The girl sat in the same seat as the day before. Her eyes re-read the class project she had due for her creative class. She still had a few weeks to finish it, but she still had writer's block.
The class project for the semester was for them to create something, whether it be a poem, play. or short story, and present it in front of the class. September had already determined that she was going to write a short story because she was no good at play writing and she disliked poetry. Although she was anxious about presenting her work in front of the class, she was more anxious about getting the actual story done. She had written so many stories before this, but the time that she really need to imagine something, her mind was completely blank.
As September started writing aimless sentences, the bell finally rang. She had lost track of time. Shoving the composition book into her bag, she hurried out of the library and over to her locker. While pulling out her textbooks she needed, she stared at her history book. She had completely forgotten about the sticky note until just now.
The girl moved as fast as she could between the hundreds of students that walked through the halls to her next class. With the door of the history classroom in her view, she slowed down her pace. Taking a deep breath as she reach the heavy metal door, she entered the classroom and headed for her seat in the back.
This was it. She would finally see if someone had responded to her note.
Setting her bag on the floor, she reached for the orange sticky note. It was still in the same place. Her heart dropped a little. Maybe no one had found it, but as her brown eyes looked over the writing she was gladly surprised by the messy blue writing underneath her own.
Hello, love, I sit in this seat in the block after you. I found your note trying to find a pen and yes, my class is just as boring as yours. Thompson is the worst. I'd much rather be in the band room. How come I don't recognize you?
~ Bradley Simpson (aka Brad)
P.S. I like your name
Her eyes re-traced every word that he had written. September's excitement had consumed her mind that she hardly noticed when Mr. Thompson began today's lecture. She couldn't believe that someone had cared enough to actually respond to her note, let alone find it in the first place.
Fishing in her front pocket of her bag, September pulled out a stack of sticky notes and a pen. Not really thinking about what to say, she just began to write.
Hi, Bradley Simpson (aka Brad). First off, to answer your question, I'm new. Started here on Monday. Second off, I think it would be cool if we became friends. I have yet to make a friend here. So, since you mention the band room, I assume you play an instrument. What is it? Also what genre of music do you play? I personally don't know how to play anything, though I wish I did. If I could though, I think that I would make like pop rock or alternative music. I would say that is my personal favorite.
~ September Adams (aka Sept)
P.S. thanks
September grinned from ear to ear as she re-read her note. As she placed the new sticky note under the desk, her heart swelled. She was so excited at the thought of Brad responding again.
