trudge to school gloomily, my hands tucked into my jean pockets. Phoebe said she'd meet me at school because she has to go and do her english homework which she forgot about. Tough luck.

Scuffing my shoes along the kerb, I then decide to cross over to the school gates, people already crowding around the entrance even though it's only gone 8:00. I spot Klara and Amy at the gate, adjusting their hair in the side mirror of a stranger's car.

"Hey," I say as I approach them.

"Zoe, babe," Amy calls out, "Come and help me do my make-up, it looks totally naff." I take the brush she hands over to me and I attempt at 'fixing up her foundation'. To be honest, I'm not a fan of wearing a ton of make-up, but you can clealy tell Amy is - she's covered in it. Plus, Klara isn't half as bad.

"So, what do you think?" they both ask me.

"Way too much," I say, without thinking.

"You what?" Amy shouts, moving her head closer to mine.

"Er...I just said that some people think you wear way too much, but I think they're just over-exaggerating."

"You're totally right," Amy agrees, admiring her handy-work in the mirror. Gosh, she's so vain. I'm lucky I managed to cover up my mistake - that wouldn't have gone down too well otherwise.

 

I leave them to their make-up, telling them I'm dissappearing to find Phoebe, who's probably hiding away in an English room attempting the questions sheet for homework on Shakespeare. I know, some people find it confusing, but she only does because she refuses to listen to the teacher and just chats to her 'girlfriends' around her in class.

Passing the many rooms along the corridor, I secretly hope she won't see me from within one. I walk quickly, my legs a blur, and I'm just past the last room when out of the corner of my eye I see a head poke out.

"Oi, Zoe!" I hear Phoebe call out. I can recognise her strong american accent. "I'm over here!"

But I carry on walking, before she can stop me in my tracks. I'm about to do something I should have done as soon as I knew about it. Now is my chance.

But Phoebe won't give up. "Zoe, where do you think you're going?" she shouts above the crowds, running after me and grabbing my shoulder. I stop for a minute, examining the hatred in her eyes, the bloody-redness of them seeping out from behind the innocent blue. Oh, I know she won't like me for this. Not at all. But nothing can stop me this time.

I continue my long, determined strides towards the maths room, Phoebe in tow behind. She keeps asking me questions and calling my name, but I ignore her, not letting her words ruin my train of thought.

"Speak!" she wails. But why should I speak? Why should I let those patient words tumble out of my mouth when they needn't be? Words should be used wisely, and should be kept within until they are ready to be let out. Those words, those words I've been thinking about all night, are there. They are bold and vivid in my mind, on the tip of my tongue. And whilst they repeat over, repeat over, Phoebe repeats her words over, and over.

And then I yank the door-handle open, pushing myself into the room where the 'examination supervisor' sits at her desk.

"Phoebe cheated!" I shout, my voice surprisingly calm but rushed. "I have proof."

I lift up my phone, an image of Phoebe and the paper slid across her knees. I hadn't told her I'd taken it. Why would I? But I can feel the anger bubbling inside her as she stands beside me, her lips pursed.

When she speaks her voice is shaky at first and then as sour as lemon.

"How could you."

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