Dear Scott,
Scott I see you standing
In a crowded room all alone
Scott here I am just standing
You’re never truly alone
I’m sorry you are stuck between
Who you are and what you were
Babe all I want is for you to know
I’m fine if you choose her
But remember, Hun
If you choose her
I always will be standing here
Know that you’re never alone
“I just want Friday to get here,” I rolled my eyes as my head fell into my hands.
“You and me both, baby cakes,” Amy sighed.
I laughed, teasing her, “Baby cakes?”
“Yeah, it’s like my new catch phrase or something, leave me alone!” She threw her long blonde hair out of her face dramatically, rolling her eyes.
“Anyway, I hate Tuesdays… they drag on and on and on!”
“And on,” she added, slapping her palm down on the table.
“Exactly.”
“Ladies, really?” Mr. Mike asked, resting a hand on each of our shoulders as he crouched down in the small space between us. “Everyday, I have to tell you two that writing time is not socializing time, it’s time to write. Why do you never seem to understand that?”
“We’re discussing what we’re going to write,” Amy nodded, informing him of her agenda.
“I see, well you should be writing. What are you to thinking about writing?” he asked, trying to spark ideas for us to write about. We both sat silently, blankly staring at him before he added, “How are the Dear Friend letters coming?”
I sighed, looking down at the fresh paper in front of me. “They’re coming.”
“I see. Did something happen recently with this person?” he prodded.
“I don’t know. There’s always something happening with this person,” I rolled my eyes, plopping my head into my hands dramatically. God Mr. Mike! Go away! Scott was the last thing I wanted to talk to my English teacher about.
“I see,” he said again, scratching his chin. His aged hair fell over his eyes as he stared off at a piece of empty wall across the room, deep in thought. “Well maybe you should take a break from writing letters,” he decided. “I mean maybe the reason why you aren’t writing one now is because you’ve just had enough of this writing letters business for a few days.”
“But I write one everyday,” I interrupted, squinting my eyes at him. “I can’t just not write one.”
“Well then write one later, on your own time. Meanwhile, you can write about something else during class.”
The bell rang then, sounding the end of class. Mr. Mike stood, checking his watch, surprised at how quickly the class period had gone by. “Don’t forget to finish your entries, guys,” no one listened, their ears already tuned in to their iPods or their conversations with friends.
“Bye, Mr. Mike,” Amy said, maneuvering around him as she headed towards the door.
“Goodbye ladies, keep up the writing!”
ESTÁ A LER
Dear Scott
Ficção Adolescente"Growing up around fairytales, Disney princesses and teen films, we are raised to believe that happy endings are always in store for us. But more often than not, reality sinks in, and the happy ending doesn't occur. Especially in high school. The ma...
