One.

Monday, November 9th, 2009

Willow walked through the doors of Strayken High school, with most eyes on her. She squirmed under their gaze. It wasn’t that she wasn’t used to it, not that at all. The staring was normal, she was pretty, smart, fun, life of the party. She was used to people staring. But this, this was a different kind; it showed their disappointment in her, getting married in her senior year. Some had expected better than that.

But, for others, they knew it was coming. Willow’s husband, Drew, had graduated last year, a year ahead of her, but when he had been at the school, they were always the ‘it’ couple. They were the ones that everyone looked up to. The ones that other couples envied. Everyone knew they would be one of the few high school sweethearts to actually survive out in the real world.

Knowing this, she shifted her mood drastically, head held high, and she shifted her hands, so that her left hand was on display, for the whole world to see, her ring gleaming brightly. She walked to her locker, where her best friend stood, waiting for her. The second Jenny Carter saw her friend, the girls were locked in a tight embrace.

“Jen, I missed you!” The red head squealed happily as she held her best friend.

“Will, how was the honeymoon?” She pulled back and wiggled her eyebrows. Willow rolled her eyes. Of course, the sex was the first thing Jen had cared about. She knew that in the four years Will and Drew had been together, not once had they had sexual intercourse, until they were married, that is.

“I’m not explaining. You know what happened. Now, what’s happened here? Anything new in the two weeks I’ve been gone?”

“Not really, except Mr. Sunderland got fired, and his replacement is supposed to show his face today. So, you’re right on time.” Willow pouted slightly, her and Mr. Sunderland had been close; he was the one teacher she could talk to about school work and feel comfortable.

But, that could be because of the sole fact that he taught her favorite subject: English. She was a writer, and from what she had been told, a fairly good one at that. She wrote about everything and anything, perfect sanctuaries where anyone could get away to. It was a more than a hobby, it was a passion.

She felt about writing much like her twenty year-old husband felt about acting. He was becoming well known, and was able to support them fully. She was dreading the day he got a job far away from home. Being away from him for a week seemed like much too long, she wouldn’t survive two months.

But, it was something she would have to get over, her husband would soon be in high demand.

“Why’d he get fired? And who’s the replacement?”

“Not sure, for both. Guess we’ll have to wait until last period.”

“Guess so,”

|~|~|~|

Lunch. The one part of the day where almost anyone can get to you. The school was small, most free periods were during ‘A’ lunch. There was almost no avoiding.

Including obsessive, crazy, love struck teen boys.

Obsessive, crazy, love struck teen boys names Nathaniel Adams.

He was a junior, only a grade lower than Willow, and had been in love with the girls since seventh grade. Buying her expensive gifts on Valentine ’s Day, Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, every holiday you could think of. Not to mention her birthday.

Every other Monday, he brought her an assortment of different roses. Every other Wednesday, the finest chocolates. Then, finally, every other Friday, he would either perform a song or poem he wrote for her. Or perhaps show a PowerPoint full of the pictures he had taken of her in the past two weeks. It was his day to be creative.

Of course, Willow wouldn’t turn him in, or anything. The boy wasn’t a threat to her, just a little annoying. He didn’t stalk her around, like some did. The pictures he took of her were ones he got when they happened to be in the same period, or at lunch. He never purposely followed her around. And, for Drew. Well, Drew did see Nathaniel as a threat to his wife, and didn’t like it. Nathaniel didn’t hate Drew, he put up for him, for what had to be for Will’s purpose.

Sometimes Willow wondered why Nathaniel acted this way. They had never dated, never really been friends. But in seventh grade, something changed. And, he started to try to hang around. They became more of acquaintances then. They hung out with the same group of friends, for the most part.

Then, in eighth grade, Andrew Castro moved into the house right across the street from Willow. They hit it off from here.

To say in the least, Will heard from Nathaniel a lot more than usual after that, even before her and Drew were dating.

Now that she was back, she was sure she was gonna get hell.

Nathaniel walked slowly up to the table where Willow, Jenny, and their other two best friends, Nina and Stacy were residing. “Hey,” He said softly, sitting in the open seat beside Stacy.

“Hey, Nathaniel.” Willow could never take it to be any less than nice to him. He was too… good.

“How was your,” Gulp. “Honeymoon?”

“It was fun, thanks for asking.” The table was silent.

“Well, it’s Monday, so, here,” He pulled out an assortment of roses, every shade of purple you could imagine. Of course, they weren’t naturally purple, she wasn’t sure how he did it.

“They’re beautiful.” He knew very well that her favorite color was purple.

“They bring out your eyes,” He said, before smiling at her and her friends, and getting up, walking out of the lunch room.

“He’s too sweet.” Nina commented.

“That’s what makes it the hardest.”

|~|~|~|

Finally.

It was time for English.

The honeymoon for her and Drew had been very… eventful, and she hadn’t much time to write, her release.

This was a relief.

Her and Jenny walked through the halls, eyes still on Willow. They walked to Mr. Sunderland’s old room, and a feeling of serenity washed over them. They tool their normal seats, in the middle row, all the way against the wall.

The class was full of people already, waiting for the new teacher. He had been the center of gossip all day. Apparently, he was young, and good looking. She had yet to see herself.

Finally, the door creaked open.

“Sorry I’m late, I was a little caught up. Anyways, I’m your new English teacher, call me Mr. Gaskarth.”

The End

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