"And, begin." I lifted my pencil, but I couldn't bring myself to write anything. I looked around me and saw everyone fiddling around with the subject we'd been given. I always hated English class, even though I loved to write. This expository stuff was just so... Monotonous. Is that a good word for it? I don't know.

Trying to focus, I stared down hard at my piece of paper. Blank. "Okay, topic sentence," I thought to myself. My pencil touched the first line, making a small, insignificant dot. I released a heavy sigh, and leaned on my left hand. The teacher wasn't paying attention, as always.

I wondered what he would think if I handed in one of my stories. Would he call me crazy, and take away some marks? Maybe he would love it, and bump me up a mark. Best not to think about it.

I tried focusing again. Nothing. I yawned. When I opened my eyes, I saw Jimmy in the other corner of the class, talking to himself, of course. He's a real crazy fucker; always there talking about who knows what with himself. Rumor has it that he stabbed some kid in elementary school in the middle of class. Dumbass. They call it mental illness, I call it insanity.

I stopped myself. I had to do well on this, or I would fail the class. Then I thought about Rachel, the one that always shouted out the answer in hopes of being noticed by the teacher. Such an ass-kisser, but she is hot as hell. I pulled out my phone, and opened my image gallery. Nothing unusual about what I had; just crappy pictures with crappy lighting and crappy angles. I came across some pictures I'd sneaked of Rachel. I'd almost forgotten I took them.

Tyler came out of nowhere, and I quickly shoved my phone back into my pocket. He asked what I thought of his paper. It was lame; prosaic, but I told him it was good. Tyler was always nice to me, if a little simple.

I stared at my paper again, still blank. "Fuck it," I thought. "I'll just write a story about yesterday." I only got through a paragraph before Jimmy started yelling at the teacher about some essay he got a shit mark on. It escalated pretty quickly. He pulled some scissors from the desk, and scratched the teacher as he tried to take them. The bell rang just in time to distract the crazy bastard. The office, and probably the police department, called his name after that.

I hastily packed up my things and went to the bathroom, catching my breath in one of the stalls before next class. It wasn't long before the second bell rang, and I ran for my locker.

I opened it to a horrid stench. I grabbed my the bottle of Febreze on the top shelf and sprayed it a few times. Everyone was in class at that point. I smiled. "Hi Rachel," I said. "I wrote about you in class today." No response. "Jimmy got himself caught doing crazy shit again. Dumbass." Still she said nothing. Just the way I liked it; I always preferred her body over her mind.

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