Bing! Bring! the school bell rang and all of the students rushed out of the classrooms. Cell phones went off, buzzing with texts and tweets. Girls planning slumber parties, boys planning...whatever they plan.
My name is Danielle Evere. It is supposed to be pronounced (Ev•ear), but all the populars call me Dan..yell Revere-my father's name is Paul Revere Evere. He still kind of hates my grandfather for doing that, but they love each other still.
Love. Isn't that a curious thing? Some people say falling in love or having love is like magic. Others say it's like a train running straight into the depths of Hell. I haven't experienced love-at all, in fact. Sure, I love my parents and friends, but I have never felt a connection to another living person that I'm NOT related to. In complete truth, I'm not exactly even sure what Love is.
But not to worry, I have asked Ms. Hart if I could visit her at her house this evening. I hope she can give me some answers to all of my somewhat pressing questions.
Walking up to her door, I didn't feel nervous. Seeing as she is a fellow woman who isn't currently in love, I find her somewhat, relatable. "Ms. Hart?" I started.
"Please, Danielle! You are in my home. Call me Anna." She confidently yet sweetly reassured me that I was welcome there.
"Do you mind if we discuss the topic of-" I hesitated, just now realising that this might be a touchy topic for a woman who had been left at the alter, twice. "love?" I scrunched my shoulders and waited for the the glass-shattering look of pain and astonishment on her face.
She looked at me as if I were some deranged Zombie that had just stepped out of a Hollywood film. "I wouldn't mind it at all. Are you all right?"
"Yeah." I started to relax my muscles, surprised I didn't end up with a boot to the curb. "I have ten main questions. Two branch questions for each of them-just like you teach us to in Languages 101." I looked at her, waiting for a proudness to come across her face. But that wasn't what happened, she held her hand out; as if she were asking to see my notebook. This notebook had all my personal thoughts on love, but it also held my questions on the same page.
She raised her eyebrows, making it perfectly clear she wanted to see the structure of my questions. I handed it to her hesitantly, and saw a glimpse of bewilderment cover her face. She clutched the notebook tightly; knuckles white, face turning more of a bright red each second. She looked up at me and froze.
YOU ARE READING
The Strength of Ms. Hart
Romance"Good morning, students!" Ms. Hart said as she enter the classroom. "Good morning, Ms. Hart." the high schooler seemed to all mope, in hopes she would go easier on them this year. Ms. Hart had never been married but had been engaged twice. Because o...
