prologue

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The first time Ashton Irwin pulled that first piece of paper out of his notebook, he had no clue what he was going to write. However, he did not feel like paying attention to the lesson before him. Instead, Ashton spent the entire class period writing the very first note. It was the one that started it all.

Dear Teacher,
As you talk before us, one cannot help but get distracted. You are almost perfect. Your lips are that pale, chapped pink. Your style is classy, and you have even taken the liberty of removing your lip ring for this job. You happen to be the quintessential AP English teacher; you are good-looking, smart (not as smart as me), and your vocabulary is that of your average dictionary. However, there is that one flaw. You never look at me. My hair, my clothes, nor my lips. It's all there, but you never take the opportunity to look. I dress nice for you, but that never matters. You have never spoken or made eye contact with me. You focus on my potentially successful academic career. You know people by their grades and not their face. Here's the thing, Teacher, your eyes are that crystal clear blue that turn into that dark teal when you get frustrated with the class. Your eyes are unlike any other. It's as if they can mold to any shade of blue. Now if I may ask you, what color are mine? I just want you to look at me. I want you to know more than my name, my grade point average, and my essay titles.

dear teacher, :: lashton auWhere stories live. Discover now