𝙇 𝙄 𝘽 𝙀 𝙍 𝘼𝙏 𝙀 𝘿

1 L I B E R A T E D 1

1 L 1

"Are you almost done?"

I twirled my green and purple mechanical pencil around in my hand, my nails a scuffed black from my faded nail polish.

"I have a paragraph left, I think." I was in my English teacher's classroom, filled with annoyingly cheery posters about education and confusing ass quotes. Like, what does that Smalls quote even mean?

"Alright, just try to hurry. This was due last week," she reminded me sternly. I knew she had to go and pick up her kids from daycare but my brain was freezing up on me, and this was the type of essay I could finish only in class.

"I need some inspiration, Ms. Green. I'm sorry," I grumbled, finally relenting to ask for help. "What topic did you choose? And which genre?" she asked gently, putting down her lunch kit and walking over to me from her desk. The light scent of her perfume surrounded me in the bleak classroom. The fragrance had grown to be her signature smell, and something familiar.

"Searching within yourself. Realistic fiction," I told her, looking up. She seemed to be thinking for a second, so I turned my eyes back to my paper. I stared at the barely neat scribbling of my handwriting. "Well, first before this paragraph is completed, you must search within yourself. You can't have a character do something without it going hand and hand with the author's own life in some form or shape, whether big or small. Everything that your character experiences, you too, experience," she told me wisely. "Although it may not seem like it, you're right there in the moment with them. Holding their hand or pushing them towards a motive."

"So how do I search within myself to write this?"

Ms. Green rocked on the heels of her sneakers for a moment, then walked to the front of the class, away from the empty back row I was sitting in. It was the end of the day, and all the uninhabited chairs made me feel out of place by being here. It was also adding to my writer's block.

"I'll give you until the end of the grading cycle to turn this essay in, Miss Coolmen. I've seen your progress and your writing has came a long way. Next time, let's just try to complete our work on time and maybe pick topics we can handle," she rose a highlighted eyebrow at me. "But searching within yourself can only be left to you."

"Thank you, Ms. Green. I'm gonna work on it," I nodded at her, stuffing the essay into my binder and packing up the rest of my school stuff. "Don't go off telling your other classmates I let you take your essay home, since it was supposed to be only class work."

"I won't," I promised her.

"Have a nice rest-of-your day, Liberty," she told me, packing up her things too. Ms. Green and I left the classroom at the same time. I walked through the mostly empty halls of Aster Waters High, my black Jordan's squeaking against the freshly cleaned floors that reeked the fruity and familiar scent of Fabuloso.

I pulled out my phone, texting my mother that I was done at school. "Hey, Liberty. You still here?" I looked up to see one of my friends, Onella. "Yeah. I had to finish something up for Ms. Green," I told her, still walking. "No time for your favorite person?" Onella said sarcastically, switching directions and walking towards the back of the school besides me.

I kept walking, texting my mom. "I usually have time but my mom has to pick me up today and my shift starts soon." Onella rolled her eyes besides me, playing with her dark brown box braids, the same shade as her hair. Onella had doe-like brown eyes, and slightly smooth brown skin, with what I think is one dimple. She was a complete doll and innocent as hell...until she opened her mouth. "You be acting like you really need the money. We both know your family is decent."