Maxerica Academy

Chapter 18

"I have a new assignment for you. It is not an essay or anything you must present. It actually only takes 6 words. It is simple to just write six words and will only take you all of 2 seconds. But you need to really think about what your writing down. Your task is to describe yourself in 6 words. You have the rest of the period to begin it," Ms. Marquee said and went to sit at her desk.

Ms. Marquee is one of my favorite teachers. She teaches english, but she always finds a way to add psychology to it. What I mean by that, is that she always gets us to deeply think about the ways of our minds and opinions. She is a young teacher who is a very deep person and wanted to become a psychologist. She actually has a minor degree in psychology  

"I do not want something that means nothing. For example, Pretty Smart Talented Musical Tall Skinny. That means nothing. Those are just physical and emotional attributes. I want something like 'music isn't just lyrics, it's me'. That is six words that describes a person who loves music. It's due Friday. Good luck," Ms. Marquee said as she pulled out a pen to grade papers.

"Ugh!" I groaned quietly and leaned my head against Maxons shoulder. I loved having him next to me "she did one about music which means I can't do one about music."

"Why can't you do it about music?" Maxon asked, furrowing his brow adorably.

"I don't know. It's like a non-written rule. You just don't do it," I whined so only he could hear.

"I think you'll do great. Music isn't the only thing that is great you, but you can't write about me......." he trailed off teasingly.

I smacked his arm lightly. "This is serious."

"I'm being serious. Music isn't the only thing that defines you. Just think. Who is 'America Singer'?"

"She's a musician!" I whisper yelled and banged my head against the table dramatically.

"What about your family?" Maxon asked.

"I wrote my last essay about them," I mumbled against the table.

"Friendship?"

"Last Friday. Meaning of friendship project."

"America this should not be so hard for you," Maxon sighed. "What's important to you? What defines you? Who is America Rose Singer?"

"I can not tell you my life story in six words," I groaned frustratingly.

"That's the whole challenging part about it. You have to earn the A," Maxon mumbles what I guess was supposed to be assuringly.

"Marlee always tells me about her 'supportive' boyfriend. Why don't I have one of those? How'd I get stuck with you?" I grumbled teasingly.

"No one can resist my irresistible charm," he said confidently.

I laughed lowly. "Now who told you that you have any of that?"

"Is everything alright Lady America?" A kind voice asked. I turned my helpless gaze to Ms. Marquee as she stared down at me.

"She Doesn't know what to right about," Maxon explained.

"That's never been an issue before," she stated.

"I guess my creative juices have ran out," I sighed dramatically. "If I can't even right six words maybe I'm just less than six words."

"Hmmmm. Well to think of that," is all she says as she wonders away.

What's that supposed to mean?

I groaned and placed my head back in its rightful spot on the table.

~oOo~

Come on America. Think of all those times you would fight for what you believe in. Well silently. What about 'I'm not defined by my caste'. I shook my head. That was too political. And all it said was I'm not happy with my caste number. Which is technically a two, so that wouldn't be a very good thing. And that's not what I'm trying to say. I want it to be about me not my options on life.

I tapped my pen on the notepad and crossed out that idea quickly. I noticed the now full page of ideas and fragments of ideas. That's the third completely finished paper and I stillness don't have an idea. I crumpled the page and threw it in with the others. In the trash can. In the library. Where I've been for hours.

"Having trouble there?" A voice ringed. I didn't need to turn to know it was the teacher who gave me this horrid assignment in the first place.

"Yes," I complained.

"Well what did I say to you?"

"You said 'well to think of that'," I huffed, not understanding how this was helpful.

"And I always say that when I want you to do what?"

"Think about it," I relied.

"So why aren't you?"

"I an thinking about it. I've done so for hours. Do you not see all those ideas down there," I said indicating to the trash can at my feet.

"I see them just fine. But your not doing what I asked of you," Ms. Marquee elaborated.

"You asked me to do two things. And I've done tried doing both. Think. And describe myself in 6 words. Apparently I'm terrible at both," I sighed.

"And why six," i continued. "That's such a bizarre number. Why not 'describe yourself in one sentence'. Why six words. I can't do six words."

"Maybe your not six words," She murmured cryptically as she walked out of the library.

She's probably right. I am less than six words.

Or maybe I'm not.

~oOo~

"Okay class.  Welcome back. I hope you had a nice weekend. I graded your assignments. Some of you did well. Others if you didn't understand what I was asking. Others completed the assignment with flying colors. Here's the grades," Ms. Marquee said Monday mornings

I watched anxiously as she passed the papers around. Never taking my eyes off the stack of papers as she set then down.

"Calm down America. I'm sure you did great. You walked in here with the upmost of confidence. Surely that's a good thing," Maxon soothed.

"Great work Maxon," Ms. Marquee said as she set his paper down. She didn't say anything as she set mine down. What's that supposed to mean?   

I smiled proudly down at my A. 100%. Perfect score. I ran my thumb smoothly over the six words that got me that grade.

I am more than six words.