I was sitting in the classroom, oblivious of what was being taught at the moment. I couldn’t wait to get out of this school, filled with bullies, nerds, and work. Every time I tell someone I hate schoolwork, they immediately judge me and think I’m just a lazy teenager that has no future. That’s the complete opposite of myself.
I want to live, live a life that worth living. I don’t just want to sit here and not fulfill my dream of becoming a famous author. That’s right: author.
So many people think reading is for nerds or geeks, but its not. It’s a way to express your feelings on a certain topic like love, fairies, or elves, without the readers knowing there actually your feelings.
I’m Lyla Arledge. And I want to make a difference in writing.
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My olive skin tingled as the air vent in English class kicked on with a loud force. I was so focused on my work, crouched down close to my deck as I was writing a novel. My black hair fell into my bright blue eyes, as my pencil glided across the paper with such grace.
“Lyla. Where is your work?” Mrs. Grate asked strictly.
“I didn’t do it. It seemed un-necessary and I didn’t agree to your writing terms you taught everyone.” I said quietly. I heard soft snickers go across the room.
“Excuse me?” she asked shocked.
“I think that anyone can write whatever they want to. You can’t tell people they can’t write about a topic they thoroughly believe in.” I said, raising my voice louder than before.
“Office. Now.” Mrs. Grate ordered.
I got up slowly with a frown on my face. As I was walking to the door, I heard a deep male voice say, “Oh, Lyla. You’re such a rebel.” I turned around and Conner was smirking at me with his handsome face and his stormy grey eyes were sparkling.
I shot a quick glare at him and continued my way to the office.
As I walked in the office, the superintendent Ms. Harper said, “Oh, Lyla, what have you done now?”
I forced a small smile and muttered, “Freedom of opinion?”
She gave me a sad smile, “Mr. Carpenter is in his office.”
I took my time walking into the principle’s office.
“Lyla, I knew I would be seeing you here again soon.” Mr. Carpenter said not looking up from his metal desk.
“Yeah, I know.” I sadly muttered.
“What have you done now?”
“I said my opinion on a writing topic because I disagreed with Mrs. Grate and now I was sent here.” Then I added, “as always.”
“Oh, yes. You’re a writer, am I correct?”
“Yeah.” I faked a smile. I can imagine how it got out that I was a writer…. Always arguing with teachers about certain things, never paying attention in class, things like that.
“Well, you do realize I still have to give you a detention??”
“Yes, I know.”
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Later on that night, I was in my room at my desk writing my novel. The lamp cast shadows across the purple wall. It felt like I was in my novel. I felt, breathed, and saw everything before me. I don’t know how it was possible, but it made me want to write more and more.
I was distracted by a light knock on my door, “Come in.”
“Honey, you have been in here all evening. Is something wrong?” My mum asked.
“Yes, mum. I guess I’m alright.” I whispered sadly.
“Did you get another detention?” She asked quickly.
“Yes. But just because I changed my opinion! Teachers are so strict!” I answered sadly.
“Oh, Lyla! Pull yourself together! You can’t just let your writing take you away from reality! I had to knock four times before you answered me because you were writing and—“
“What’s so wrong with imagining a different world!? Why can’t others see and feel what I do?” I felt my face burning.
“Because, others are concentrating on the real world, not some fake world that drags them away from their schoolwork!”
I was really starting to get angry now, “I’m going to bed. Good night.”
“Lyla—“ My mum said sternly.
“Mum, good night. I will see you in the morning.” And at that she walked out of my room.
I pulled of my trousers and put on PJ pants and an old t-shirt and hopped into bed, dreading the day at school tomorrow.
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As I walked into school the next morning, it felt like all eyes were on me. When I looked at certain people, they hastily looked away like nothing had happened. What the heck?
Once I got to my locker I quickly opened it. A voice behind me said, “So, have you heard the rumors?” I glanced back. It was Conner.
“No, and I don’t plan to get caught up in that bloody crap.” I snapped.
“Man, someone’s feisty. Well, I’m going to tell you anyway.” He smirked gorgeously, “I heard that you’re going to get in trouble again for something. I guess we will all find out in homeroom.” He smiled then walked away.
As soon as I got my books out, I slammed my locker and trudged to homeroom.
I got into the class room and once again, all eyes were on me. "Lyla," my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Hopple said, "there is someone waiting for you in the office."
