All Chapters of Literature and Love Letters (COMPLETED): Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

I walk into room 219 with my expertly written response to sonnet 18 already in my hand. I saunter up to the front desk where Thomas is busy marking up some noticeably long winded papers with a stereotypical red pen.  I hate those essays. You know, the kind that are like "I think sonnet 18 is really good because it shows how much the guy loves her. It is good because you don't see that much anymore. I love the way it is written, and I think old English is really cool..."  It's enough to make me throw up my breakfast just thinking about such disrespect to the written word.  "Hot off the press, Professor," I say with a smirk as I lay my work down on a bare spot amidst the clutter. It's the third day of class and Thomas is already a disheveled mess.  That must be a huge down side of being an English teacher. There's no grading rubric or cheat sheet. You have to sit and grade every sin

"Jeeze I haven't been out with a girl in sooo long, I don't even know how to act anymore!" Fiona admits while rifling through her entire wardrobe.  "I mean, honestly what do I wear? Boobs or no boobs?" Fiona holds a black sweater to her chest then a red low cut blouse.  "To be fair, Fiona, I'm pretty sure Clara still likes boobs. It's kinda the main appeal of being a lesbian"  I'm sitting on Fiona's bed, already completely dressed and messing around on my phone.  Before coming over I opted for a pair of tight black paints and a striped slightly cropped sweater.  I look good if I do say so myself while also being pretty comfortable. 

Fiona didn't bombard me with a million questions. She didn't try to control the radio. She didn't need an explanation or a reason, all she needed was to see me crying and she knew it was serious.  In the eight years that I've known Fiona she's cried a thousand times.  She's cried at movies and weddings. She's cried at kittens and puppies. She's very emotionally strong. She lets it out. She's in touch with the human side of herself but I'm not like that.  Fiona has only seen me cry once since  we've been friends and that was when my grandma died. I didn‘t sob, I didn't fall to pieces, but I quietly cried in the pew next to my parents.  Fiona had tagged along for e

Sophia's POV:  I had told Fiona that I just wanted to be alone, but I realized almost immediately that was a mistake.  Never before had I felt so unwelcome in my own home. It's as if the walls themselves were mocking me for my disgusting lie.  There is no one else, but that's what you're supposed to say right? That's the end all admission if you want to get someone to give up on you.  Or to hate you.  I can usually keep it together but I 'm realizing that in order to be strong I need someone to be strong for. When I'm alone I have no reason to put on a face, so I left.  I didn't even think about the fact t

So apparently, when you almost screw a guy, they become really attached to you.  The following week at school I seemed to Iind Michael everywhere. He appeared every time Fiona and I had lunch, he came by the library when I was working, and he showed up randomly at my home with food or more flowers even though my Valentine's Day roses hadn't even died yet.  I was flattered, don't get me wrong, but all together it's a bit much. The only real time I can breathe freely in when I know he has football practice.  The trip is one week away and I'm looking forward to it less knowing that he's going.  Fiona isn't allowed to go and with the temptation of Thomas lingering over me I can tell it's going to test my self control. We each get our o