The English classroom of Mrs. Ryan filled with (badly attempted) stifled snorts and giggles that emitted from the other twenty-two sixteen and seventeen-year-olds that all shared the same scarlet shade in their faces. They all peered through the rectangular window that resided between the wall and the maroon door as if it was a cinema screen. There wasn't a single student in the classroom that didn't make comments or hold the middle finger up to the sweating, ridiculed Samuel Williams.

He stood with his back against the wall, looking out of the window that let him see outside to the school gardens where the rain made puddles all over the grass, concrete and in any other steep crevice all over the garden. Sam did anything that meant he wouldn't have to look at the piercing grey eyes of a fuming Mrs. Ryan.

Sam ran his forearm across his head to wipe the rainwater that soaked through his messy, ebony hair. He kept his head down, looking at his black boots that were poorly tied up until she finally told him to look at her while she was talking. He did so, not wanting to anger her any more than he already had.

"Well then Samuel, are you going to tell me why you were late?" Mrs. Ryan asked. Sam didn't answer and instead looked through the rectangular pane of glass that allowed him to look inside the English classroom and see Jack Milton and his goons hold the middle finger up to him as they chortled away.

"I asked you a question!" Mrs. Ryan said impatiently. Sam flinched as she raised her voice but still had no wish to answer her.

"Fine. Be like that. Inside with you!" She commanded. Sam obeyed, not wishing to bicker with her any further. All laughing of the classmates turned into stifled snorts and there wasn't one without their heads on their desks to hide the crimson shades in their faces.

Sam hurried to the back corner of the classroom and propped the window open. He unzipped his grey jacket and placed it across the windowsill so it would hopefully be dry by the end of the lesson.

"Are you going to tell me why you were late then Samuel?" Mrs. Ryan asked as she straightened herself in her seat and looked for a pen.

"I've just told you why!" He argued, the frustration clear in his voice.

"No, I don't believe you did. Unless you count shrugging your shoulders as an excuse."

"I had to help Charles with the baby." He finally said, not too proudly.

"Ah yes, how is little Anna now?" She asked as she scribbled across the register with her red pen.

"Hannah's fine." He grumbled in response. Mrs. Ryan gave her usual monotone 'hmm' as she finished writing a note next to Sam's name on the register about why he was late for school.

He sat down, breathing heavily as the whole morning flashed through his mind again. Hannah's incessant cries and screams still played in his head, as did his stepfather's scolding.

He leaned back in his seat as he attempted to catch his breath when he suddenly heard the shuffling of sheets of paper. He smiled faintly to himself as he knew what today's lesson was going to be.

Mrs. Ryan went to each desk, handing out two sheets of lined paper to every groaning student. They all looked at each other, eyes rolling with exasperation. (All but Sam, of course). He did his best to hide his excitement when Mrs. Ryan placed two sheets of paper in front of him. He had already reached for his pencil and started scribbling frantically. He was so lost in the pride of his short story that he didn't even hear the derogatory names Jack Milton whispered over to him.

Sam set the pencil down on his desk and flexed his fingers to ease the small cramp forming in his hand. While doing so, he quickly read through what was written on the sheet of paper before him.

She was mysterious, with eyes of the lightest shade of blue known to man. Her wild, light blonde hair resembled the proud untamed mane of a lion. Her ivory skin glistened and practically lit up the entire dark chasm. They both stood face to face. Samson's instincts seized control over his entire body and made him back into what felt like a wall. It was hard to tell what with the only light being the glow emitting from this Enchantress' face. Samson's trembling hands were still formed as a cross in front of his face.

He lowered them as his green eyes widened in realization about who this woman could be.

"You're really her, aren't you? You're

As Sam tried to think of a good name for his Enchantress, the piece of paper was immediately snatched away from him and then resided in the sweaty palms of Jack Milton who smiled deviously to himself.

"Give it back!" He mouthed with rage so he wouldn't alarm Mrs. Ryan. Needless to say, he was in no mood to be reprimanded by her for the second time today.

Jack Milton, being the cocky, obnoxious, immature boy that he was, cupped his hand to his ear and mouthed the words "I can't hear you". Sam sighed to himself and took the other sheet of paper and straighter it in front of him. Before he could resume writing, however, he looked to his left and out to the window where he saw nothing but the school gardens and the main crossroads behind the gates. He noticed something that looked like a pale smudge in the distance. He decided that it was simply a patch of fog and nothing more. A second glance, however, made him realize that it was more than that. He saw half of it move and then it seemed as if it was coming closer to him. Sam looked around and noticed that everyone was either scribbling on their pieces of paper or asleep with their pencils in their hands in hope to fool Mrs. Ryan who had her nose stuck in all exercise books of younger English students.

He leaned to his side and pushed the window open even further and held his hand out slightly. This made the creature come even closer. He soon realized it was a barn owl with very unusual and distinctive marks across the chest. Not to mention the small black flicks at the end of each dark eye and the luminous silver streaks across its head. Something about the owl just made him see that it was indeed a girl.

He heard a shuffle from the front of the room and noticed Mrs. Ryan kept fidgeting in her chair while she was marking the exercise books. Samuel looked out the window again to find that the owl was gone. He studied the whole of the school gardens and couldn't find her. He decided to sit up straight in his seat before Mrs. Ryan looked up. He'd had enough scolding for today.

As he sat back at his desk, he flipped the extra piece of paper over and took out a blunt piece of graphite from the pocket on his jeans. He began to sketch a light outline of the barn owl from before. His sighting of her was only brief so he constantly closed his eyes and tried to remember the unique characteristics of her. The ruffled ivory feathers that made up her face; her dark brown eyes with the minute black flicks extending from each outer side; the tiny distinctive oval-shaped marks across her chest with a mixture of black and silver marks.

He became lost in the drawing and the sounds of pencil scratching that he didn't dare stop until a furious Mrs. Ryan snatched the piece of paper away from him. She looked at the picture for a moment and then held it up in front of him.

"So this is all my lesson is to you? First, you show up late and then have the audacity to dismiss your opportunity to redeem yourself by scribbling all this god awful nonsense?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the whole class once again struggling to hold in their laughter which caused them to turn redder than their burgundy seats.

"Go stand outside." She spat. Sam huffed and gathered his piece of graphite and backpack. He slammed the door behind him as he left the classroom. The same wave of poorly attempted stifled laughter resounded, even through the closed door. It didn't die down until Mrs. Ryan turned around to yell 'silence', demanding them to be quiet.

Samuel threw himself against the wall and sank to the ground as he let out a frustrated grunt. He looked out the windows to his side that were the height of the floor to the ceiling. The sight outside was just as dull as ever. He overlooked the car park and beyond the trees where it looked as if the same owl from before was coming to him again. It perched on the outside windowsill. Owls usually kept their heads moving around in whichever directions but this one, in particular, had her eyes focused on Sam. She started making the most unusual call. It didn't even sound like a bird call. Almost like.. words. Like she was actually speaking to him. She was beginning to sound clearer to him. As if the window wasn't there anymore.

"Soon.." she chirped. Sam turned his head away, thinking he was suddenly delusional. It didn't stop her calling to him, however. At least not until the classroom door opened again. The owl flew away within the blink of an eye. Sam stood upright hoping to not be scolded for his posture. Mrs. Ryan sighed before speaking.

"What do you have to say for yourself this time Samuel?" She asked.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Ryan," Sam muttered. Mrs. Ryan took out the piece of paper from before and handed it back to him.

"I must say, as disrespectful as you were, that is quite an exquisite drawing. Reminds me of Mr. King."

"Who's he?" Samuel asked as he held the piece of paper under his arm.

"He used to be the old Performing Arts teacher. He was quite intent on being an actor himself. It was his everyday passion really."

"And did he?"

"Unfortunately not. Looks like we can't always get what we wish for. He settled down, however. Lovely wife, she was. She passed away nearly nine years ago now. He went to live in a retirement home. He said his house didn't feel like home anymore without his Maggie. They didn't have any children either so as you can imagine, he probably gets quite lonely up there."

"I'm sorry," Sam said.

"Don't be. He was a bit of a loony. All he could talk about was that bloody owl. He said it wasn't even an owl, and that it was some sort of witch or enchantress. He wrote a play about the whole thing. They're actually thinking of bringing it back out since it has been twenty years since he retired. If you're interested, you can always go and speak to one of the girls or even Mark if he's in."

"OK. I'll do that." Sam grinned slightly.

"Wipe that grin off your face, now. Try and look a bit, you know, like you've just been shouted at again. I understand that you have to look after your sister most nights, so I'll let this slide. But just this once." Sam nodded, indicating he understood. His grin disappeared and turned into a frustrated frown. He lowered his head before walking back into the classroom.

Later that day, the school bell rang that finally meant it was time to go home. There probably wasn't a student who didn't hurry down the corridors to get outside. Well, all but Sam.

He lingered in the corridors for a while, making sure to check out every window in sight, looking for the owl again. She wasn't there, however. Sam decided he was just imagining it.

He walked downstairs and stopped by at the Drama Studio and saw Mandy writing in her floral notebook. She welcomed him in with a warm smile.

"Sam! How are ya, man?" She asked with joy.

"I'm good, I'm good. Mrs. Ryan told me about the play and I was thinking if I could maybe... audition?" He asked as he stepped further into the room.

"Sure! Here." She pushed her seat away from the desk and reached up for a box of scripts marked LABYRINTH. She handed him a script, smiling as she did so. She noticed his interest. She took a script for herself and had a quick look.

"I read Jaryn's, you read Samson's?" She asked. Sam smiled and threw his backpack down in an attempt to get into character with "Samson".