"We are very late Rhen, let's go." Meghan said to me, I didn't feel like going to school or anywhere else for that matter."I'm done." I said, searching the room for my bag.
"Farrah!" Meghan whined dragging my name on. "I mean you had it yesterday."
"I know Meg, and I left it... At the door." I said sheepishly. "Oops."
Meghan's nose flarred and red covered her face."Be angry in the car, we're late." I said, rushing us down the stairs.
"Bye girls." My mother said across the room.
"Bye mommy." Meg responded, I decided I'd do the unexpected and said goodbye to Danielle, she smiled wildly.
"You're a Led Zeppelin fan?" Heighton asked, pointing at my T-shirt.
"Not really, my dad was though. This was his shirt." I said, looking down at the T-shirt I'd grown so fond of.
"Well just so you know, I would have mistaken you for a fan. So your dad doesn't like them anymore?" Heighton asked again.
"Why do you ask so many questions?" I asked Heighton, not really annoyed. It was reassuring to know that someone, even if it was one person was interested in knowing me.
"Because you never ask me anything." Heighton stated with a coy smile. I opened my mouth, about to disagree, when Mr Maslow reentered the classroom.
"Okay my little writers, I have a beautiful surprise for you," Mr Maslow began. "Since it's a Friday and I feel like being liked by my students, I have decided to give you the day off." Mr Maslow said.
The whole class erupted into a spirited cheer, even Heighton threw in a 'thank goodness' in there.
"But we get down to business Monday and start on our poetry, your homework this weekend is to look at descriptive poems and how to write them. This project will count 25% of your year assessment, but that does not mean you should take it lightly. If it counts for something, its something." Maslow said after the class's cheers died down.
"Poetry, how exciting." I said, sarcastically.
I didn't appreciate the thought of poetry at the moment, remembering as to how I'd destroyed an entire poetry experience for me and my friends.
"You don't like poetry?" Heighton asked.
"How could she not? It's a freak norm. It's a known fact that all goths love art." It was Terra who spoke.
"How would you know? Last time I checked you were supposed to be getting a life." I stated, I seriously couldn't be bothered, especially by Terra.
"And last time I checked you were supposed to be goth and not trying to look normal now and then, but clearly its been a while since we last checked on each other."
Terra's little puppets laughed on cue, I just rolled my eyes. Clearly the girl had nothing better to do.
"Oh and by the way, you should really let the normal people do their thing while a freak like you does yours. It's simple, stick to the status quo. If I were you I would practice what I preach and live my own life, not trying to live someone else's."
"Must have been on your mind for a while now, what you just said. Congratulations you finally got it off your chest, now you can breath. Listen, Terra I get that you're looking for attention, do it at your own time not mine." I responded, annoyed by her at best, I had already started digging into my desk.
"Cute, the little witch has something to say. I'm surprised its not a spell though." Terra retorted.
"I do like poetry but it's not my forte." I said to Heighton, completely ignoring Terra even though I was still heated up from talking to her. My hand was still digging into the desk with little damage. I needed her flesh to destroy, I wanted more than anything to kill her right then and there.
YOU ARE READING
It just had to be a love story.
Teen Fiction17 year Farrah Wince is faced with adverse effects of life and is given the task to write a love story for her year end project, she is forced to put her feelings aside or combine the two, one problem, her life is anything BUT a love story.