Yeah, He's My Teacher » larry stylinson au

Chapter Three

"Harry. Harry, wake up."

I felt somebody shaking my shoulder, and a piercing pain on the left side of my skull. I was prone to migraines, and waking up with a headache was the worst feeling. It was like god just said 'Lol nope. You aren't going to have a good day today. I love controlling people's lives. Go me.'

"Harry." Oh great, the shoulder shaking again.

I squinted my eyes shut and rolled away from where the voice was coming from. I was way too tired and in too much pain to care about who was trying to wake me up.

I felt the duvet being ripped off of my bed, and suddenly I was freezing.

I guess whoever it was clearly needed my attention, and I rubbed my eyes tiredly. After scratching my head and blinking a few times, I opened my eyes a crack to see who needed me.

"Harry! Your bus comes in ten minutes! Get up!" My mum screeched at me, looking stressed out.

Oh. Well, I guess that's important...

"Mmmkay, mum." I said before yawning. I walked over to the bathroom, brushed my teeth, fluffed up my hair a little, and decided I looked presentable. I grabbed two headache pills and washed them down with a glass of water, and went back to my bedroom.

I pulled on a pair of loose grey sweats, and a black t-shirt. I found the nearest two socks and put them on, and then headed downstairs to the door. I grabbed an apple, my school bag, and slipped on my shoes, and walked out the door.

My bus picked me up at the end of my driveway, so that was nice. The second I reached the end of the driveway, my bus turned the corner. I got on and sat in the front where I always sat.

°•.•°•.•°•.•°

"Alright guys. So today I was thinking we would start looking at poetry. Now, poetry comes in all shapes, sizes, and styles. I've printed off a few examples from a wide variety of poems, from modern poems to Shakespeare, I also have poems with deep meanings and poems for uplifting your spirits. I'd like if some students could read these aloud, are there any volunteers?" Mr. Tomlinson— Louis— asked the class.

Three people raised their hands. Benjamin, a bisexual guy who had slept with all of Cheshire by now, a girl named Alice, and a girl whose name I forgot. She was new this year, and I didn't pay much attention in our 'name game' the other day.

"I've got five poems, guys. Is there anybody else who would be willing to read a poem for me?" Louis pouted a little and looked around the class.

When nobody raised their hands, Mr. Tomlinson sighed.

"Well, I'll read one for you. And Harry," no no no no no. "If you could please read this last one, I would really appreciate it." He spoke to me, giving a gentle smile.

I looked at him with unease written all over my face, but he still walked over to my desk and handed me the poem.

"Can I please not read this?" I whispered desperately.

"I believe in you, Harry." He replied, giving my shoulder a soft squeeze as he walked back to the front of the room.

"Okay, Courtney, would you care to start us off?" Louis asked, with his bright, contagious smile.

The new girl read her poem, followed by Benjamin and then Alice. It was going to be my turn next. Why was Mr. Tomlinson doing this to me? He knew I was awful at English! For god's sake, he read that paper yesterday! I hated talking in front of people, reading was even worse. I always stumbled on my words and messed words up. It was so bad that my mum even had me tested for dyslexia. I didn't have dyslexia, but I still had trouble with reading and writing.