Love is a Death Trap (First in the Series)

~ 1 ~

Dear Mom,

Ok. First day of Junior year. Today went like every other first day of school. The teachers called role and checked schedules and all that. I met up with Danielle and Lilac at lunch, and we talked happily about what went on during our summers.

There's this one new guy that was in my Spanish class who made a remark about my hand-writing. It wasn't like his penmanship was any better! Maybe even a bit worse. I think his name was Wilson, but I don't care enough to try and remember. We got into this little smack-talking battle, and we both ended up getting detention because of it. Like, Ms. Smithers, I get that you don't want to have a noisy classroom, but we weren't that loud!

But, it's whatever. The good thing is that I'm home now, and with minimal homework. The detention will take place tomorrow, and I can't say I'm going to enjoy spending an hour of my time sitting and staring at a mini rival. When I called Rhea- you know, my older sister?- about the whole thing, she wasn't exactly sympathetic. Actually, she was rather annoying.

"You know guys only mess with girls when they find them attractive right?" she stated playfully. I groaned and flipped the camera so that all she could see was my navy-blue bedspread. She giggled and I sighed with agitation.

"You know I don't believe in love," I grumbled, flipping the camera again. She sighed and shook her head sadly, her short brown hair falling in her eyes. As she brushed it away from her face, I ended the conversation with a, "Well, I should probably get started on this homework before I forget. Ms. Smithers doesn't seem like the type who is very forgiving when it comes to deadlines. See you later," I said quickly, then promptly hung up the phone. I then went to find the current book I'm reading. Pride and Prejudice. I smile as I flop back onto my bed and open the cover with a happy sigh. Screw you homework, I've got books to read.

One might say that PaP is an old book. And they might be right. It was recommended to me by my aunt, who's in her forties. But, alas, it continues to keep me in an easy state of happiness. Books do that.

Well wishes,

Anne-Marcie May