Dahlia - Taylor Swift

Chapter 1: The Shallow End

With the last quick stroke of her pen, Diane sighs and reads the poem over to herself. She chuckles at her unnecessary irony, though she knew Imani would love every bit of it. Getting to class five minutes early meant she could do whatever she wanted right before being swarmed with mindless chatter. My way of maintaining good diction, she thought to herself. Footsteps resided through the hall and into the classroom; Diane can recognize the sound of those boots anywhere.

“Good morning, Ms. Johnson,” the algebra teacher droned. “Hope you’re ready for class as much as I am.”

“Always, sir,” Imani says. She sinks into her seat and slumps over the desk as she shuts her eyes. Diane cringes at her terrible posture. She walks over to her seat and taps her shoulder gently. “What is it, Di?” Imani mumbles without looking up. Diane pulls the poem from her jeans pocket.

“I just wrote this. Thought it might cheer you up. All your favorite devices,” she says with a hopeful smirk. Imani raises her head and takes it, reading it with tired eyes. She chuckles and hands it back to her.

“I love it. I love your comedic verses, even though you tend to mention flowers so much.”

“Hey! Flowers can be an excellent motif! That’s why I gave you a whole bouquet for your birthday last year.” Imani rolls her eyes, smiling.

“You and your gifts. And you wonder how I was able to figure out your love language so quickly.” Diane gasped with mock hurt and they fell into laughter. The warning bell rang loudly throughout the halls, urging the last of the students to their seats.

“Alright girls, into your exclusive seats please,” their teacher says. Class had soon begun and Diane worked aimlessly through her worksheet. She hates every minute of algebra and all the equations involved in it. Math is nothing but a chore she does to get a quarter of a step closer to her beloved English class. With every crawling second, she feels as if her brain is melting into mush. I hope my next blink is my last, she thought. Just before she face-pants into the desk, a hand taps her shoulder, and Diane looks up to see her friend Stacy, freckles and all.

“Hey, can you help me with my folktale assignment after school? I need your skills to get me a  C before my mom takes my phone again,” she asks. Diane nods and the redhead grins and suffocates her in a hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
Algebra finally ends, and kids swarm the hallway like a herd of sheep to get breakfast during break. While walking, Diane and Imani spot an obnoxiously bright poster.

Stars and Golden Hearts:
Bring friends and family for Mazilton’s yearly event filled with talented individuals looking to be recognized for their bright shine!
April 15th!

Diane scoffed. “Why do they always make it look as if it’s an annual event? Literally no one within a thirty-mile radius even cares about this place. Plus, it’s always the same golden girl who wins, anyway. Probably no real talent either.” Imani shrugged.

“Who knows? Maybe we’ll get to watch someone with real stuff this year.”

“Can’t say I’m hopeful,” Diane muttered. The Stars and Golden Hearts annual event of their tiny town was what they were most well known for. She scoffs at the thought of Mazilton not being known for its food, extremely old library, or even the tranquil park down the street from her house - but known for an anticlimactic talent show. Diane always laughed her head off while watching it on TV as it was broadcast. She saw it and its disappointing contestants as one big comedy. Not a good one, but at least it’s fun to make fun of.