from my creative writing class: an original short piece

Pages from his notebook were scattered across the desk. The edges of the papers were jagged and uneven with the holes in them, as notebook pages often were. 

“You can stop looking at me like that.” The pencil broke from his tightening grip on it.

“You said this was a study session. You look like you’re trying to maul your desk right now.” The other boy, seated on the floor said, his pen paused in midair with his hand attached to it, carefully observing the face of the boy at the desk.

“Yeah well, maybe I should actually maul something so I don’t get bronze in Swordfighting.” Desk boy growled. 

“Bronze isn’t-” 

“If you say ‘Bronze isn’t bad at all!’ I will slice your head off with my mind.” That shut Floor boy up real quick. 

Both of them felt that the rules of the magic school didn’t apply to them. Things like No inflicting pain magic on anyone on or off school grounds while you attend the university, unless your life is in immediate danger from the being(s) you wish to inflict on. 

Floor boy couldn’t resist rolling his eyes dramatically and using one of the Desk boy’s favorite phrases:

“Whatever mate…”