black treacle - matt sturniolo

Chapter Eleven, DIE

The pencil lead snapped. Robyn launched it across the room and sunk her head into her hands, concluding her melodramatic outburst with an aggravated sigh.

Do not take APUSH and AP English Literature at the same time unless you enjoy the gradual mental deterioration from memorising more content than the human brain could handle. She made sure to emphasise this mental note in her memories for a fifth time that week.

Reading the Prisoner of Azkaban for the first time bought young Robyn an irrational fear of dementors because apparently having your soul sucked out was the worst thing that could possibly happen- other than her book heights being misaligned on her shelf.

If you ever wanted to experience the excruciating pain of having your soul drained out of your body, just attempt Robyn's workload.

From Alexander Hamilton in the Revolutionary War to the star-crossed lovers in Atonement by Ian McEwan. Big fun...

Not only was analysing poetry stressing her out (modern-day torture, she called it, more Emily Dickinson, less Geoffrey Chaucer please), Robyn had finalised her opinions on Matt being Spider-Man.

Her verdict? Under the red mask was Matt Sturniolo, no doubt about it.

Shoving the camera into her hands and sticking the mob of tourists in her direction, then pretending he got lost? Clever ruse but it ultimately failed against her.

Matt had been eyeing the alleyway (she assumed he ran off to stash his bag) every chance he got and meticulously checking his watch for Spider-Man's time of arrival before she had made him aware of it.

Also, it didn't help that a bit of his mask peaked through the pocket of his jeans.

Her morning routine had drastically altered after this discovery. Opening emails was the least intensive task but even then she caught herself holding her breath with every log-in, terrified to see Spider-Man's death as her new piece topic.

Robyn stored the thought of Spider-Man's death deep in the storeroom of her mind, right behind the embarrassing moments and annoying commercial jingles. She'd rather cringe than have to envision his death.

The only bright side of today was the new romance novel release which meant Mrs Abott would be too preoccupied and engrossed in her steamy scenes to remember to storm in and threaten to throw her out.

And soon, Robyn's English class would be doing Pride and Prejudice, so she'd appreciate surviving her crushing workload, at least for enough time to receive an A for rereading and studying her favourite novel.

Robyn checked her phone after leaving the room, about to ask Spencer if they were meeting for lunch only to find a text that had been waiting for her.

Spencer: Sorry! I got a tutor session, he's freaked out for his test last period.

Spencer: Bribed me with brownies and I left them in my locker (to tide you over because I know you can't survive without seeing me for an hour).

While typing a snarky response, Robyn pulled open the library door. Her mind was on the brownie she was going to devour. One of the perks of having your best friend being the go-to tutor students rushed to when they were failing a class was the countless gifts (many of them consumable) she received once their grades were rescued.

Her favourite gift was the spa voucher for two when she transfigured the D grade into an A plus. The next thing she knew, Robyn was struck to the floor with the wind knocked out of her body.

Scrambling to sit up, Robyn bumped her head and was instantly pushed back by the crushing weight atop her. With her vision quickly clearing, it finally struck her that she had knocked Matt on the ground with her.