Yeah, He's My Teacher » larry stylinson au

Chapter Two

"So class, today I want you all to write something for me. What kind of something is up to you, it could be a poem, a short story, a journal entry, whatever. All I need to see is some basic planning, and your piece. I'm obviously not expecting a novel, but just be creative. Write me something. You should be able to hand it in by the end of the period." Mr. Tomlinson said with a smile that made all of the girls giggle.

It was annoying, how all of them fawned over their teacher. Like seriously, he's probably a decade older than you, and not to mention, having sex with him would be illegal... I mean, I have to admit, as people go, Mr. Tomlinson was pretty fine, but I still don't think you should crush on him, because that will just end badly. Really, really badly.

English. Writing. Something. What the heck am I going to write? I'm not creative... I'm not good at English either... Oh god.

I spent a lot of the period chewing my bottom lip and tapping my pencil to the beat of some Skrillex song that was stuck in my head.

"Okay guys! Only five minutes left, so try to finish up what you're writing. Just hand your papers in to me as you leave." Mr. Tomlinson instructed.

Oh god... What am I going to do? What can I do?

I was sort of panicking, and decided to look out the window to calm myself down. I was looking out at the school yard, and I saw a bubble floating by. It gave me an idea.

In a rush, I wrote:

I am round. I am shiny. I am hollow.

I drift around, making people happy.

Little kids like me a lot.

I don't like kids.

They like to try and pop me, and that sucks.

I am a bubble.

I roughly sketched a mind map at the bottom of the page, to show my "planning". Just as I was writing my last word, the bell rang, signalling the end of class.

"Alright guys! You have all worked very well this period, just hand me your piece on your way out! I'm looking forward to reading them!" Mr. Tomlinson said enthusiastically.

Everybody started filing towards the door, Mr. Tomlinson wishing them all a good day as they left. He was far too happy; he was putting so much effort into his work, and I felt as though I was letting him down with my dismal eight sentences.

"Thank you Harry! Have a great day!" Mr. Tomlinson called cheerfully to me. I kept my head down because I felt really bad.

"Thanks. You too." I mumbled back, probably too quiet for him to hear me anyways. I left the class feeling dumb and glum. That's how I plan to refer to myself now.

Dumb and glum walks to his locker...
Dumb and glum accidentally bumps into hot guy named Chris.
Dumb and glum wants to go home, not to biology class.
Dumb and glum is feeling dumb and glum.

°•.•°•.•°•.•°

"Okay, class! I read your papers last night, and I must say that I am impressed! Overall, they were very well done. Of course, there were some... Not so good papers too,"— that would be me— "But there are some really talented writers in this class, I'm looking forward to the semester with you!" Mr. Tomlinson beamed at them, making the class buzz.

He started to hand back the papers, and everybody started talking to their friends and comparing their grades. I didn't have any real friends, it's not like people bullied me, not usually at least, but I didn't really have people to talk to. Or sit with at lunch. Or hang out with. So I didn't know what anybody else got on their writing pieces.