ARCADIA: the undercover blogger

Chapter 2

Fridays were my favourite days, Fridays were creative writing days. This year, my creative writing class was honestly one of a kind. The people were incredible, inspiring and so goddamn talented. Despite this, they were also rather annoying. You see, each person has their own opinion, and each person has to express this opinion. Nobody will ever admit defeat, and so most arguments usually lasted months, or at least until they got shut down by the professor. 

His name was Adam. Just Adam. Nobody knew his last name, and he claimed he didn't have one. I never believed him, it all had to be a part of the allusive 'philosopher', appearance he had been trying to build for the duration of the year. My favourite thing about him was that he never called upon anyone to read their works or share their ideas, and instead, he relied purely upon volunteers. Therefore, I never had to share with the class, and so I never did. Not once, had I spoken out loud and I intended to keep it that way. 

"Welcome all, to freestyle Fridays!" He announced as we wondered through the door, taking our normal seats. 

"Every day is freestyle Fridays!" Stated a boy from the back row. I turned to look at him and was surprised upon realising that I'd never seen his face around. How could a new boy make a judgement on a class he'd never attended?

"And you are--?" Asked Professor Adam, looking out towards the back with that face of confusion he always exhibited when over thinking something. 

"Actually don't bother. I can already see that you're going to be our new resident smart ass." Stated Professor Adam, rather quite brutally. The boy laughed. I don't think he minded being called a smart ass. 

Professor Adam proceeded to walk around the class, handout out a page to each student. 

"Today, we're going to be looking at quotes. Life changing quotes. The kind of line that someone can read and feel an almost immediate change within themselves. Your task for the day is to write at least five inspirational, life changing or just down right beautiful lines. You will have half an hour to write, and will then hand your works in to me. I'll be reading my favourites to the class... weather you like it or not." 

I would absolutely die of embarrassment if my work was read to the class. But part of me knew that I wouldn't have to worry. Mine wouldn't make his short list, and so I began writing. 

"Notice your heart. Still beating. Still singing. Still fighting. You made it. You made it through another day, and you can make it through once more. And this I know." 

"Leaning on nothing but a balcony rail, he held the entire world together." 

"Oh what am I to the winds, the waves and the birds"

To tell the truth, it was kind of hard to think of five pointless sentences that would be nothing but ink on a paper by the end of this class. I'd given up. Three was enough. 

"Please drop your papers to my desk." Said Professor Adam as he put his pen down. It seemed as though he had been doing the task as well, and i was more than curious as to hear what he had written. 

"hmmmmmmm" he mumbled aloud, as he read through everyones papers. One by one, he skimmed through them and chucked them aside, until finally, one had caught his eye. 

"Well, here I was thinking you'd all just wasted half an hour," he stated, as he lifted the sheet to his face. 

"Notice your heart. Still beating. Still singing. Still fighting. You made it. You made it through another day, and you can make it through once more. And this I know. And of course theres no name. You'd think that after years of schooling you'd at least learn how to write your name on the corner of the page. I mean it's a good piece... by an idiot obviously."

little did he know, that page was mine. That idiot was me. 

"Maybe, just maybe, the person who write that was too scared of judgement and ridicule. Maybe the person has a secret. Maybe theres more to them than we will ever know. Maybe that's why they don't just want to keep their identity a secret, but they have to." Came the voice of the new boy. 

What he'd said hit close to home. It sounded like the short version of my life. My secret identity. My fear of judgement. 

I turned to look at him, and there he was, staring right at me - or right through me. Either way, I felt exposed. I felt as though he knew every thing about me, even my secret. 

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