Chapter 1

               I drum my fingers on my legs along with the music playing in my ears, as I sit down in the grass, enjoying the breeze of the fresh air around me, making my wavy brown hair sway along with the wind. My toes are buried in the grass, my flip flops on either side, and my head rests on my textbook and paper filled backpack.

 

                My green eyes are closed, though any sunlight is already blocked by the Willow tree I lay under in the school yard. I ignore the slight dew in the grass seeping through my dark jeans and white shirt, not caring if anyone would notice blotches of white on my back once schools starts and I have to leave my peaceful haven.

 

               As I mention the bell, it lets out a loud ring, signaling the start of class in five minutes. I sit up on my bottom and pack away my iPod, letting it rest in the small pocket on the front of my backpack. I slid into my green flip flops and walk my way into school, ignoring stares and whispers of the people around me like I usually do. I enter the building and trudge my way onto the first period of the day, which is drama. I have no clue why I picked that class. I have no interest in becoming an actor or director or script writer. It was probably because they had no other classes available. Do not get me wrong, I love literature, just not the acting part.

 

                I love the writings of Shakespeare and Edgar Allan Poe and Arthur Miller, but when asked to reenact these magnificent stories and plays, my mind just does not comprehend the world of acting and emotion. It is like putting a robot on stage, giving him a Shakespeare novel, and make him read the play with emotion. That is how I am. A robot on stage. I can read the lines, but putting any emotion in the story is just impossible of me. Not after what happened in my past.

 

             I walk into the multicolored room of Mr. Holland, the crazy drama teacher that runs this joint, and sit in the seat farthest away from the front of the room. No one sits next to me or in front of me, as I am known as the “freak” after some events in the eighth grade formal, right before high school started. Three years later, and no one has forgotten what happened. It feels like they won’t let me forget what happened.

 

                Sure, I put on a brave front day in and day out, but on the inside I am slowly dying because of all the torture these people have out me through. I used to be that girl without a care in the world. I used to have many friends and I had a life. My family treated me like I actually belonged with them. Now, they just nag at me for everything I do wrong, even if I do not even do anything. They think I will do a repeat of what happened at the end of eighth grade. But in reality… I never did anything. Nothing at all. I was framed and humiliated in front of the whole town by my best friend. Sorry, ex-best friend, Landon Reynolds.  

 

            I will never forgive him for what he did to me. He could kill himself and I would not care. He deserves it. What I do not understand is why he did it. I never did anything wrong to him. I was the best friend a person could be, and yet he betrayed me like I was nothing. Like I had never saved him from…. I’d rather not go into that.

 

            I am brought out of my thoughts as the final bell rings and the last of the students enter the classroom, Mr. Holland trailing behind them with a stack of papers of what seems to be our next assignment. He walks over to the table and slams the papers on his desk, gaining everyone’s undivided attention and runs a hand through his already messy gray locks.

 

            “Okay class! Today we will be starting a two month project with a partner,” with that being said, everyone in the class groans or looks around for a suitable partner while I just roll my eyes. “Settle down! Okay. I will be assigning your partners, so do not get too excited.” This causes another round of groans and another round of me rolling my eyes.

 

            “Landon, please pass out these papers to everyone while I explain,” Mr. Holland directs, passing a stack of papers to Landon. Oh yeah, did I mention he is in this class? FML.

            
            He starts to pass out the papers while Mr. Holland continues to explain what we will have to do.

 

            “What Landon is handing out now, will be the guidelines of your project. What you will do with your partner is come up with a short story play, given a certain genre. Now, this theme will be constant. Meaning, let’s say for example, if I say your theme will be a musical, you will come up with your own musical. If I say it has to be a western theme, you will be writing a western play, and so on. Now, that the basis is covered, I will get on to the exciting part.

 

                "In three weeks, I will be collecting your script from you and your assigned partner. After I have checked your scripts and returned them back to you, you will be performing your plays at the end of these two months. But that’s not all folks!” he says in the annoying imitation of that pig from Cartoon Network of the Looney Toons show, earning more groans and sighs from the students, including me.

 

            “You will be treating this like an actual play. There will be costumes and propsand an audience. YES! AN AUDIENCE! You will be putting on a show for the whole school! The stage crew that helps with the actual school plays will be helping you with your props and settings. Anything you buy will come from your pocket, not the school. Remember, costumes do not mean wearing Victorian hats or flapper dresses or tuxedos. It is whatever that fits your scene and your story and your setting. So please chose your props and costumes and everything wisely, and do NOT make your parents go bankrupt. Any questions before I continue?” Mr. Holland asks before continuing. When no one raises their hands, he continues.

 

            “Okay then! I have already paired you up in groups of two and given you your genres and themes. Please get together with your partner and brainstorm any ideas you have on a piece of paper. You will not always be working in class, so you will have to meet outside of class. I request you exchange contact information. Okay then, here we go…” he started off with the list, giving the genres and themes. People would either high-five if they got paired up with a friend or groan if they did not know someone. Halfway through the list, and Mr. Holland calls my name.

 

            “Miss Journey and Mr. Landon, you will be working together. Your genre will be a tragic romance.”

 

            Wait a second. Did he just pair me up with Landon? The Landon I hate more than anything in the world.

 

            My life sucks.

 

            I see him glance at me from the corner of my eye, and see him walking towards me with his belongings. His friends exchange remarks to him, like “Good luck with that freak,” or “man, you are unlucky,” or a variation of both. Whatever it was, it was insulting. He high fives some of his friends before coming to sit in the seat next to me.

 

            I tighten the grip on my pencil as he finally plops down and puts his bag on the side of his chair.

 

            “Hey, what’s up,” he says calmly, acting like nothing ever happened, like he was suddenly my best friend again. I can literally kill Mr. Holland right now. But instead of plotting his death, I reply back to Landon like I’ve forgotten everything.

 

            “Nothing, just plotting up ways to kill Mr. Holland,” I say in a bored voice, when I am panicking on the inside.

 

            “I know right, this project is crazy,” he replies while chuckling showing is straight white teeth. That’s what you think, I say in my mind.

 

            “I wasn’t talking about the project,” I say bored again, implying the past.

 

            His smile is automatically wiped off his face and his blue eyes aren’t glowing anymore, but clouded.

 

            “Listen, I just wanna say tha�"“he starts to say, but I cut him off, knowing what was about to come next.

 

            “Sorry doesn’t cut it. It never will. Because of you I lost my family and friends, for something I never did,” I say sharply, making him wince as he discovers what happened to me. Remorse enters his face, but I simply look away.

 

            “Please, just hear me out,” he says, his blue eyes pleading, when I turn back to look at him.

 

            “No one listens to me, so why should I listen to you. Besides, you can’t take back what you did three years ago. It’s been too long and you’ve lost your chance,” I say once more, thinking about the day I lost everything.

 

            Thankfully the bell rung just in time before he could say anything else. I leap out of my seat, collecting my stuff as fast as I can, and bolt it out the door, not bothering to stop and listen to the pleads of Landon calling my name.

 

            No one listened to me, so why should I start listening to him? I ask again.

Reviews

[Sunkissed Circus]

I'm hooked. haha, I'm so curious as to what could have possibly happened that ruined her life.

My only critique is sometimes you tend to repeat words in consecutive sentences. I do it too, so it's not uncommon, but I try to be aware of it. I think there was a paragraph where "continue" was used in excess; just to give you an example to think about.

Well, I'm off to chapter two! Keep writing! I like it