Squidward Is a F*ucking Mindreader

1. The Survey

*Becca's POV*

Everyone at Red Post Academy saw me in the same way. This became more apparent when the yearbook club came round giving everyone a survey to complete during second period.

The survey consisted of a list of words, each one an adjective, and next to them, blank boxes.

The aim was to write down the first person who came to mind when you saw the word on the page. For example, the third was smart and almost everyone put Jackie Roberts. Etc

It wasn't because we had stereotypical groups of people that we all wrote pretty much the same people. Our school prided itself on maintaining a "welcoming, accepting and tolerant community that was intent on growing the minds and personalities of the students, parents and faculty" what that really meant was they didn't get involved in fights in the courtyard. They let us fight it out and resolve our problems on our own, only getting involved when the fights got physical.

Rather, it was that we had all grown accustomed to the influence of media. Our school had a fully functioning newspaper that had all the latest information on everyone and everything that occured amongst the students and staff. And despite the school funding the paper, the teachers and staff were still subject to abuse via the paper.

However our beloved headmaster, the bubbly Mr Steely, thought it was best to have us all experience what media was like. The true ups and downs of being front-page news everytime you slipped up. The paper (appropriately titled "Which flags fly at Red Post" or more commonly "Which ffard") even ran ads for all sorts of school related things.

It was secretly run from an unknown location and the number of members of the printing club or paper club was unknown too. There was a rumour that there was only one member but that was soon stomped out when first hand recounts of two separate events appeared in the same edition of the paper. Anyone in school that day knew the events told were in too much detail for the writer to not have been there and yet they had happened simultaneously.

A copy of The Survey ran in the paper that week as well and soon news of the yearbook club's latest feat had spread across the entire campus, even reaching the uni students living on campus on the opposite side of the field.

Red Post Academy was split into three different schools, a primary school (ages 4 to 11), the main school (ages 11 to 18), and the university (ages 18 to 22). The uni was exclusively for main school students and they tended not to take gap years. Naturally, the academy campus was vast, spreading across hundreds of acres and main school was separated from the uni by a large field full of daisies and wild flowers. Along the edge, halfway between the main school and the uni sat the grand gateway, leading to the car park and mess of quaint cottages.

Red Post Academy was a large school and the campus took up much of the country side. Situaated close the the south coast of England, the school was far from any towns, and the nearest village was Red Post's "dorms", or as we all called the maze of cottage dorms, The Village.

The Village was the same as any real village, it had shops, supermarkets and most importantly, lots and lots of cottages. This was the only accomodation for miles and every student in attendance at both the main school and university lived in The Village. The school even had its own currency but I can get into that later. The point is, the school was big, grand, and fancy, as well as private and expensive.

The Survey, which I hope you haven't forgotten about, was only for main school students and, although uni students could buy the paper from any shop in The Village, they couldn't take the test.

Now, let it be known that I don't like people. Never will. They are invasive and mean and loud. But they're happy. And that's why I don't mix with them. Not that I don't like happiness. Because I do. But rather, I'm a threat to their happiness. And everyone at school can see it. Our head of school, who we all know really runs things around here, Ms Fletcher, placed me in a cottage on the edge of The Village, away from others because everyone can see it. It's clear as day.

There's only one word to describe me and it was the only word my name appeared next to on the survey.

...

Psychopath