Hey, it's silver. I'm sorry to say this, but the next chapter may take me a while. I wrote it through this entire week. I saved it, then my computer crash and the chapter was deleted. My internet has been out all day, it's been going on and off. The chapter had around 3000 words and took me a while to write and now i have to try to remember it. to make up for this, i'll put up a short little story now.

-Silvershout-

Teacher- " Okay class, it's time to read your poems you wrote and the first is.." She reached into a hat and pulled out a peice of paper" Brent is first."

The little boy walked to the front of the classroom.

"My country, tis of thee,
wasteland of misery,
of thee I sing.
Land where my father died
land of formaldehyde,
beaten on the roadside,
let freedom scream.
My own bat country, thee,
lacking security,
thy name I love;
I love thy power drills,
dark woods and Templar hills.
My heart with rapture thrills,
send them above.
Let gasses quell the breeze,
and ring from all the trees
sweet freedom's song;
let mortal tongues awake'
let all that breathe partake.
Let rocks with silence break
that sound prolonged.
Our fathers, gone to thee,
Author of liberty, for this we sing.
Long may our land be bright
with kerosene alight.
Nothing will be alright.
For this we sing."

Teacher" Brent, go sit down." She reached into the hat again." Kirli, your next."

She walked to the front of the classroom.

"I read alot of poems
Some happy
Some sad
Some funny
Some true
But sometimes at the end
They start to make no sense
Moo"

Teacher " Okay. George, your up."

George walked up to the front of the classroom.

"Roses are red
Violets are blue
Sugar is sweet
And so are you!

But the roses have wilted
And the violets are dead
The sugar bowl is empty
And so is your head!"

Teacher" Alrighty then. Britt."

She pranced up to the front of the classroom.

"Alot of people are jealous of me
They seem to act rash
I think their jealous of my amazing and beautiful as-"

She was cut of by the teacher " Brittany!"

Britt" What i was going to say assortment of fruits and vegetables."

teacher" Oh. Well, uhh, okay. Mitch, your turn."

he walked up to the front of the class.

"Poems are stupid, dumb, and strange.
If you can write them, you're deranged.
They're full of thoughts, obscure and deep.
They make me want to go to sleep.

They're written in meter and time,
Some are even written to rhyme.
Poems are stupid, dumb, and strange.
Assignments to write them should be changed."

Teacher " Good. Kat, your last. I ran out of things to say."

Kat walked up to the class.

"It isn't my problem,
so stare all you like.
If you feel embarrassed
that's your issue.
I am a girl, this is the way we are.
Any other girl would say the same.
If you only knew what a hassle it is
finding a shirt that fits right,
not too snug, not too low-cut.
You wouldn't stare,
wouldn't gesture,
wouldn't grin in that stupid way
you always do.
Silly boys,
You can never understand
what it's like.
Stop gendering,
avert your eyes,
and grow up.
Surprise, surprise. I have "bewbs." "

Hope that makes up. Bye the way I forget to mention that Kat is a rather well developed girl. It didnt seem important.

!EDIT:May 29 2013: I'm back and this story, unfortunately, has no interest to me any longer. I know how much you'll miss the amazing writing of a pre-pubescent 13/14 year old girl(not). Her sophomore self is keeping up this story, however, because the terrible writing and non-clear story line make her giggle as she !