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Period 2, AP Honours English Literature and Composing

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BRRRRING! The bell rang. But i was already sitting in class, waiting for the love of my life: Mr. Micheal Louis. Oh, by the way, I have bright red lips, super long blonde hair, and sparkling green eyes that speak of a prolonged wistfulness long hardened by the relentless weight of reality. I like cars. It was a good day because today was the day that I was going to have a good day because Mr. Louis was bringing donuts to class. But the only thing with a hole that I wanted was his hole; the hole in his heart that only could be filled with me. Or by me. If you know what I mean (*wink wink*). This was chapter 1. I will have a good day. 

"OH NO!" I ejeculated as John Jon Kook burst into the room with his boyfriend/supermodel/feminst Mineta Minorio. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE JOHN JON KOOK AND YOUR BOYFRIEND/SUPERMODEL/FEMINIST? MINETO MINARIO."


A frown tugs at John Jon Kook's lips as he brushes by the desks and takes a seat across from me. "Saticoy, me and my boyfriend/supermodel/feminist, Mineta Minirio, need your help!"


"But, Mr. Louis is bringing donuts today and I want a taste of his hole." I will say, frowning. The frowns looks sad.


"NONESENSE! DONUTS CAN WAIT but the force can not!" He shouted back.




Mineta Menoria, the boyfriend/supermodel/feminist, nods. "That is completely understandable. We'll find someone else."

Both of them leave just as Mr. Louis bursts into the room with a box of croissants. There were no donuts. I started to cry. They slide down my cheeks, in fat, unwelcome droplets that splatter the classroom tiles in a mocking display of my own misery. 


Mr. Louis doesn't even notice. Instead, he touches my ass. (AUTHORS NOTE: If you're under the age of age, don't keep reading!!!!! PLEASE!)

"You love me, don't you?" The words slip from Mr. Louis' tongue in melted, honey, blanketing the air and slowing Saticoy's heart to a dull throb. For a moment, time itself seems to still as she wades through the weight of his words; each passing through her as if she was made of nothing at all.

Maybe she was. After all, Saticoy had defined herself for so long by flickers of passion and unrequited love--but when that love became requited...did it strip her of all she'd become? 

Her voice catches in her throat, still stuck from the honeyed tone she'd drowned in: "I'm not sure anymore."

"You dumbass. You get an F," he says, sliding his hand off my badonkadonk and into his pocket. "See you in class."

"But we are in class!"

"I don't care!"

"But, Mr. Louis?" I take his hand, batting my eyes in what I could only hope was attractive. "I need you."

"Oh?" He quirks an eyebrow in my direction, a smile crawling along the corner of his mouth. How I wish I could punch that mouth of his.



"Understandable." I say, starting to cry.