Annika grew up in the mysterious Red Room, the place where the all so famous Natasha Romanoff got trained. Except, back in Russia, she is known by a different name. Natalia Alianovna, one of the most successful assassins the Red Room ever had. One o...
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Bailey helped me find my locker, which just happened to be right by Peter's locker.
"What class do you have first?" Peter asked, as the first bell had just rang, and he was grabbing things from his locker.
"I have English, with Mr. Mitchell," I replied, and he smiled, closing his locker.
"Hey, me too. I'll show you where it is," he said with his shy smile, and I nodded.
I followed him around the busy school, and soon he lead us both into an almost empty classroom, with a middle aged male teacher inside.
He looked up from his book, and gave both of us a smile.
"You must be Anna. I am Mr. Mitchell, your new English teacher. I have been told that English is not your first language, so I will cut you some slack if some things are wrong." He told me with a friendly smile.
"Thank you sir," I said, and he nodded.
"And if you ever have any questions, feel free to ask," he added, before gesturing me off.
"Would you like to sit with me?" Peter asked, and I nodded quickly, following him to where he sat, sitting in the neighbor chair.
"About what you said earlier to Flash, most people don't stand up to him like that. Especially girls. That was pretty awesome," he told me, and I smiled, but felt a little puzzled.
Why would someone have to thank me for sharing my opinion?
"He deserved to be taken down a notch," I replied, before the last bell rang, and the teacher stood up, standing in front of the class.
"Good morning everyone. I would like you to welcome our new student, Anna, who moved here all the way from Russia. I hope you all will be nice to her. Alright. With that out of the way, lets start the lesson." He said, everyone quieting down for him.
Although, there were still some kids that were talking, or on their phone while he was talking, being incredibly disrespectful.
If they were at The Red Room and doing that, they would no longer be alive.
"Today, we are going to start our creative writing unit. I would like to see what your skills are like by working on a short story. You have the rest of this block to show me something simple. Have fun. And as always, there can be nothing promoting drugs, alcohol, sex or violence. You may begin." He told all of us, and I followed everyone, getting out a paper and pencil.
Some students started writing right away, others stared aimlessly around.
Peter simply stared at his paper for a minute, before starting to write.
I wrote my name down and date, but paused when it came to the writing part.
We never had to create stories at the Red Room, much less have dreams or anything of the sort.
