pencil vs paper

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I HAVE MY written driving test TODAY agahslalakaj

The bell for first period rings out, and I jump up from my seat, ready to escape my Prob & Stat classroom.

I slept through most of the lesson because of several reasons:

(1) I was exhausted.
(2) Mrs. Deere's monotonous voice wasn't helping.
(3) I was fuçking exhausted

I start heading to the art wing, where my favorite class resides. I could get a hour of solitude; just the sound of my music and my pencil against paper. The classroom is nearly full when I get in, and I find my usual seat in the back.

My sketchbook stares back at me, empty and ready to be tattooed with immature sketches and unsure drafts. I just let my hand and pencil move at their own accord and draw whatever comes to mind.

The outline of angel wings is soon mapped out on my paper. (Coincidence? I think not.) I flip to the next page, because I didn't want to think about the fact that I now had some guardian angel out to look after me like I'm a child. 

I've survived this long without help. My problems were so miniscule compared to the rest of the world. I didn't need Eros.

My parents were on business trips half my childhood, and my sister and I were left to grow up by ourselves. We relied on one another, and promised we would never drift apart. I didn't need fucking Greek Salad to come salvage my life, I could get my shit together myself. 

I kept repeating that to myself till it became the truth.

The bell rings suddenly, ending the period and prompting out of my thoughts.

The halls are packed with people and even getting out my classroom is a struggle- but I manage to shove past people and don't bother apologizing. I'm saying hasta la vista in a couple months to all these people anyways.

I continue my uphill battle through the suffocating crowd, and couldn't resist snapping at a guy who decided my boob was a comfortable place to rest his elbow as he also pushed through the crowd.

I finally reach my English classroom after my strenuous journey, and sink down in my seat quickly.

"Today, we are starting a new book. I'm passing it out right now- we are going to be reading Beowulf for the next couple of weeks..." I trail off, uninterested in her rambling.

A book lands on my desk and a full cover stares back at me. The book is clearly in terrible condition, with the cover ripped nearly everywhere; it looked like someone had dropped it in water and then dried it with a blow dryer.

That's high school English for you.

Ms. Roshan launches into a lecture about the book, and as much as I try to focus on her words, everything seems to fly past me - words jumbling together, the world blurring.

About 20 minutes into Ms. Roshan's lecture, the door creaks open, and every head looks up at the mystery guest. Tall is the first word that come to mind when said stranger saunters in.

"You must be Leo Reyes." Ms. Roshan looks flustered at being unprepared and her eyes flit nervously to Leo's.

"Yes," a smooth voice replies.

The only thought running through my head is: This school doesn't need another fûckboy.

"Find a seat and here's the book we're about to start."

He nods curtly and sits in the empty seat in front of me. This Leo guy is a goddámn skyscraper, and if I wasn't tall, I'd barely be able to see over him.

"What page are we on?" Pale brown eyes meet mine and a voice is directed at me. Something is unusual about his gaze and I want to know what it-

"Five," I respond, putting a halt to my thoughts from going any further, "Top of the page."

"Thanks." And he turns around, facing forward again. The back of his head seems to be my view for the rest of the year.

At least it was a semi-decent one.

GUYS GUYS I PASSED MY DRIVER'S ED TEST. I CAN GO GET A PERMIT WHEN I'M 16.

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