September sat at the back of her creative writing class.
"Since today is Friday, we will have a free write Friday. Please use this time to work on the project that is due next week. If you have any questions or would like me to edit anything for you, feel free to come by my desk and ask. You may listen to your music while you work, but you should not be sitting on your phones." Mrs. Jones finished up her beginning spiel before letting the students work on their projects.
The girl pulled out her composition book and black pen before popping in her headphones. She clicked on her playlist titled Writing and began to zone out. She was still having trouble deciding what she wanted her short story to be about. When she had texted her best friends about it, Cally had suggested that she just reuse one of her old short story assignments from last year. Although she had a feeling she could get away with it, considering her old school was in America, she didn't feel like taking that risk.
What do I see...
September began scribbling down what she could see. It was a trick she had learned from her previous teacher at her old school. If she ever became stuck, she should write what she saw until she found something she wanted to write about.
I see Mrs. Jones typing on her keyboard. I see a girl with bright red hair writing in a spiral notebook with a mechanical pencil. The boy next to her is resting his head in his hand. He is also writing in his notebook. Everyone is writing in their notebooks.
Her eyes grazed her classmates until they landed on him. He was sat amongst his friends. His brown curls poked out from under his black hat. He was wearing the same uniform they all wore, but it was different on him. There was something about him. September watched him from a distance for a moment before she began to write again.
He is wearing our school uniform, but there is something different about him. Maybe it is his stature or maybe it is the way he laughs with his friends. He is writing with a blue pen. His friend in the seat in front of him is turned to look at what he is writing. I wonder what he is writing? Is it a poem? I think it is. That seems like his style.
Her eyes move away from the boy with curly hair. They move to the boy in front of him.
His hair is blonde and sort of messy. But the good kind of messy. He has a nice smile. There are drumsticks right by his notebook. Maybe he plays the drums. Does he have a band? or is he in band? Maybe he is brad?
The boy across from him has on a lot of bracelets. I wonder where he gets them. He seems like the type to make some of them himself, but I doubt that. He has a crooked smile, but it is very charming. His hair is curly too, but not as curly as the brunette.
September moved her gaze back up to look at the boys. The last one was sort of hidden, but she could still catch a glance of his blonde hair. Looking back at her notebook, she began to write his description.
The last one has dirty blonde hair that is shaped perfectly up. He looks like he could be the tallest. I can't see much of his features, but I bet he is just as interesting as the rest of them.
Tucking her hair behind her ear to keep it out of her face, she continued to write who she thought her classmates could be. She didn't know anything about anyone so she just wrote her assumptions. These assumptions turned to possible characters. For the first time that week, she finally had a direction for her short story.
As she finished up the first page of her story, the bell rang signaling the end of the day. Packing up her stuff, September left the classroom and headed for her locker. She was excited for it to finally be the weekend for many reasons. For one thing, she would finally be able to sleep in. The other was so she could finally explore her new town. The only things she had done this week were go to school and go grocery shopping with her aunt.
Following the same route back to her apartment, September took in all of the buildings that were becoming more and more familiar. London was so much different from the suburb she once lived in. Everything was different really. Though, she didn't mind the change.
Once she reached her flat, she headed straight for her room. Falling back on her bed as her bag fell to the floor, September let out a sigh. The week was officially over and the weekend had begun.
Changing out of her blue and black uniform, she pulled on a pair of sweatpants and her mom's old Guns N' Roses shirt. Leaving her room, she headed for the kitchen hoping to find something in the fridge. Although they had picked up grocery's last Sunday, her aunt, Sylvia, had finished the bag of chips Sept had picked out. Deciding on a bowl of cherries, September sat at the kitchen table and scrolled through her phone. She looked through posts that her friends from her old school had made. Part of her longed to be back at her old school, but she also didn't mind this new school.
The girl didn't even notice the time that past until her aunt arrived home from work.
"How was school?" Sylvia asked her niece.
September shrugged. "Same old, same old. Work any better?"
"Still getting used to it." Her aunt began to take off her coat. "Hey I didn't feel like cooking, pizza okay for tonight?"
Sept nodded.
The weekend passed by in no time. Luckily for September, she was able to check out a few shops by their apartment as well as find a cute cafe a couple of blocks past her school that she could go to.
Tugging her denim jacket over her shoulders, she headed out of the apartment to school that Monday morning. It wasn't quite spring yet so the mornings were still a bit chilly. Today especially.
As the girl approached the school, she noticed the group of boys from her creative writing class. They too were sporting jackets, but she noticed the boy with curly brown hair first. He wore a black leather jacket unlike the others who wore denim or bomber jackets.
She passed by them and headed to her locker just as she had done the entirety of last week. Grabbing her textbooks for her first three classes, she walked quietly to her form.
Her classes passed by quite quickly as she found her way to the library for lunch. Finding the table she usually sat at, she pulled out her composition book. She hadn't worked on her project at all this past weekend, but she wasn't really worried. It wasn't due until the upcoming Friday, so she still had plenty of time to work on her short story.
Eventually the lunch period came to an end and September was on her way to her fourth class of the day. She found her way to her seat in the back of the room. She set her book down on the desk and her bag on the floor. The sticky note was exactly where she had left it, but this time there was messy writing in blue ink beside her own note.
Hey Sept, I do play an instrument, two actually. I mostly play guitar, but I do use the piano when I'm writing songs usually. Maybe I could teach you someday. As for genre, I'm in a band with a few of my mates. We're called the Vamps. I would say that we make pop rock music actually, but it tends to lean more to the poppier side. Personally, I love the Arctic Monkeys, but also I'm inspired by Mcfly and ACDC. Sometimes, I think I'm all over the place. Do you have any favorites?
~ Brad
P.S. your welcome
Biting down on her lip to keep her smile from becoming too big, she reread Brad's words one last time. Pulling out a fresh blue sticky note, she began to write her third note to Brad.
Brad, I would be honored to learn how to play guitar or piano from you. I would also be honored to hear you play one of your songs. I bet that they are amazing. As for bands, the three that you named are all great, however, I personally love ABBA and Queen. Recently though, I have been listening to a lot of All Time Low and the Killers. Speaking of favorites, what are your favorite things? Off the top of my head... my favorite color is lilac, food is either grilled cheese or ice cream, song is currently Andante Andante by ABBA, and hobby is reading.
~ September
Peeling the note off of the stack of square papers, she pressed the sticky part onto the bottom of the desk where she usually placed it.
