"We'll pick blackberries all day and then drive to a cliff, where we can look up at the night sky, and count all the stars." He says as he lies down next to her on the grass, eyes casted to the sky.
She chuckles softly next to him, "That's not possi...
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Stella's P.O.V
Don't you just love sitting in a gray, old boring classroom with a snobby teacher whose glasses are at the point of falling off her nose? Or better yet, a classroom that looks like it hasn't been cleaned in the last 50 years?
This is how I know how old my school probably is.
And to make things better, there's a hole in the wall.
I don't mean a small peep hole that people have in their houses when they look to see who decided to visit them. I mean a pretty big hole that's about the size of someone's head. I heard a rumor that someone was so traumatized by the last teacher that they tried to escape by banging their head on the wall.
Since our school has walls made of paper, voila! We have a head size hole in this room.
If you don't already know where I am judging by the horrible descriptions I have told you; I am in the detention room.
But don't worry. This isn't my first time.
It's my 57th time.
I'm usually the only person here, stuck with a snobby old math teacher who's divorced and cries over his wife. I don't mean that literally, but all I can say is that he hates his job. I mean, like same. I hate coming to school but what can you do about it?
It's better to fulfill the laws than to go against it.
I draw some more on the already vandalized desk and stare at the new piece of gum that is stuck to chair beside me. I peer closely at it to find out it's strawberry flavored. The more time you spent in the detention room, the more you get to know a better understanding of gum flavors.
I yawn as I lean back in the chair, knowing that it'll practically break at any point. Although it's sunny outside, the place still seems to be the darkest part of school. Maybe because it is. This is where the dark people are.
I put my head on the desk, knowing that I'll get pencil marks on my forehead soon. The moment I open my eyes, I hear the sound of someone yelling.
"Are you kidding me?!"
I pick my head up to see a young boy stomp into the room. He looks around the room in disgust while the teacher, who is pulling his ear, drags him inside making a sour face as well.
See? I told you how disgusting the detention room is.
"Well well well, another one huh?" The old man-the snobby teacher- says as he gets up with his arms folded across his chest. The man who is pulling the guy's ear shakes his head in disappointment. "This is what happens when you let a benched player play again."
The boy grumbles as his eyes land on me. "Why is this place so dirty?"
I don't know if he's talking about the classroom or me.
