“Miss Carter! I am not going to tell you again, there are no phones allowed in the wonderful learning environment that the state of California has wonderfully prepared for you with tax dollars. Put it away please!”

My head shoots up from my lap, where I was scrolling through Instagram on. But of course a lie slides off my tongue instantly “Oh, Mr.H, I apologize for the misunderstanding, but you've been mistaken.”

I realize how formal I sound so I decide to tone it down, “You see, I was using my phone as a calculator because of course, stupid old me, left hers in her locker. And as you are very well aware of, calculators are a must in geometry.”

I don't know how I do it, but I can make up stories and explain them with such confidence, that he will definitely believe my perfectly crafted excuse.

That is why of course in the next few seconds, you might imagine my surprise when Mr.H‘s face lights up with amusement as he clears his throat.

My eyes scan the classroom until the realization slaps me across the face. Dammit. I forgot that this is 6th period English, not 7th-period geometry.

I try to recover but my voice is filled with defeat, “Did I say calculator? I'm sorry, I meant dictionary.com because this is English, not geometry.”

His answer confirms that this conversation is over, “Miss. Carter, please put your phone away. And next time I have to tell you, you will be placed in a room after school hours, where your phone will be taken from you for the time being. Consider yourself lucky that I'm in a good mood today. Or else you would have double detention. One for your phone, and one for lying.”

I breathe out and mutter a thank you. Mr.H has always been nice to me. He has caught me on my phone numerous times. So I do not doubt that he will go through with assigning me detention next time.

I sit through the rest of the class with a look or boredom on my face as I daydream about anything but Anne Bradstreet's poems, which is what we are reading and analyzing. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime the sound of the bell fills my heart with joy.

Right as I am about to slip through the doorway, Mr.H calls me back to his desk.

I let out a groan and turn around. Some of my fellow classmates send me looks of pity, others just snicker as they venture into the freedom of the hallways.

I mentally prepare for the speech that I will be receiving. It will probably be something about principles and being respectful during class, blah, blah, blah.

“May I help you?” I put on a sweet innocent voice that I think we both know is an act.

He coughs, clearing his throat, as he scrambles through a few papers on his desk. My eyes widen with shock as he reveals two pieces of notebook paper. I recognize my handwriting immediately.

Before he starts to speak, my mind instantly wanders off into a dark place. I can only imagine the horrible things he‘ll say. I envision him using the words “disgraceful” and “awful” as he rises from his chair and crumples my papers. He‘ll then proceed to throw them on the floor and to wet them his spit. Then he will step on them for good measure and finally, he shall ban me from his classroom.

“It has been brought to my attention that you are,” I begin my prayers, hoping he won't be too harsh, “a great writer with a large amount of potential.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“Thank you? I don‘t know what to say, honestly. I always thought that my writing was bland” I blush, still recovering from the fact that he thinks that I have potential.

He encourages me to enter my story into a competition. Apparently, with some small editing, my story has a chance at winning.

All that I can answer with is “Wow. I'd really have to think about that, I don't think I'd win, but there's no loss in trying. So, maybe.”

“Alright, well I highly recommend this. You are absolutely right, there is no harm in trying. Here, I'll write you a pass for your next class. When you decide, let me know.” He smiles as he pulls out a pen and begins to scribble on a piece of paper.

When he holds it out, I return to my confident self. I take the paper, send him a smile, flip my hair, and begin to the exit the room.

All I hear as I leave is him calling out, “Oh and Sabrina! One more thing, don‘t let how others see you shape who you are. You're a smart girl, and dumbing yourself down for others to see won't do you much in the long run.”
**

I walk into my next class and smile at the beautiful sight of a substitute. I hand her my pass and take my seat in the back. On the board, there is an assignment. I begin to grab a textbook when I realize that only the nerdy freshman is working on his work. As much as I would like to finish my work, I don't.

Instead, I whip my phone out and pull up my best friend, Emmagin‘s contact.

Hey, Starbucks after school, I'll drive?

Her answer is quick.

Omg!Yes! Of course! Meet you in the parking lot after school, unless…. You want to casually walk by Chandler and take the long way through the courtyard? ;)

No thank you…. I am so over him. But I'll see you by my car, love.

I never actually liked Chanler that much. I'm just expected to be a flirt so  I let others mold me into what I am. I know that that isn't the way to go through life. But I don't really know any other way. Most people turn out like their parents, but mine aren't around too much.

And as much as I love Em, I can never really tell her how I feel about my life. She has a lot going on in her life, and my problems will just be a distraction.

I spend the rest of the period editing and choosing selfies to post.
**

Hello fellow writers and readers! I have gotten some good criticism from a few people from the book club that I joined. It's on my page under a reading list labeled "Book Club Books" and you should check it out. Even if you don't write, you can still join to just read.

But anyways, I am currently editing this book, because I started it a while ago and I am realizing how cringy the grammar and spelling was. So consider this chapter offically edited!

Also, check out my new cover! Any thoughts?