FAKE

seventeen.

I'm sorry, but you can't imagine how hectic my life has been. enjoy. I'm leaving y'all a long chapter, because, let's face it, you deserve it.

(the one with the Pulp Fiction references)

Dr. Jones handed me my 9/9 paper and I smiled. After the news had hit it had been hard to concentrate on something else. However, these were good news. Well, good enough to keep me from thinking about the Zayn thing for a second.

"Hey" I turned around to face Isaiah. "How much?" I asked, my competitiveness speaking.

"Seven." He sighed. "I thought I'd done better though."

"I'm sure you'll do better on the next one, Is." I smiled.

He looked at me knowingly. Even though I hated admitting it, he did know me. It was funny to think that, even though we'd met just some months ago, we did know each other.

"You want to tell me your grade, don't you?" He asked, laughing.

"Well, I did put effort into this essay." I pointed out.

"Nine?" He spoke.

"Nine." I smiled back.

"Snob."

No matter how much time had passed by, Dr. Jones' class was still my favorite. I know this might sound weird, but I was really looking forward to the exam. It probably was so because I wasn't expecting my Oxford letter anymore, so I didn't have any pressure on myself anymore. I just wanted to end the school year and the exam was just a proof that I had achieved to adapt myself properly to the American Schooling System.

"Well" Dr. Jones started, fixing her glasses and clearing her throat. "Today we're going to talk about the book that I told you to read some weeks ago." As soon as those words left her mouth, loads of groaning were heard. "Yes, it was for today".

At this, both Isaiah and I laughed. Obviously, we had read the book. Indeed, I had found it quite interesting. It was name "The Things They Carried" and it narrated the story of the Vietnam War from the Point of View of one combatant. The writer of the book, also, had fought in the war, which made the narration much more accurate.

"So, for those who read. Tell me, was the book a real story?" Dr. Jones asked to the class and I laughed lowly, obviously knowing the answer to that question.

"Yeah." Isaiah spoke quickly. "It was real".

Dr. Jones was almost surprised that her star student didn't know the answer to such a simple question and her expression couldn't hide it.

"No, Mr. Ward. That is, unfortunately, incorrect." She told him. "Is there anyone in the class that can explain why exactly? Anyone?"

I wasn't going to talk. I really wasn't, but no one spoke. Everyone in the class seemed to have died in those seconds, so I just rose my hand and responded.

"It isn't real. The fact that the story is plausible doesn't mean that it is still fiction. That is part of the fictionality pact that the writer has with the reader. It doesn't have to be true, but the author has to be able to create a plausible, believable reality for the reader to enjoy."

Saying that the class was speechless in an understatement. 

"Couldn't have voiced it myself in a better way, Miss Bonnet." Dr. Jones expressed flabbergasted.