I walked into my Algebra 2 class, just as the tardy bell rang. Mr. Norvel, our teacher, just looked toward the door where I was standing, and sighed,"Miss Monroe, please take your seat".
I headed straight for the back row, and sat down at a desk, putting my backpack beside me. Connor, who was sitting in the seat to the right of mine, leaned over and whispered, "I'm really excited for tonight. I'll pick you up at seven?"
I smiled at him, and nodded, "Yeah, seven sounds great." He shot me a cheeky grin, and unzipped his backpack, taking out and handing me a sheet of paper that was folded into quarters. "I'm sorry in advance." he whispered, and turned back to face the front of the room, his cheeks reddening slightly. I unfolded the note, and couldn't help but grin from ear to ear at what I saw. Connor had written me a poem, and it was possibly the cheesiest thing in the world. I smiled as I read it in my head.
Allison,
I'm really bad at poetry, but here goes:
Roses are red,
violets are bright
You're really cool,
and I can't wait for tonight.
Lillies are pink,
and my heart is beating,
faster just thinking,
of our date this evening!
I should probably take a poetry class or something before I try to write it again... please don't hate me for giving you this cheesy, awful piece of writing (if it can even be called writing).
Connor (AKA the worst poetry writer in history)
I rolled my eyes at the note, but felt exceedingly happy all the same. That note was the best piece of poetry ever written for me. In fact, it was the only piece of poetry ever written for me, so there wasn't any competition.
I tried to draw my mind away from Connor and his note, and pay attention to the teacher for once, but to no avail. While Mr. Norvel was saying something about peradolas (or was it parabolas?), my mind was elsewhere. Instead, I was busy fantasizing about my date that night. However, it was completely unlike me to be thinking about dates and guys in my free time.
That is, if you can consider the middle of class free time.
It wasn't like I was too busy with school or anything to worry about the opposite gender. Actually, I would completely despise school were it not for my friends, and refrained from thinking about it when I wasn't in the prison.
No, I just never had any interest in the guys at Lincoln High. They were always too talkative, or too reserved, or too ugly, or too conceited. None of them had ever sparked an interest in me, that is, until Connor Bryant came along.
In some ways, he was a typical jock. He wore a letterman's jacket. He had perfectly styled, cocoa colored hair, and a dazzling, pearly white grin that could make girls' knees buckle.
However, in other ways, he was much less like a jock stereotype, and much more like something out of a movie. Other than in math, where he was stuck in the remedial class with me, he had a huge brain, and already had almost ten different scholarships. Plus, to top it all off, he volunteered at the Humane Society almost every single weekend. All in all, he seemed pretty close to perfection.
BBRRIINNNGG!!
The sound of the bell snapped me out of my thoughts. I quickly gathered my things, flashed Connor a smile, and headed toward the exit with him still racing through my mind. As I left the room, though, somebody walked straight into me, causing my binder and dozens of papers to scatter everywhere.
