The Promise

Chapter 2

I open the door and step outside into the darkness of the bitter night. I looked around at the familiar street, wondering how nighttime could be so light. Everywhere I looked it seemed as thought each spec of darkness was consumed by an artificial light. The street lamps lit the sidewalk, the passing cars headlights lit the streets. Even the buildings appeared to be light from the incandescent light bulbs lighting each room of a house. The slam of the door to my flat snaps me out of my haze. I blink a few times and step down the grey, concrete steps and listen for the small click of my boots.
I continue my long walk and shove my hands into the pockets of my wool coat.

Winters really are a bitch in London.

When I reach the inviting campus I quickly pull my hand out of my jacket to look at the room number of the poetry class. 508 the smudged ink read.
I walked around for a little bit, trying to find the stupid classroom, but was defeated when I ended my journey in the same place I began it. "Damn it." I mumbled under my breath. "Are you okay?" A passing voice startled me. I look up from the sidewalk to be met with the most captivating green eyes. I briefly take in the tall boys appearance. Black jeans, high tops, heavy coat and beanie with blackish blue locks messily sticking out. "Erm I need to find room 508 but I just did a complete circle so I have no idea where it is." I say embarrassed I had to even ask for help. I mean I've been here for three years. I should know where everything is. "Are you in poetry too? I'm going there now. Let's walk together." He smiled at me. I let out a sigh of relief and we start the trek to the hidden classroom. "When I first started taking this class, the professor asked me if I skipped the first two lessons and I told her yes because I was embarrassed I couldn't find her classroom. It's out of the way so don't worry about it. A friend of mine told me that the first day of class there was only ten people out of the hundred that signed up for the class." He chuckled and looked at me. "What's your name?" His curious green eyes distract me for a moment. "Rosie." I shake my head a little and smile at him. "Michael." He sticks out his hand for a handshake and I place my hand in his. His warm hands are a wonderful contrast to the freezing temperature. "Your hands are freezing!" He yelps in surprise. I go to pull my hand away but he yanks my hand back and grabs the other one. "Jesus Rosie have you ever heard of gloves?" He asks and clasps my freezing hands in his. "Yes." I yank my hands away from his and start walking ahead of him. "But I've seemed to have lost them." I say over my shoulder. I turn back around and smile at how smooth I was. One point to Rosie. Before I can continue the little celebration in my head my foot hits something and I am sent flying forward, thankfully not face planting, only tripping. I grasp my heart and stop for a second to thank the universe I didn't die. "Looks like your gloves are not the only thing you've lost." Michael chuckles as he walks past me. I run to catch up with him and brush myself off when I am walking again. "Who said I've ever had balance?" I retort and he laughs. "Good point." We continue walking down the corridor and reach some steps. "Now Rosie I'm going to go first so that I can catch you if you trip." Michael says sarcastically. He starts down the steps. "Ha ha ha. Very funn-" I am cut off by my clumsy foot missing a step. I clutch the railing and slap my other hand to my forehead. "I have almost died twice tonight. Are you some sort of voodoo magic man?" I sarcastically ask him. I hear him chuckle and he turns around. "Maybe." He says while stupidly raising his eyebrow. I notice a small black eyebrow ring, but he turns around quickly as he trips and nearly face plants. "Guess I'm not the only one who doesn't have balance." I smirk at him.

Finally, after both of us nearly dying too many times to count, we reached the hidden classroom. We walked in and the first thing I noticed was the huge windows covering the walls furthest from the door. The clouds covered the moon, but the little light that escaped from the clouds shone down and created an eery feel. "You must be Ms. Parks." A frail voice startled me. "Easy there Rosie." I heard Michael yell and I shot him a glare. "My name is Mrs. Baker and Mr. Smith has told me marvelous things about you! I am happy to have you as a new addition to this class." She smiled sweetly at me. "Happy to be here." I smile back. She nods a quick goodbye and scatters to the front of the room. I take my seat in the back at a deserted table. "Pst Rosie." Michael annoyingly whispers. "Mr. Clifford have you lost your seat and need to know how to get there?" Mrs. Baker asks Michael with a stern glare. "Aw c'mon! Luke you asshole! You told her!" He shouts at a blond boy sitting next to him. The blond kid just slumps in his seat and appears to be holding in his laugh. "Mr. Clifford next time we get lost it may be wise to tell your teacher so she doesn't assume you are slacking and skipping her class." Mrs. Baker says with a small smile. "Regarding Ms. Parks, if you have an issue you need to take up with her do it after class or feel free to hash it out right now for the whole class to hear." She crosses her arms and Michael goes red. "See ma'am, I was just going to ask if Rosie wanted to sit next to me instead of sitting alone in the back." He nervously says. "That's a wonderful idea. Maybe Ms. Parks can keep you lot focused for once. Do you mind Rosie?" She asks me. I let out a silent groan and shake my head no. She smiles at me and I pick up my bag and walk to the desk next to Michael. I drop my bag on the ground in front of me and sit down in my chair. "Alright class! Now that we are all settled let's continue our lesson from last class. Today we are going to write open ended poetry, or in other words it doesn't have to have a specific structure. We talked about how you want to convey an image to your reader. You don't just want list something. That wall is white. These desks are plastic. Instead, the wall was a bright nameless color that shone through the filthy classroom as the only blank canvas for the artist to paint. Sounds a lot better than the wall was white right?" Small groans of agreement echo throughout the classroom. "Alright your assignment is this: Look around at your surroundings and pick a scene. It could be the classroom as a whole, the white untouched wall or even Mr. Clifford's oddly colored hair. I don't care what it is but take a mental picture of something surrounding you and write about it. Show me through words what it looks like. The binder paper is your canvas and your words are your paint and paint brushes. You may begin." I look around the classroom and see all the other people looking confused. I silently laugh to myself at how every persons expression is frantic; they look like their entire grade depends on this silly little activity. I glance at the window again. The moon shining through the clouds makes a perfect scene for the assignment. I touch my pen to the first line and write what comes to mind first:
The moon kisses the clouds
Creating an eery feel
It's the kind of feel that's almost uncomfortable
The kind of feeling that something could go wrong
Or something could go perfectly right
A midnight kiss
Or the perfect photograph
But the way the moon touches the clouds intrigues me more
It seems as though the clouds are in space
Floating right next to the moon
It's heavy shadow plays a trick on the eyes of a fellow sailor
It tricks him into seeing foreign light
Light that is new and exhilarating
Light he thinks he has only discovered
But fails to realize this light is only a mere illusion
A trick
But fear not for this trickery will soon be long gone
For when the moon is gone and the sun is rising
We will all be in a place of comfort
Knowing we are no longer dependent on the small light of the moon to help us
But instead a familiar light will guide us
And no longer will our light shine in the universe
Lighting mislead paths
For that is the job of the sun

I look at the paper content with my work. I forgot how it felt to write poetry. The rush I got from writing. The way it felt to write.
To feel.
After looking my paper over a few more times, I decided to get up and hand it in. "That was quick." Mrs. Baker comments. I look at her surprised. "How long does it usually take people?" I whisper. "An hour or so." She whispers back. I look at my watch and notice it's been a half hour. I look at the paper in her hands and decide I am proud of my work. "I like it. I hope you will too." I smile at her. She smiles back. "Well then you are free to leave." She gestures to the door and I smile grateful. I just want to get into my pajamas, wrap a blanket around me and watch a good movie. I grab my bag and throw my things into it in a rush to get home. "Don't get lost." Michael winks at me. "At least I can own up to it if I do." I wink back. I walk away and make sure to be careful of my footing so I don't trip. I hear snickers coming from the class and I turn around to see a red Michael. Got him.

--

"So how was it? Was it hell? Do you have homework? Any cute boys? Any bitchy teachers? Do we need to key someone's car?" Lilly bombards me as I walk through the door. "I feel like I'm under interrogation. Jesus Lilly." I chuckle. I hang up my wool jacket and scarf and walk to the kitchen to boil water for tea. Yes it's an addiction of mine. Sue me. "Answer the questions Rosie." Lilly follows me. "Let's see." I say thoughtfully while stroking my imaginary beard. "It was fine. Kind of fun actually. Don't have homework. A few but honestly I didn't really pay attention. The teacher's nice. The aid wasn't there. And I don't think I have anyone I feel like needs a car keyed." I spit out the answers to all of Lilly's stupid questions and walk down the hall to my room. The patter of Lilly's feet distracts me from the comforting silence. "How could you not pay attention to the boys. I thought I raised you better than that." Lilly scolds. I roll my eyes and peel off my heavy sweater and jeans. I put on yoga pants, a grey London sweatshirt and fuzzy socks. "Surprisingly it wasn't my top priority." I sarcastically say back. "You pain me! Pain!" Lilly dramatically falls onto my bed and puts a hand to her forehead. "Alright Audrey Hepburn get up." I laugh. "Was I really that good?" She excitedly asks. "If I say yes will you move?" Lilly nods her head and I sigh. "Oscar worthy." I say and she claps her hands. She scoots over to one side of the bed and I sit down next to her. The tea pot for my tea starts screeching and I jump up to go get it. "Pick something for us to watch." I instruct Lilly. She sarcastically salutes me and I roll my eyes.

As I pour my tea and milk, the microwave beeps at me, signaling forgotten food. I open it to find two bags of popcorn Lilly must have started when I got home. I laugh and shove one against my body and steady it with the side of my arm while I carry my tea in one hand and the other bag in another.

"Let our movie night begin!" Lilly yells as I walk in with the popcorn. I shake my head and chuckle at my best friends childishness.

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