My Heaven

My friends and Mr. Rowe

The only place that made me feel better is school.  The Pennsylvania School of Performance and Art or PPAS, is the safe haven of my hellish life.  My best friends are David Williams, Angel Dark, Alex Rose, and Serenity Caruso. David has been my friend since Kindergarten. He is black with major swagger. He wears skinny jeans and Hollister almost every day. He never wears the same outfit twice, I think. David is an amazing actor, he has been accepted into Julliard already and he is only in 10^th grade. Now Angel…well she is white with long brownish hair and wears designer sunglasses. The boys think she is so hot, I hear. She is the goddess of swimming. Alex is the prettiest Colombian you will ever meet. She wears floral shirts and dresses every day, I’m really jealous. Her dad is a professional football player, and her mom works in Washington DC. She is also the amazing actress in the group. Serenity is about 5’4 and the most popular girl in school, although none of us know why. She is black, with shoulder length black hair. She is the only one with amazing musical talent. She plays piano and has many gigs doing so. I love all my friends, they are the only ones that keep me from killing myself.  We were all sitting outside under our infamous oak tree, waiting for the 1^st bell.

          “Levi, how things goin’ at home, are they getting any better,” asked Alex said writing her next monologue, for drama. Yes, my friends knew everything about me little did I know that that was going to change.

          “Not just no but HELL no,” I said opening my case to my guitar.  My guitar is also the next best thing in my life. If I don’t have my guitar I have my guitar pick. This is also the only thing that is keeping my sanity.

          “Aww po’ baby,” Serenity said putting her piano book down and giving me a huge hug. Serenity is also the funny one in the group.

          “Yeah my dad still drinks 85 cans a day,” I said sarcastically.  The bell rang suddenly, just as David was going to chime in. We collected our things and headed to 1^st period. He walked with me because we had the same class. It is Mr. Rowe’s History class. I loved Mr. Rowe’s class; he always made it so fun. With his joking personality and funny looking beard, he wore a blue golf shirt with a black blazer on top. His pants were semi dress-like, they fit him loosely.

          “Good Morning class,” he stated loudly and proudly.

          “Good Morning Mr. Rowe,” we all said smiling. This is one of my best classes, because I always get an A and it’s so easy to get one.  When David and I sat down, Mr. Rowe passed out a study guide for our next test.

“Ok class your next test will be on the French and Indian war” he said sounding way to over excited, “Do you know the other name for this war?” A kid named Armando Winchester raised his hand. Armando is REALLY geeky.  He always makes nothing below a 98, he makes me sick sometimes with his nasally voice.

“7 Years War,” Armando explained with emphasis in his annoying voice. Gosh, he makes me want to puke my guts out. After we did our lesson on French and Indian War aka 7 Years War, as Armando answered. The bell rang shortly after and Mr. Rowe made me stay after the bell. I was kind of excited because I hate my 2^nd period. That is the only class I don’t have with my friends. Its PE. The dreaded PE was the only class that made me feel uncomfortable. Every day we have to dress out, and the evil PE teacher makes you run around the whole school and sometimes on hot days do laps in the pool. I love swimming but only when I want to...with my friends.

“Ms. Levi could you come here, please,” Mr. Rowe called after me during my crappy thoughts about PE.

“Yes,” I said trying to sound respectful. Mr. Rowe is very attractive for his 50-ish year old age. I hope I wasn’t the only one that thought this about Mr. Rowe, I feel kind of icky thinking about it.

“I heard about your tough times at home,” Mr. Rowe said sitting down at his desk. “I also had tough times with my parents growing up, my dad was on crack and my mother was a prostitute,” I was really shocked hearing about his childhood. It was a whole lot worse than mine. But then again at least his mom didn’t die trying to give birth.

“I’m sorry to hear about that,” I said trying to sound interested. I cared but I wanted him to get to the point already. Then again I didn’t want to go to the hell of PE.

“Its fine,” he said lowering his head but then putting it back up to look into my eyes, “I just want you to know that you don’t have to be afraid to talk about it with me.” I didn’t know what to say to that. I liked that he cared and all but something about this made me feel weird. I never talk about my family life unless it’s my friends, and even then I don’t tell them everything.

“I’d like that Mr. Rowe; I have to go now,” I said lamely, “Talk to you tomorrow.” I walked out of the room, slowly.

Author's Note

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