My Fake Boyfriend

Alyssa Ace Averman was a terrible name. In highschool, it got me picked on a lot. The fact that I was a huge nerd didn't help. I couldn't have wanted to go back to highschool less. I hated it with all my soul. The worst four years of my life had happened within those peeling brick walls and rooms filled with students vacantly gazing out of windows, and on my last day here, I'd sworn never to go back.

But here I was, because I needed experience as an intern. At nineteen, I liked to think of myself as more mature than other kids my age. I was atleast smarter than a large majority of the nineteen year olds at my college. Maybe there were one or two like me--actually caring about how they did and where they would go. Concentrating on the next assignment instead of the next party. But I had never seen them. Then again, I'd only gone to one party, and that was only because my best friend (Bethany) didn't want to go in alone.

"Alyssa!"

My head jerked up. I coughed, straightened, and tried to smooth my hair and look like I hadn't been caught sleeping on the job. "Yeah, Uncle Davie?"

"I told you, you're supposed to help me great these papers." He said, pointing. "I can't do it all."

"You've been doing it all for seven years." I said, sitting down across from him. "Who's do I grade?"

"Bless your soul." He replied, then dropped a stack of papers in front of her. "Don't be too harsh. These are seniors, not college students."

"Eh." I said, meaning I didn't care.

"Joshua Evans." I announced, plucking the paper from the pile.

"Oh, dear Lord." Said Uncle Davie. "Don't read that one."

"Why not?"

"He always manages a dirty joke or two, no matter the topic." He said. "One time, he said something about Hamlet that almost gave me a stroke."

Knowing how much my uncle loved his literature, I determined that you didn't have to be very insulting to almost give him a stroke.

"Romeo and Juliet: A Love Story to Span Centuries." I began in a grand voice.

"Oh, no." Uncle Davie moaned. "It always is the worst when the title is half-decent."

"Romeo and Juliet is the story of two star-crossed lovers, who sacrificed their own lives for no effing reason."

Uncle Davie tipped his head. "He said effing?"

"No, I censored it."

He nodded like he had expected no less.

I spread out my arm. "Juliet was, like, twelve." I broke character to snort, then continued. "She saw Romeo and went 'oh, shitaki mushrooms, I'm about to commit an illegal crime by eating his face off'. She eats his face off, then goes, 'oh, wait, who are you again?'. Romeo, heart broken that he cannot love this girl because she's a Montague and he'll get his effing head chopped off decides to love her anyways. Why, Shakespeare, would you condemn these two lovestruck teenagers to such a terrible fate? Because, Joshua, they're effing retarded."

Uncle Davie groaned. "Every. Time."

"I think I should just give him an 'F' for how many times he used the word." I said. "It seems appropriate."

"The idea was the tell your opinion on the story." He said. "He is doing that."

"A bit much, though, don't you think?"

"I just hate to fail him. So much potential." Uncle Davie said.

I re-read the paper. "Where?"

"I was his teacher his freshman year." Uncle Davie told me. "He was an incredible writer. He could do it all. His voice was so unique and fresh. He had a gift, Alyssa."