Written with Love

Home

"Mrs. Camille. If you are going to fall asleep in my class, at least have the decency to do it quietly please."

I raise my head to look at coach Readers, and mumble a quiet non-apologetic "sorry".

My hand races half-heartedly to write something down. After two minutes I give up again.

I try to convince myself, it doesn't really matter anyway. Nobody will actually see the paper.

I continue to stare at the almost empty paper until I give in and pick the pen back up.

Not to write useless notes. Never to write notes. Mr. Readers' classes are bird courses. Nobody actually pays attention.

I'm doing something much more important.

As soon as the pen hits the paper the words suddenly file perfectly out. Almost as if someone planted it right there.

It takes only thirty minutes to write two chapters.

I smile down at my work, two chapters in thirty minutes, pretty darn good.

Quietly, I fold the seemingly holy papers and set them inside my logic notebook.

My sudden joy quickly deteriorates when I realize there are still forty minutes left in class.

I drop my head to the table.

***

The bell jolts me from my mid-class nap.

Finally.

Before Mr. Grover can even announce homework, half the class is already in the hall walking to lunch. But before I can join my fellow class of seniors my name is called.

"Yes, Mr. Grover?" It takes everything in me to sound pleasant. I swear this man has it out for me.

He gestures towards one of the front row desks, "Mrs. Camille, I, along with several other teachers, have concerns about your class time," the sounds of bustling students covered his voice, but I nod nonetheless, "We have multiple reports of you sleeping in class, daydreaming, and not taking notes."

I barely hold back my eye roll.

"We are concerned," the crowds started to fade, "I don't want to but I think we are going to have to call your guardian-" he holds up a hand to me as if I was the one talking.

"Ok, the coast is clear."

Before I can ask what's happening he starts to rip off his face.

Wait, what!?

My mouth is practically on the floor, once the mask is pulled away, and a beautiful male's face is revealed.

"Listen, Queen Camille, we don't have much time to get out of here so I'm gonna need you to hold off the questions."

The attractive man- I say man but he looks more like nineteen- pulls out a small sphere-shaped object, "Spit on this."

I look at him with wide eyes, "Who in the mama's heck  are you?"

"I thought I said no questions till after we leave."

I start backing towards the door, "Ok, kidnapper."

Before I can even turn to sprint out the doors, he is behind me.

I almost wet my pants.

"I bet you're wondering how I just did that," I nod, "well, once we get there I'll show you. Spit."

"Once we get where?" And why does he need my saliva?

His glare sends a shiver down my body, "Home."