~If Only..(girlxgirl) Chapter 7~

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I know its been awile but i've been really bussyyy...but heres chapter7!(:

Also read my new story Better In Time a One Direction Fan Fic <3 

Thanxx

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A new season had begun. It was near the middle of October. It was Monday morning and Honors English class was starting. The time was 11:10, and Mrs. Bryant stepped to the front of the classroom.

"All right guys, today's the day. Go ahead and pass up your reports on Animal Farm." She hesitated.

"On second thought, let's have a few read aloud, shall we?" Her voice was that of an opera singer's.

Various students groaned in displeasure. Emma placed her binder above the three-page report. She was unnoticeable in her quiet nook of the room. Izzy, whom sat at the front of the class, hid herself in a jacket.

Mrs. Bryant was a stubby woman. With short red hair, glasses with double thick lenses, and an office suit with a pink undershirt, she was no newcomer to teaching. Although her appearance lacked any attractiveness, she made up for it in generosity.

"Now, come on...whoever goes up today, I'll give five extra points on their final. How does that sound?"

Emma's stomach was growling from hunger. She resisted it and turned her head. She stared at Izzy from over her boney shoulder. Once she caught her attention, she mouthed the words "I love you" and blew her a kiss.

Emma caught her kiss and held it in her hand. She mouthed the words "I love you more" and smiled.

Izzy softly chuckled with delight, not loud enough for anyone to notice what she was signaling across the room, but enough for Mrs. Bryant to notice she had a student who was not listening to her pleas.

"Isabella!" she yelled. Izzy hopped out of her world to immediately focus her eyes to the front of the room. "Stand, come up, and read your report, young lady." "But I didn't..." "Nonsense! I can clearly see your report on your desk. It's under your jacket. Quit being so childish and come to the front." She held her bottom lip in worry.

Everyone was staring. Lesbian, they snickered. Izzy slid out of her desk and with twenty or so of her peers watching, flipped out the report and began to read aloud. She was shy.

"A Summary on Animal Farm by Isabelle Deaton." The class stared.

Mrs. Bryant sat at her awkwardly short desk and fixed her eyes on Izzy was if she were about to deliver a line from a Shakespearean play.

"Animal Farm is a post-World War Two novel written by the writer George..." One girl laughed. Izzy glanced up. Silence. "...George Orwell in 1945. It tells the story of farm animals that are mistreated to the point where they believe in starting a revolution. One night, a pig named Old Major gathers all the farm animals into a barn and speaks of overtaking their tyrant master, Mr. Jones."

She stopped.

"Continue, my dear." Mrs. Bryant took no notice.

"Old Major rouses the farm animals with a new anthem called The Beasts of England. They sing in great cheer with a newly-found sense..." She stopped again. W***e, they gossiped. "...sense of patriotism." She paused, and gave her teacher a disgruntled look. "Mrs. Bryant, I didn't finish past the first two paragraphs. I'm sorry."

"It's all right child, but your grade shall suffer for it. Please sit down." Izzy walked, with paper in hand, back to her front row desk. As she slunk back down in her chair, a boy in a varsity jacket began to scribble on a sheet of notebook paper.

"Audrey? Why don't you come up? I'm sure you finished your report, child." A lanky girl in a purple turtleneck sweater stood up and walked to the front of the room. Teacher's pet, Emma thought.

Audrey cleared her throat while the boy in the varsity jacket folded his note into a triangle. It hit Izzy's foot. She picked it up and silently looked back at him. He winked, and she opened the triangle.

The note read: "White trash bitch, why don't you just go die? Nobody likes you!" The note shot her in the heart with a bullet of words. Izzy glared back at the boy in the varsity jacket, and he raised his middle finger.

What had she ever done to him? What was happening? How could he be so cruel? Izzy trembled with worry. She turned her head to her girlfriend, who had been watching. Emma gave her a smile, a fake and fuzzy one. Her eyes grew, feeding on curiosity. What just happened to her girlfriend? What did the boy in the varsity jacket write to her? It had been nearly two months since gossip began.

Izzy was already socially ruined. She had lost any good name she acquired. Emma tried, but Izzy pushed her away. For her own safety. For she feared for Emma. For she loved her, and she wanted to put her in no pain.

Moreover, as Emma sat in silence, misery swallowed Izzy's soul, and she became a shell of a young woman. No soul. No love. No hope. The bell rung at 12:30.

As Izzy ran away from the desk she had been sitting at into the crowded hallway, Emma stood up with her rather-large copy of Gone With the Wind and walked to the boy in the varsity jacket. She confronted him and sternly asked,

"What did you write to her, Riley?" Riley, #18, casually said,

"It's not my fault she's a whore." Emma's blood boiled over, and with the snap of a finger, Riley was thrown over two desks with a bloody nose and rested in a mess of papers on the tile floor, by the force of the twelve-hundred page novel.

Thankfully Mrs. Bryant had left the room to sneak in a cup of tea before her next class, so Emma walked away through the crowd that had gathered in the doorway with ease. His nose was broken.

"Bitch!" Blood trickled onto Riley's blue Hollister-brand tee underneath his now-ripped varsity jacket.

Emma stopped in the crowd, turned back to everyone's eyes, and anchored her foot onto Riley's pulsating and vigorously–beating chest. "Izzy is my girlfriend, and if you say anything or write anything like that again, you will regret it!"

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