Tyler Wild Must Die

Sad Memories

Anabelle's P.O.V.

"There's no such thing as a perfect book," Mr. Ochocinco says.

Mr. Ochocinco is my English teacher, but that's not his last name. Or at least it wasn't until last year. Back then his last name was Mr.Smith, but then when he thought his favorite football team, the Bengals, had a shot at the Super Bowl, he legally changed his last name to that of his favorite player Chad Ochocinco, who had changed his name to match the number on his jersey but whose own real last name before he changed it was Johnson.

"A writer may think his or her book is perfect when completed,"Mr. Ochocinco continues,"and pity the poor writer who thinks that! But in reality, there's probably something that the readers would change. Maybe it's just a single extraneous paragraph. Maybe it's a character or an entire plot point! And of course it's possible that no two readers will agree on what that imperfect something is. But no matter how beloved a book, there's usually something."

Blahblahblah.

I normally love English class, which doesn't even feel like school to me, but today I just want him to get on with it. Nevermind if some novels need changing. I've got my own problems, my own things that need changing, like teaching Tyler Wild a lesson!

"Your assignment," Mr.Ochocinco continues, "is to pick a novel that you have always loved deeply. Then I want you to write me a paper about three things you love about it and then one thing you would change. Just one." Mr. Ochocinco glances over at the clock on the wall, sees we're out of time just as the bell rings, and hurries to finish assigning the assignment.

"It's Friday," he says in a rush, raising his voice over students tossing items into backpacks, pushing back chairs and stampeding toward the door. "I want outlines on my desk Monday morning, finished papers the following Monday. Dismissed."

For a guy who loves football so much, he sure can sound all formal English teachery at times.

I was putting in my last few notes in my binder when I overheard "Tyler Wild." It was as usual two popular girls talking about him like he was the best thing to walk on this earth. I guess he's just that guy everyone goes to school to see.

"...Too bad, poor Tyler isn't here today." Wait, what? He's not in school today? I wanted to keep eaves dropping on them but as soon as they got into the hallway, I lost them in the crowd of loud, tall teenagers that manage to still trample me.(You'd think I'd be used to it by now! Yeesh!) As the crowd took me against my will to the other side of the school, I slammed into a red head.

She turned around with an irritated look until she realized it was me.

"Ana!" Meridith's voice came out of this person's face.

"Meridith?!" Is that really her?! "What happened to you?!" It slipped out before I could filter my words. Meridith rolled her eyes. Her hair was extremely frizzy and it looked like she had just gotten off a roller coaster, and she wasn't wearing any make up.

"I woke up late, okay!" She said in a frustrated tone as she used her hands as best as she could to flattend the afro she was sporting in this lovely day. I tried my best to keep a straight face, it was really funny to see a really pretty girl have a bad hair day. (Not to mention a bad day altogether!xD)

"Anyways, have you seen Madison?" Meridith asked me as she opened the red locker in front of her. 306C.

"Umm..no, but I don't have any classes with her except Gym." She had miraculously found a frail small hairbrush in her locker and was attempting to comb out the bird's nest she had. She tugged and pulled and all she got was a hair brush full of strawberry blonde hair. (I still call it red!)