AP English was Taylor Zimmerman's favorite class. Granted, Mrs. Edmonds wasn't the greatest teacher in the world. She was your typical stifling, no-read-ahead, this-is-what-the-author-meant-now-write-me-an-essay kind of teacher. But it didn't matter to Taylor. She got to sit around for 50 minutes every day and think critically about classic literature - what could be better than that?

It was the Thursday before finals week, which meant it was the third day of major review. Most kids zoned out or skipped classes this week, but Taylor couldn't imagine a worst time to be out of school. It gave her a chance to review everything from the entire of the semester. And, today, Mrs. Edmonds was going over Julius Caesar. Taylor was so glad that it was Julius Caesar. When they learned about it in October, she had gotten the flu and had been out of school for a week. She had missed all of Act 3!

Luckily Mrs. Edmonds was going over everything from important plot points to famous quotes. She had just begun to recite the speech from Act One, "'Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow world/Like a Colossus,' might translate to...Why was he so huge and obnoxious?"

Taylor barely had time to recognize how ridiculous her analysis was before a 5'10, 200 pound, santa burst into the room, "Ho, ho, ho!" He shouted; Taylor cringed, "Candy-cane -grams!"

Mrs. Edmonds brushed him along to hurry up and went back to her desk to sit for a few seconds. Taylor hated Christmas. It was, in her opinion, one of the worst holidays in the entire calendar year. It's stupid that people think that everything should just get better because it's snowing outside. It's also stupid that the holiday doesn't actually have any religious basis at the winter solstice time of year (it was moved there to make it easier for pagans to convert to Christianity). And no matter how much the spirit of the season was supposed to be about giving, it always ended up being about fighting, hatred, and suppressed feelings that bubbled up to the surface when people had a little too much eggnog.

The santa took out the first pack of candy-cane-grams. Hmm, two in one, Taylor nearly snorted aloud, Who would waste time sending these dumb things? "Taylor Zimmerman, two for you..."

Taylor froze. She could not move a single muscle in her body. No thoughts entered her mind other than, holy shit what is going on why is this happening to me who the fuck would send these. It took all her energy to concentrate on catching the candy canes when the santa threw them to her.

For a moment, she couldn't do anything but look at them. She vaguely heard Glen Cocco (biggest douchebag in the world) receive a bundle of four (probably a bunch of desperate girls who wanted to get into his sleigh on Christmas Eve), and Cady Heron (new girl from Africa, new plastic, seems pretty bitchy) get one.

When santa left the room, Mrs. Edmonds tried to reconvene, "Alright, back to Caesar, who wants to read aloud the last two lines of this speech and tell me what they mean?"

She couldn't raise her hand or speak or even think. She didn't even turn around to see who was raising their hands (if anybody). All that Taylor could see were the two biggest anomalies I had ever encountered in my life.

"Yes, Glen?" Mrs. Edmonds said, sounding a little surprised.

A second later, "'The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars,/But in ourselves, that we are underlings.'" God, that was almost enough to bring Taylor out of her shock. She had forgotten how sexy his low, powerful voice could be. And with Shakespeare - good lord, she might need a change of underwear.

"Yes, and what do you think that means, Glen?"

"Well," Glen mused; Taylor actually turned around for this one. "I think it means that lots of people tend to blame fate or bad luck when things go wrong, but he's," For a moment, he caught Taylor's eyes. She spun around in her chair, cursing herself for looking, "He's saying that it's not about fate. It's about us. It's about the choices we make and it's about how poorly we think of ourselves. We're the only ones who can create better lives for ourselves."

Mrs. Edmonds looked shocked. After a few seconds, she managed to say, "That's...very good, Glen. Thank you very much for that. Now," she spoke to the entire class, "Let's move on to Act 2!"

Taylor finally had the nerve to open her candy canes by the time Mrs. Edmonds was talking about Caesar's murder. She carefully unwrapped the thin plastic, trying desperately not to crinkle it, even shh-ing it a few times. The first she opened was from Amber D'Alessio thanking her for the incredible job she did on the school paper this semester. Taylor smiled - the paper was her favorite part of the day.

She opened the second one, and froze dramatically for the second time that class period. How could it even be possible? Taylor thought, he doesn't even know my name. Her entire body was rigid, and she made an attempt to furtively turn her head to look at the tall, dark-haired boy in the second row.

Glen Cocco was staring back at her. Glen fucking Cocco was staring in her direction. And were those sex eyes? Holy shit, what is going on? Taylor reread the note, amazed that it was ever real:

"For months I've watched you from behind,

Wondering when I'll get the nerve

Or when I'll get the chance to find

God, I hope I don't sound like a perve.

You enchant me, Taylor Z.

With your eyes, your lips, your big-ass brain

I want to have you, all for me

I want to kiss you in the rain

Let me know what you want to do

My number is 859-0642.

All my love and affection,

Glen Cocco."

He wrote me a fucking sonnet, Taylor thought. Why the hell would anybody take the fucking time to write me a sonnet when they have four slutty candy canes ready and willing? She tried to steal another glance, but found that he was again piercing her with his piercing blue-gay eyes. It nearly stopped Taylor's heart.

The second the bell rang, Taylor shot out of her seat without looking back. She grabbed her books and coat from her locker as quickly as she could and drove home more recklessly than she ever had in her life.

Without even glancing at her dad passed out on the couch or looking at her mom's note on the kitchen table, Taylor ran up to her room and locked the door shut. She read the sonnet over and over again, a million thoughts running through her mind. But the one thought that invaded all the rest was this - How the fuck is this happening to me?