Here's Chapter 2! Things will start to get more interesting in this chapter, I hope you like it!
~Basketcase
Rich girl, gay, drug addict...Clarissa ticked off as more students introduced themselves. Come on, come on, let's do some poetry! Clarissa pleaded internally. This is taking way too long!
The only other person who caught her attention was Hollins. Jake Hollins. He was the boy who made fun of her last name. She'd have to keep her eye on him. He wasn't enrolled in any programs in particular, but was taking other classes like Poker 101 and Drugs 101. Lovely.
Clarissa waited rather impatiently for her turn to introduce herself. Finally, the professor called her surname. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by the professor.
"Although...as Mr Hollins said, you don't really need any introduction..."
Clarissa blushed and addressed the class.
"Hi, I'm Clarissa O'Gonnor. I'm majoring in English. I really like any form of creative writing, whether it's writing stories, songs, or as you can suspect, poetry. I like chocolate, taking care of plants (I have two in my apartment: Martha and Mildred). I like karaoke, Chinese food, Tinkerbell, and Dance Dance Revolution. Peace!"
The class was silent. Then...
"O'Gonnor," Jake muttered and the class burst out laughing.
Clarissa slumped in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. Honestly, what is so funny about my name?
After all the introductions, they finally had time for a poem.
"Let's take it easy for our first class. I would like for you all to write a poem; it can be about anything you'd like. We will take them up before the end of class, oxin."
What to write, what to write...Clarissa thought. She tapped her pen on the table and chewed her gum. Hungry. Food. She'd skipped breakfast and now cried inwardly.
Al turned to face Clarissa. "Does a poem have to rhyme?"
"No, not necessarily. A poem can be written however you want. Sometimes a poem sounds more appealing when it rhymes, though."
Al beamed. "'Kay, thanks!" He began scribbling away in his binder.
"Oh, hey, you're left-handed too?" Clarissa asked.
Al looked up from his papers. "Yeah, I am. You, too? That's funny. Hey, why do you have so many watches on your arm?"
Clarissa sighed. "People kept giving me watches as a present. Christmas, Easter, you name it. I wear so many so people won't give me anymore watches."
"Ah..." he replied and Clarissa could tell he was trying to stifle a laugh.
Clarissa began writing.
Cake...strawberries...icing...cookies...
Clarissa began licking her lips as she thought of all the delicious foods she could be eating.
"Alright, would anyone like to share their poem?" the professor asked.
Clarissa was still scribbling away frantically in her notebook, trying to come up with the perfect poem.
"I-I will," Al said. He cleared his throat and stood.
"I wish I could be like a rocket
flying through the air.
Not a care in the world
has this rocket
as it soars across the sky.
I wish I could fly through the air,
carried by your love."
Al sat back down in his seat, his cheeks pink.
The professor clapped his hands, and immediately the rest of the class joined in. Clarissa clapped as well and smiled at the boy.
"Not bad, not bad, Mr Elric, given the short time you had to come up with your poem. Would anyone else like to share, oxin?"
"Finished!" Clarissa muttered under her breath and stood up in her excitement.
"Ah, Miss O'Gonnor, you would like to present your poem?" the professor asked, his mouth twitching as if he was trying to contain a smirk.
"Eh? Uh, sure..."
Clarissa took a deep breath and slowly read her poem to her peers. Her eyes fixed on her paper, she gave a melodious tone to her poem about decadent desserts. When she finished reading it, she sighed, content. The entire room was silent, and Clarissa looked up from her paper.
Everyone was staring at her, including Al and the professor. Al looked utterly blown away.
Professor Peterson removed his glasses with a shaky hand.
"Miss O'Gonnor...that was absolutely amazing..."
"Eh? Really?" she blinked.
"Yes! I'd say it's on the same level as Shakespeare...the way you described the taste of those foods...unbelievable." The professor put his glasses back on and took a deep breath. "Class...dismissed."
Clarissa sighed and closed her notebook. She couldn't believe her poem was so good.
"Clarissa, that was...just amazing!" Al said, smiling. "My poem was nothing compared to yours."
"Really?" was all Clarissa could say. Her stomach had begun growling like a monster and she hoped no one could hear. It was close to lunch...
"Say..." Al said and his cheeks were rosy. "Would you like to hang out some time? You could teach me to write better poems..."
"Uhm," she said, becoming socially awkward. "No. Not right now at least." She rose from her chair quickly. Food.
"Ah, I didn't mean right now," Al said hastily, his face reddening.
Clarissa meant to say something but it came out unintelligible. She swooned and felt herself against the cold floor. The last thing she was aware of was Jake's voice.
"O'Gonnor's a goner!"