Sweetheart

16

Lizzie
September 2020

I'm sitting in English class, learning about La Belle Dame Sans Merci by John Keats when I hear someone scoffing at Mrs. Morris's words.

The entire class turns towards that sound coming from near the window, across from where I'm sitting. Even our sweet, polite teacher seems surprised by that reaction to her simply calling La Belle Dame an independent woman.

"Something you want to share with the class, Mr. Kingsford?" the professor asks, tilting her head a little, her grey curls shifting slightly on her shoulder.

Aaron looks around, then shrugs. "You want my honest opinion?" he says, arching a brow. No, Aaron, we don't want your honest opinion, because it'll be trash.

Mrs. Morris nods. "By all means..."

"Okay," he starts, sitting straight. "I don't think she's independent. I think she's just insensitive and selfish." 

That makes me scoff, shocked. And, of course, the class turns to me. "Sorry," I mumble an apology.

"Ms. Wright, please. We'd love to hear what you think about Mr. Kingsford's opinion," Mrs. Morris tells me, and I know what she's doing. She's starting a discussion, a debate. Between me and Aaron. This can't end well, but it'll be so much fun.

I turn in my seat and look at Aaron, who's always bored and irritated by other people just existing. "Well, Aaron, if you think that a woman should be considered insensitive and selfish just because she chooses not to stick with a man," I begin, anger fueling me. "Then, Mr. Kingsford, you're pathetic. And you didn't understand anything about this poem."

Our classmates gaze at us, moving their heads from me to him. The professor, instead, grins. Aaron replies, "I'm pathetic? You're here, telling me that a woman being with a man and the next day leaving him for another, isn't selfish? Especially when those men she leaves are in love with her. How is that not insensitive?"

Oh, the little asshole. "Why is it that when a woman does it, she's selfish, but when it's a man, he's a charmer? It's not her fault these men fall in love with her, is it?"

"No, but what is her fault is the fact that she breaks their heart to the point where they feel physically sick. Plus, I never said that if a man did the same it'd be okay. It wouldn't," he retorts, shrugging his tense shoulders.

I scoff again. "Seriously? Coming from you, I would've believed a flat earther more. La Belle Dame might have deluded all those men, but she's not the one controlling their hearts. They should've known better," I say, crossing my arms and leaning back in my chair.

Aaron snaps, "Neither do they! Is anyone able to control their heart? I'm sure that if we were, we wouldn't allow ourselves to fall in love."

"That's ridiculous. Everyone wants to fall in love, even though it's not something we can control."

"Not everyone."

I open my mouth to answer again, but the bell rings, and Mrs. Morris stops our discussion. "That is what literature should create. Good job."

We all get up from our seats and say goodbye to the teacher, leaving the classroom. As I'm walking towards my next class, I feel pressure on my arm, and suddenly I'm being pushed to the side, into an empty classroom. Oh, Lord, not this movie scene.

"Jesus," I mutter, steadying myself and clutching my books tightly. As expected, when I lift my eyes I meet Aaron's green irises, shining like dark leaves. "What do you want?" I ask, bored.

He seizes me up and down. When his voice comes out, it's ice cold. "Are you in love with Nate?"

Woah, there, okay. "Excuse me?"