New Conception

-A few months later-

School is better than I expected, my classes go by pretty quick and I've made some new friends. At home it's still the same, but, it's always been like that. Today I'm not feeling too good so instead of lunch I go straight to sixth period, hoping that it's empty which it is. I lay my head down on my desk and fall asleep when all of a sudden I feel a tap on my shoulder. I look up and it's Mr. Depp. Erica: Is class over? I say in a dazed voice. Mr. Depp: No. He chuckles. Long night? Erica: Yeah, something like that. Mr. Depp: Care to talk about it? I shrug. Mr. Depp: Well when you want to talk about it let me know. He walks over to his desk, while I'm looking down and I finally mumble: My grandma died from cancer. Mr. Depp: What? He walks back over and sits next to me. Mr. Depp: Is that why your poems have been more about death lately? Erica: Poems? You actually read them? Mr. Depp: Of course, yours is actually the only ones I truly read with the mind and heart. Everybody else either talks about love, how love sucks, or how they've never been in love. You on the other hand talk about variety and it's beautiful, even when it's dark.

My sad cloud just completely went away and for some reason I'm blushing and smiling. Mr. Depp puts my hair behind my ears and lifts my small chin up with his humongous hands. Mr. Depp: Are you going to be ok? Erica: Yeah I'll be fine, I can't take the pity too much, she's the one dead. Mr. Depp: But you're the one left suffering. Erica: Well I'm use to suffering. Mr. Depp: You shouldn't be. Erica: But I am. We stare at each other and it automatically becomes awkward. I look down and my dark cloud reappears. Mr. Depp: I feel like I know a lot about you, would you like to know more about me? Erica: I don't feel like listening to a voice to be honest. He smiles. Mr. Depp: No one says you have to listen, all you have to do is look. Erica: What do you mean? Mr. Depp walks away, goes in his bag and pulls out a book. He throws it to me and I catch it. I open the book and it's filled with poems, front to back.

Erica: You're going to let ME read YOUR poems, shouldn't this be illegal in some way? He laughs and says: No, this is between me and you, just don't tell anyone that I let you read it. I look down, smile and say thanks, then I get an idea. I pull out two notebooks, a pink one and a red one and hand them to him. He reads the front out loud and he says: Love is not love, love's not time's fool... so you're a W.S kinda gal? I smile a little shocked that he was able to recognize the poem since I only took random small parts from it. Mr. Depp: I know, I know, how would I know right? Well, teachers do actually study their stuff. I nod. Erica: Um, just so you know, my true feelings and expressions are in there so... He cuts me off and says: I won't judge you if you don't judge me.

I give a shy smile. I feel naked. He's going to be the first adult to actually read some of my raw poems. I really hope I'm able to trust him. I start to read his poems as he reads mine, then the bell rings. Mr. Depp: I'll tell you what, you can finish reading that, give it back until you're done and it can be the same for me, how's about it? He smiles. He has beautiful teeth. Erica: Sure, thanks. I put his book away and begin to write a poem. Mr. Depp: Now now, don't make too many poems while I'm reading this. Erica: I can just give them to you after I'm done and you can copy them into my book, exactly the way I write it. Dr. Depp: Sounds good.

Everyone starts to slowly walk in. QT comes through quickly and looks relaxed right after he sees me. QT: What happened, I was looking all over for you. Erica: Oh I'm sorry, I wasn't feeling too good so I came here. He grabs my face with both hands and makes me look him eye to eye. QT: You alright? I smile and say yes, then the bell rings. I can feel this odd vibe. Not between me and QT, but someone else, someone else starring. Mr. Depp clears his throat. Mr. Depp: Excuse me Mr. Terrall, take your seat or I'll mark you late. QT gives him a mean mug with his eyes then looks back at me, concerned. I nod him to go and he sits down. Mr. Depp officially begins class.

After that day, everyday I start to write a poem. I don't know why but I do, more of it is focusing on being in love, knowing what its like, losing it, being in lust, loving death, everything has to do with love. Everyday I'd hand Mr. Depp a piece of paper and he would always hand me one of his back. We do this for two weeks straight and people begin to wonder. QT and Michael always ask me what's going on and I just tell him that I let him read my poems so I can better myself and he hands them back, no questions asked. I can tell that the girls get jealous, and I actually love the idea of them being jealous of me. Every night before I go to bed I read his wonderful masterpieces personally crafted by God himself. It's like a way better version of me.

His style is so pure, yet raw. He always leaves you with this wonderment of what he's really talking about, what he really means and how he means it. Every night I read his poems and start to like him more. I dream of him. I start to desire him, but I tuck those feelings away knowing that it's wrong, so I stop.