I feel lifeless walking into Ms. Jones' classroom. She greets me with a smile and ushers me to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Why do I feel so drained?

"Do you know why I wanted to talk to you this morning, Jessica?" Ms. Jones questioned. I shrugged, "Am I in trouble, again?" She laughed, "No, of course not, I wanted to talk to you about your speech yesterday." Oh.. that. What's the big deal, I did the assignment, did I not?

"What about it?" I roll my eyes, I hate attention. I usually get good grades, but I hate when people make a huge deal of it. Ms. Jones sat back, sighing. "I think you should consider talking with the Guidance Counselor about your university opportunities. Also, I think you should think about taking Journalism, you're very good at arguments and critiquing things." Doubt it.

"You get straight A's in this course, and I think you have a good future ahead -" Blah. Blah. Blah. It's English, it's easy.

"You could easily become a great -" I wonder what's for lunch in the cafeteria today. Pizza? Mm.. pizza.

"Don't you agree?" I tune back into the conversation. "Oh.. I don't really think that's a good possibility for me. I don't have a chance in the big ol' world of creativity. I have my moments when I write something good, but that's about it." Looking around the classroom, I wonder how much longer that this little 'meeting' was going to take.

"Jessica! That's hardly the truth, don't sell yourself short. Consider it, all right?" Why do people always blame me for selling myself short, I'm obviously not one of those annoying overly happy people.

"I'm not selling myself short, I'm being realistic. But sure, I'll think about it." Whatever would get me out of here. I hate being alone with teachers, it's one of those awkward moments that everybody has and isn't a fan of. 

"Glad to hear! Now get to class, the bell is about to ring." I picked up my backpack, hiking it up on my shoulder. For some reason I have a feeling that Dora's going to break out in song singing 'backpack, backpack.'

"Later, Ms. Jones." I walked out and headed up the flights of stairs to math. Future. Future. That's all I see on the posters that I pass. Future, that's a scary word. I'm not one for change. I feel something on my hip. Looking down, I see a large hand resting on it. Holy shit. Spinning around, I come face to face with - or should I say, face to chest with - Alex.

This is going to be interesting.

The End

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