Her hair,

as wavy as the ocean.

Her smile,

mysterious as the blue.

Her lips,

speak with such motion.

Her kind,

with empathy times two.

Her cute,

like a love potion.

Her name,

only if I had a clue.

My hand writes across my empty paper with no thought, only just naturally spacing out from the real world. Yesterday I left early, I couldn't take much after that incident, honestly. I've never felt an emotion like this.

I hate it.

At the same time, I love it.

Now I'm in Language Arts, and we're just finishing up these pages of work we had to do last night. Thankfully, due to me coming home early, I actually finished the pages up! I'll just turn it in with everyone else, so I don't appear suspicious.

Blinking, I stare at the poem I wrote. It's not the best, but it's just my writing. I sometimes write songs, but they end up being in the trash the next day. I'd throw this one away too, but I just can't think straight.

My teacher for the subject, Amethyst, walks over to me curiously. "Whatcha doing, Ruby? Is something the matter?"

She's my favorite teacher, the most chill one I know. Not so strict, she provides a class period of relief for me. Her long hair is down, with a casual tee shirt and jeans. Amethyst would probably wear a pair of jean shorts, but teachers aren't aloud to do that. For some odd reason, I'm actually happy someone came to my aid in these dark, emotional times.

My words, as choppy as lettuce, respond. "Uh- I'm- Fine?" I sputter, covering the piece of paper that has the poem with my hand. I cross my legs under the desk in less average casualness that's possible.

"Pft, you aren't fine." Amethyst's lips crease into a small smirk, knowing that there's definitely something wrong with me. I'm not that obvious, am I?

I take a deep sigh. "Just fine. Trust me." I reply, covering up the paper more, my arms sliding across the desk. My words sound so forced, I'm just losing control of my whole life.

Okay, I'm pretty obvious.

"Are you hiding somethin', or am I just hallucinating from all of my coffee this morning? Seriously though, the teacher's room really puts the express in expresso." Amethyst chuckles, eyeing my paper under my arms.

I shake my head, but Amethyst still doesn't give up on her search for what I'm hiding for. "Nope. I can see it in your eyes, Ruby. Gimme the paper."

"Gimme?" I wince. "How are you even the English teacher-"

"Reasons, now can you just hand that piece of recycled tree to me now?"  Amethyst takes her hand out, ready to grab the paper from me easily.

With some courage still left in me, I don't hand my teacher the paper. Shaking my head back and forth, I am still stuck on the fact my poem doesn't even sound good at all. It's just embarrassing.

"Ruby."

"Why?" I argue.

"Give."

"Why???" I contend.

"Girl."

"Why?????" I reason.

"Please." Amethyst grabs it from me as my arms slip away from the paper. Well, this is just terrible.

Amethyst peers at the paper, her eyes scrolling through every word carefully. Is she going to laugh at me for writing that? Is she going to tell everyone in the class I'm a lovestruck freak? Is she going to toss it in the trash? Is she going to take it to her desk and hide it for the rest of the day? Is she going to lecture me on how I wasn't doing my work when I should've? Is she going to tease me for the rest of the year? Is she going to go to the front of the class and read it to everyone?

Thankfully, she did none of those things. What a relief.

"Wow..." She says, her expression far more serious. "That's...."

"What?!?" I impatiently respond, this whole thing with her reading the paper has had me worried to death practically. Super uncomfortable.

Amethyst sets the paper back down on my desk, her shoulders shrugging. "Amazing. You know, Ruby, you'd be an awesome writer someday. Writing songs and those things maybe!"

I lift my eyebrow in reluctance. "Seriously? I can't even sing, Amethyst."

"You can't, but what if someone else did? You can write the songs for them to sing! Y'know, like a collab of sorts!"

The bell rings, and I return my assignment to the teacher. On the outside I give a small thank you for the compliment, and try to be as kind as I can. Honestly, I've never actually thought some short poem I wrote in a few minutes would be that good.

Tucking the paper back into my pocket, I head to my next class period as excited as I can be.

You can write the songs for them to sing!

Aw.

Yes.