Words Unspoken

Avery

Pre-chapter A/N PLEASE READ
Okay, so I'm gonna try something. I know I said I'd publish everything after it was all done, but since then I've had almost no motivation to write, as evidenced by the lack of short stories. So, I'm gonna publish this chapter and see if that does anything. I also now have more access to wattpad, so that might help. Right now, since I already have a few chapters finished, I'll publish this book chapter-by-chapter, every Thursday, but I wouldn't recommend getting too used to it.

Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Hi. I'm Avery Lichen. I like running, mostly from my problems, and writing poetry. I dislike most pop music, and coffee. I'm a Junior in high school, and while there are people who would call me their friend, I don't have any of my own. When I'm not working or doing homework, I spend most of my time playing guitar, listening to music, and writing. I have a younger sister named Tracey who's super girly. We're cared for by just our mom and her fiancee, Samuel Turner. 

At the beginning of my story, I'm writing poetry in History class. Our teacher, Mr. Aspen, is pretty chill, says it's unhealthy to disrupt a teenager's self-expression, so he lets us do whatever as long as it doesn't disrupt class and we make at least a B on our tests. In other words, his only rules are: don't make a mess; no loud foods, loud packaging, drugs, or alcohol; no smoking; no singing until the class takes a vote and decides they like your voice and musical taste with a 60% positive; and no music or videos without headphones or earbuds. We're allowed to have lethal, even illegal weapons as well, but we can't take them out of their cases or turn the safety off unless it's an emergency, and we have to have a license if it's a gun. But if you make one B-, pretend you're in Mrs. Burns' class until you hand in the extra credit with an A+.

Mrs. Burns is the complete opposite. She's an old hag who teaches our Chemistry class, and she makes us follow every rule to the letter or it's detention. Her rules are as follows:

1. Never spell anything wrong.

2. Say it short or not at all.

3. Don't disrespect anybody. Not your elders. Not your peers. Not the rat skittering across the ground outside. (This rule does not, of course, apply to her, because she's older than everybody in town, let alone the school, and everyone's afraid she'll strain herself and die.)

4. Sit up straight.

The list goes on for a while, so I won't bore you anymore. Let's just say, I'm glad it's now illegal to beat students.

Anyway, as I was saying before I followed that rabbit trail, I was writing poetry in Mr. Aspen's class, right. Most of my poetry had begun to sound the same, so I was having a rough time trying to make it different. I won't tell you what it's about, and I won't tell you why, so stop wondering.

Suddenly, I felt a tap on my shoulder. "Ave!"

As usual, my head popped up and turned before I could tell it not to. The room was empty except for me, Mr. Aspen, and Tristan, one of the people who call me a friend.

"Ave, c'mon!" Tristan said. "School's over!"

I moved my long red bangs out of my face, smiling. "Sorry, Tris. I was writing." Before he could look at the words - or rather, word - on my paper, I snapped the notebook shut and stuffed it into my bag. Standing up, I continued, "Didn't hear a bell."

Tristan nodded, returning my smile. "There wasn't one, remember? The AP classes have to stay after school for testing."

I blinked. "No, we don't."

He chuckled. "Leave it to you to see through my crap, Ave." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he started walking backwards out the door. "Now, c'mon. I owe you a drink from 7-Eleven."