His Sunshine | ✓

Prologue - The Questionable Mentality Of The Bad Boy

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Layla's POV

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With shaking hands, I stare down at the papers in front of me, struggling to swallow without feeling as though I'm about to throw up. My eyes scan the words on the paper over and over again as I try to make sense of them. It is as if my brain thinks that perhaps if I read it enough times, it will suddenly change to something better. But of course, that can't possibly happen. Instead, a wave of dread washes over me as I sit in the hard chair, thinking of what this means for me. I need this to go well. But it hasn't and now I am lost.

Although I have been anticipating the sharp sound, the shrill of the bell still has me jumping in my seat, my eyes darting up from the paper in my hands. I stay seated while everyone else leaves before shakily standing to my feet. My footsteps sound too loud in the silent room as they carry me forward until finally, I stop in front of the large wooden desk.

Upon hearing my approach, the man I have become all too familiar with looks up at me from over the top of his glasses. A short, irritated sigh escapes his lips as he takes off his spectacles, letting them hang from the thin chain secured around his neck.

"Yes, Miss. Stevens?" He questions expectantly, analyzing me with his scrutinizing stare. I feel myself shrink under his gaze, but quickly force myself to be brave and stand up tall. With my hands still slightly shaking, I hand him my paper.

"A C, Mr. Hathaway?" I ask disbelievingly as he takes the paper from my grasp.

My English teacher fixes me with the same bored stare his face always holds, "I'm glad you can read, Miss. Stevens. Is there something I can actually help you with?"

"I thought my paper was worth more than just a C, Sir. Are you sure you don't want to read it over again?" My tone turns hopeful as I look down at him. In the back of my mind, I vaguely register the second bell ringing, but I choose to ignore it.

"I must say, it was a beautiful piece of writing," A small sigh of relief escapes me. Everything will be okay. "But," Oh no. "you didn't meet the brief."

My eyebrows immediately fly down to furrow in confusion. "What? Of course I did."

Mr. Hathaway sighs once again before taking my paper in his hands and lifting his glasses back onto the bridge of his nose. "You must write a short story that is both interesting and unique. Write something that will shock me." He places the paper back down on his desk and looks back up at me over the lens of his glasses. "You did not deliver."

"But, Mr. Hathaway-"

"No, Miss. Stevens."

"Sir-:

"A C is your final grade. This is not up for discussion. You are dismissed." He interrupts my protests once more, looking back down at the work he had been doing previously. Upon the realization that there is no way I will be changing my grade, I swipe my paper back off his desk and storm out of the classroom and into the empty hallway.

Didn't meet the brief? Are you kidding? My story is interesting! And unique! I have never read anything like it! And the ending definitely should have shocked him!

My face set into a frown, I push open the large main doors of the school and begin walking towards the school parking lot. I have never actually ditched school before, but I can't stand to spend another minute in that dreadful building. I still have a couple classes left today, but I can afford to skip them just this once.