Chapter 1
There are so many answers in a question, but normally theres only one right answer. The way my life works is that no matter how many times you re-phrase the question the answer is always wrong. Just breathe, wait, how do you breathe again is it out then in or the other way around. Whatever, just keep walking to class before I'm late.
"Crap!" ugh today is not my day "Watch it". If you haven't guessed by now someone made me drop my books all over these nasty hallway floors, dumb jailhouse they call school. There we go, got all my books "now to get to French" I breathe under everyone else's chatter. French is probably the hardest class to be in, the work is easy, too easy but who I sit beside is the hardest part.
His brown eyes are soft and luring enough to pull you and your soul closer to him, and when he speaks it's like a smooth and silky ribbon wrapping around you, it just feels so good. Even as the ribbon moves up past your shoulders creeping up to your neck taunting you "play" and then you're overwhelmed with the sweet, hot and humid smell of cologne that your too caught up to realize the ribbon's getting dangerously tight on you neck. Even then you somehow can trust him when he flashes a smile that's beautiful just as it is sly and deceiving.
Thinking of him makes my heart falter just as much as looking at him, You can tell the breathing method didn't really work earlier so it's definitely not going to work now. "Snap out of it" my best friend almost screams in my ear "you need to focus or you'll get another detention", she complained, as if she's the one that has to suffer sitting in an almost empty room tapping your fingers while watching the clock tick down the seconds until the bell rings and the kids hurry out of the tortured, lectured filled prison. "Sorry" I mumble just enough for her ears to hear almost like I was telling a secret anyone would die to have in their possession.
The teacher that oh so often gives me detention is what I like to call a rock, no "The" rock, when she's mad she'll stay mad and not even the brightest, star like smile could shatter this large stone. This rock has dark, dark hair almost like charcoal fresh out of the fire but doesn't smell as comforting as a campfire in the late of night, more like a cheap knockoff of Channelle #9 She walks with the slightest limp on her right as if there's a little extra weight pushing down on that shoulder. Perfectly on cue she glares at me like I had just called her a name that should not be spoken inside these four walls.The only thing I can do in defense, without being sent to another detention, was to look away and finish my school work.
As I look down at my page, the answers still aren't coming, questions are not only lead to wrong answers but to even more questions. Then I start to end up with so many questions I can't possibly find the answers I need. Sometimes I can't even be sure of what to put beside Name:_____ do they want my middle, first or last? do they want a last name initial so they know which one I am? Im not even sure I know who I am. I over think things but at least I over think about good things too... like him, his voice, his looks and oh! his smile, thats a whole other chapter in my book.
