Home  |  Hot Books!  |  Sign in  |        

Like it?
Share it!

from Don't Let Go by Karla Martinez

Copyright © 2019 Karla Martinez

First Signal

One more reason to hate school was because of those never-ending classes I had to endure. They were a punishment to all of us spoiled brats that loved to have free time. Serving up to its good name, and prestigious reputation, Horizon High was mostly a way for parents to get their rotten good for nothing children out of their houses. The system was great. They kept everyone in check and bored to death. Strict enough overall, but when it came to the staff, they had to make a better effort. Mr. Gailes was the perfect example of it. 

His forty-five minutes long class of Classic Literature and Poetry was a torture. Not the class I wanted to start the day with, and apparently not just for me. The feeling was evident on everyone's faces. Personally, I didn't have anything against Mr. Gailes, but his class was seriously something that needed a lot of motivation to endure. It's not that I didn't like poetry; it was just that, seriously. The poor man had no way to pull people in. He was just a simple middle-aged guy with a robot-tone voice. Talking about how amazingly written the tragic story of Romeo and Juliet was. We knew it really was impressive, but the way he carried himself was something just to make fun of. 

He looked more like a guy that would spend his mid-forties locked in his parent's basement. Playing video games, eating pizza, and using dating sites to get to know someone, but definitely not here. Not talking to twentysomething students about classic literature. Most of the students taking his class, including myself, were kind of forced by the circumstances. Not a personal choice. Well, except for me. 

My personal circumstance was him. Cameron. For him I had to endure the depressing poems like Because I Could Not Stop for Death by Emily Dickinson. For sure, I wasn't the only girl with the same motives. Chloe, Danielle, and Zoe were in the same situation. All I could hear coming from their corner was yawning, pencil tapping nonstop, and whispering. I couldn't blame them, but I felt lucky enough to be the one sitting right in front of Cameron. At least I had him to talk to if I ever got bored, which I was all the time. But, in the end I respected Mr. Gailes' effort, and I didn't want to be like the rest of the class and hate on his teaching. 

"Sam..." I could hear Cameron right behind me. My heart reacted immediately at the deep sound of his voice. I ignored it though. This was all I could do to keep my dignity, pretend I wasn't impressed by anything he did. 

All around Cameron was a notable aura of superiority. It was intimidating, but captivating at the same time. He always carried a cranky expression on his face, but it was just that. The way his thick eyebrows would curve in a perfect angle was something to admire. He would never raise his voice or show any expression, but when Miles could manage to get on his nerves, clearly the corner of his right brow twitched in a way I actually found attractive. Maybe because most of the time the guy looked like an emotionless robot. Mr. Gailes kept of reading his depressing poem, as I concentrated on ignoring Cameron while playing with my hair. 

I loved how my heart reacted to his tactics to call for my attention. It was different from the girls close to him. Rocky and I were a few of the ones Cameron would bother on making an extra effort for. With Tanya it was totally different, she gained his respect and he definitely made sure to let her know that. 

"Alright, now we will see how much of that you paid attention to." Mr. Gailes made everyone groan in distress. I sighed hoping to at least remember some of what he was trying to push in our brains. 

"Now you will write in your own words, what the author is trying to portrait," Mr. G said as he passed a questioner to every row. I giggled to see Miles f...

Read books      FAQ      Contact me      Terms of Use      Privacy Policy

© 2020 Dream, Play, Write! All rights reserved.