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Eight Letters. Three Words.

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Chapter Two

A Mid Summer Nightmare

 

"I can't believe you aren't in it with me!" I exclaimed indignantly.

“I told you I forgot I had free period,” Ethan shut up, his eyes finally resting on my pissed off expression.

We were walking back from the Principal’s office, where he’d given us an update on our lack of good conduct at school. Yet instead of addressing both of us, Principle Hedger had found it necessary to single me out. My good sense of humor didn’t act in my benefit, reason why he has strongly advised me to take part on some afterschool community and service, to prove what a nice and helpful young girl I can be.  

I punched the locker, leaving a faint red marking on my knuckles, “I can already picture my mother’s face when she finds out,”

Ethan grimace with good reason. “It won’t be that bad, and I can always drive you back home after ‘m done with practice,”

I frowned at him, and kept my fingers poking his eyes, “Right,”

Ethan laughed, “What class do you have now?”

“English, so I’d better run,”

He didn’t offer to walk me there, and I didn’t ask. Every minute he walked beside me, my anger increased a notch. I took a deep breath as I walked into the class, which always stinks of that able-to-make-your-nose-bleed-way-to-sweet Abercrombie perfume. What do these people do? I asked myself, marinade themselves in it?

English was one of the many classes I had alone. I sat near the back, next to a window, kept to myself, and only spoke when the teacher asked me, or when any of the students needed to be reminded, what little pieces of shit they were.  

I dumped by bag on the table, pulled out my chair, sat, and prayed for sleep to take over. However, this didn’t happen.

“Everyone listen up,” called Ms. Yalow, while tapping her long chipped nails against the white board.

I kept my head resting on my bag, listening to her as a background noise, “Throughout the following month we will be studying Shakespeare,” she told us eagerly, not aware that any of us shared her enthusiasm. “We will start today with a brief introduction of the subject and probably end next semester,”

I sighed and controlled myself from not smashing my head against the table, as it would probably just give the others a better excuse to label me as a freak.

“Shakespeare,” continued Ms. Yalow, “What is the first thing that comes in to your mind when I say this?” she asked.

The girls from the front row began scribbling like mad, leaving the rest of us with no other chance than to raise our hands.

"Hatred," answered Katelyn Cross from the third row, surprising me when her response wasn’t sex related in the least. Ms. Yalow nodded in acceptance, waiting expectantly for more answers.

Emma Robson's hand shot upwards, "Sadness."

“Romeo and Juliet?” called another.

“The human feelings.”

The crackle of words mixed together in the class whizzed around me. Defeated I laid my head in my arms.

"Love," snickered a voice behind me, causing me to flinch. I didn’t have to turn around to know that Brendan Matthews’ narrowed eyes were focused solely on me.

I cursed quietly at him.

Ms. Yalow smiled approvingly, “Indeed, Mr. Matthews’ you’re quite right,”

I snorted, which brought Ms. Yalow’s eyes to rest on me, “Miss. Foster please sit up, I don’t want you missing out on the class,”

I sat up, only to lay back down as soon as she turned around. A soft chuckling sound caught my attention, and I found my eyes meeting a pair of grey ones. Dylan Miller winked from the opposite side of the room. I ignore him.

The class passed slowly. The teacher would ask questions to which the same people would give answers to. It was only at one point while I was on the verge of succumbing to sleep, that they began discussing a Summer Nights Dream and Dylan raised his hand to answer, when I actually paid attention.

The teacher had asked for someone to describe the character of Puck in the play, and not only did Dylan describe Puck, but all the other characters in the play explaining the relationships and the importance of each character as the play developed.

None of the other students could have cared less about this, but I was surprised as I realized that the ball-kicker might use his only brain cell sometimes. I was looking at him closely, biting my pencil, when I saw Katelyn Cross turn around and blow him a kiss. He winked back at her.

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Eight Letters. Three Words - Ch. 2

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