~Entwined~ [discontinued]

one;

Every story begins with a sentence. In that sentence are words. The words form a sentence. Each word shapes the sentence into something; funny, meaningful, mysterious. And if any of those words change into something else, something they're not meant to be, the whole sentence crashes down. And the people reading the sentence are confused. And they don't like it. They don't like the change. It doesn't make sense.

But why? Why can't we just appreciate the beauty of the sentence? It may not make sense in our minds...but who made the rule that it has to?"

I ran a hand through my curly brown hair, looking around at my classmates. I could feel sweat setting in on my pale forehead from all of the eyes looking up at me.

"Mr. Howell?" A deep woman's voice spoke up to the side of me. I turned to see her staring at me, expecting me to go forward. Her plump body was relaxed back, her hands resting on her stomach. Her dark brown eyes searched my face, and I could feel her concern.

"Oh, um sorry..." I laughed nervously, looking down at the paper I was gripping tightly. "Where was I...oh, right." My eyes searched the paper, then I looked up to meet my teacher's eyes. "That's all I wrote."

The class roared with laughter. I was, what you would call, the class clown. Which didn't exactly get you through the school year. It definitely didn't get you extra points for making a joke once in a while.

Probably why I had super low grades in most of my classes.

All of them except my favorite class: Video and Editing.

Ms. Growell sighed, her disappointed expression making my stomach churn. "Very well," she breathed, standing up and motioning for me to sit down. "Well, Mr. Howell's presentation was our last one. And what a great way to end things," she added, earning chuckles from the class. "Now, I expect you all to do your homework, remember, page nine and ten in your textbooks."

Right as I looked up at the clock to check the time, the bell rang, signaling the end of school. Students stood up, gathering their things and talking noisily about their weekend plans.

Ms. Growell smiled. "Have a lovely weekend class, I hope-" I picked up my backpack and threw it over my shoulders, heading quickly towards the door, when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "Oh, not you, Mr. Howell, you must stay here so we can have a little...chat."

I sighed, slumping in defeat. I spun around on my heel and shrugged my teacher's hand off, walking towards the chair in front of her desk, reluctantly taking a seat.

When all of my classmates were gone, Ms. Glowell shut the door and headed to her desk, where I sat impatiently. Her high black heels clicked on the tiled floor, and she sat down gracefully on her swivel chair.

I cleared my throat. "I can explain-"

She chuckled loudly. "I'm sure you can, Daniel. You know, I've never received so many unique excuses from one student before. Seriously, where do you come up with this stuff?" She reached a pudgy, dark-skinned hand into the drawer under her desk and pulled out a stack of papers. She rummaged through them quietly before pulling out a few. "Ah, here we are," she whispered, then cleared her throat. "For your essay on Martin Luther King Jr., which was due at the beginning of the year and you still have not bothered to make up, you told me that you 'were helping your sister unpack from a vacation to Ireland.'"

I rubbed my neck nervously. "Heh, yeah, um-"

"For your homework on religions, again, not turned in, you said that you 'had a rare iris disease that made your iris turn a sickly gray but it was all healed.'" She laughed and set the papers down neatly to the side. "I don't think continuing is necessary, Daniel."

I laughed nervously, brushing a strand of curly hair out of my face. "Not really, no, I get the idea."

Ms. Growell nodded. "Then you'll understand that for the end of year grade, you'll receive an 'F'?"

My eyes widened. "What? I-I can't fail English! Mom will kill me!"

She shrugged. "Guess you should of thought about this earlier, Mr. Howell. It's not really my problem if you fail."

I looked down at my shoes. Tears started to form in my eyes. I quickly wiped then away. I can't cry now, in front of my teacher, for God's sake.

Instead, I thought about it for a while, then spoke up in a small, scratchy voice. "Is there another way?" I glanced up at my teacher, who gave me a tiny smile.

"I was waiting for you to say that," she answered, leaning forward, arms crossed. "Actually, I have picked you out a tutor."

I almost choked.

"Excuse me? A tutor?" I ran my hands through my hair self consciously. "I-I'm not stupid."

"Well then, Mr. Howell, why are you failing all of your classes?"

I sighed and rested my face in my hands. No...no, she was right. I was stupid. I had such a hard time in school and it wasn't...fun there for me. I hated it. I had no friends, I was bullied, I suffered from severe depression and anxiety, and I just didn't feel like...trying. But I had to at least show up, though, because otherwise my parents would kill me.

"Who is it?" I asked finally, my voice muffled by my hands.

I heard her chuckle again. "A very sweet boy named Phil Lester."

My head snapped up, eyes wide.

Phil Lester.

Phil was a very popular boy in my grade, and was known for being a "softy," and, what the girls called him, a "smol bean."

I found him fake and a total jerk.

First of all, apparently he was super "smart and loyal" and never made mistakes. According to everyone, he was literally perfection.

Second of all, he never went out with people. Girls asked him out all the time, and he always declined. Who does that? Apparently, no one had ever seen him with anyone.

That fake asshole.

"Is this going to be a problem, Daniel?" Ms. Growell asked, eyebrow raised. "Because he's the only available tutor."

"U-um no, Ms. Growell. I just recognize the name, that's all."

"Glad to hear that." She smiled and stood up, walking to the door. I followed closely behind. "Your tutoring will take place every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday right after school in the Media Center."

"Wait, Friday?" I clarified. Friday was supposed to be a good day, one where I left school, not stayed after!

"Your ears are very good at listening," she remarked, smiling. "Maybe you should use them in class more."

I sighed.

This was going to be a long semester.