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Post by LUCY ESTELLA WIGGINS on Oct 10, 2011 19:27:11 GMT -5
Rhythmically Lucy tapped her pencil impatiently as she sat in Mr. Blackwells' classroom. This had to be the stupidest class she'd ever taken in her life. There was no point to a creative writing class. How was she going to use it in the future, if somehow she became a spy and needed a quick alibi? No, that was what improv class, and acting classes were for. She shouldn't have to take it. If her schedule wasn't so screwed up she wouldn't have to either.
Staring at her teacher defiantly she stopped tapping her pencil, and slouched back in her seat. She didn't know why she hated Jason so much, there was just something about him.... Like he was the reason she wasn't getting into the college of her dreams or something. Except that wasn't it at all. Lucy didn't really believe in college, but sense society did, therefore she was forced to go. Sometimes she wondered how bad it would really be if she didn't go to college. She would probably have to be some sort of grocery bagger, or cashier, if worst came to worst, a drug dealer.
Lucy shivered at the thought of being a dealer. She always thought that once you sold drugs, you were on drug, then you were addicted to drugs, then you'd do anything for drugs. Images of sweaty girls with trashy smeared make up running down their cheeks, flashed before her eyes.
A tap on her shoulder detached her from her day dreams. A note, naturally. Lucy rolled her eyes and passed the note to the desired recipient. People could be so rude. She glanced at the floor and slouched back in her seat. With the cross of her arms, she sighed, as she waited for this torture to soon be over.
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Post by JASON BLACKWELL on Oct 13, 2011 21:42:21 GMT -5
It was fourth period, the longest period of the day and also Jason's third creative writing class of the day. Honestly, the young man didn't mind a bit. He enjoyed seeing the creative side of his students because he knew that it was more fun to write what they wanted instead of essays and analyses. And as laid back as he tried to make the class, there seemed to be one student who simply couldn't stand it. Sitting in the third row, four seats back, was Lucy Wiggins, a pretty girl with a look that could kill. Jason wasn't so oblivious that he couldn't tell she wasn't enjoying herself.
The girl was slumped in her chair with a look of distaste on her face, passing a note forward lazily as she was asked. Jason was sitting comfortably on the edge of his desk. That was the thing about creative writing. Generally, the students had a lot of freedom and so did he, as their teacher. But still, he couldn't seem to understand why it bothered Lucy so much to be in a class so free.
After finishing his discussion about the group writing assignment they were to do, given a topic a group of four would come together and one person would begin the story, stop after five minutes, and then another group member would proceed to pick up where the other had left off, and so on until the last person in the group was to finish the story.
After dismissing the class to work on his assignment, something he wanted to be fun for them, he asked Lucy to stay behind. Walking over to her, he calmly blinked his blue eyes and looked at her sincerely. "Is everything okay? You seem very...angry?" his last word unintentionally sounded more like a question when he finished the sentence.
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Post by LUCY ESTELLA WIGGINS on Oct 14, 2011 21:31:26 GMT -5
While Mr. Blackwell lectured about nothing, Lucy allowed her gaze to wander out the far window. The thought of what she was going to wear tomorrow came to mind. A pointless though, considering the time and place, but if something should happen along the lines of her dying at that exact moment, it wouldn't be too horrible to dying as she planned out the day ahead of her.
The unprofessional teacher before her dismissed everyone except for her. Was this the part in the movie, where the teacher asked the student their life story? Poor Jason was going to be disappointed, unless of course he'd rather her used 'creative writing' to construct a perfect lie to spice up her life. How could it begin. The 20's had always been her favorite era. She was a sucker for a business man with slicked back hair and suspenders. With fearful whisper, Lucy could confess to being a time traveler, or even a vampire, for that matter.
As the words came from her professor's mouth, Lucy found herself both amused and annoyed, at the same time. Of course, her expression only showed the irritated side.
"I s'pose that would depend on your definition of okay. Or angry... even." Lucy replied, almost mockingly.
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Post by JASON BLACKWELL on Oct 17, 2011 20:18:48 GMT -5
Ah, so she was a smart one. Smart mouthed at least. Jason knew the type but he wasn't used to it. At least, not anymore. Jason was used to his students pushing him but in a different way. They accepted him and allowed him to be the way he was, allowed him to care. Lucy seemed like she was spunky enough to not want any part of that. Not only that but she seemed to have a genuine dislike for Jason, or maybe it was just his class?
Jason shook his thoughts and smirked. "Well, let's see. Since beginning this class you've done as little as possible to achieve success in it, you give me dirty looks across the classroom and are very short with me and your classmates when asked a direct questions." He crossed his arms, feeling a bit confident and more like an actual teacher than he had in weeks, so he took it up a notch and sat on the desk in front of her.
"So is it a personal vendetta against me or am I just being conceited?" he asked, trying to lighten things. In his experience, confrontation with students never went too well.
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Post by LUCY ESTELLA WIGGINS on Oct 17, 2011 21:00:38 GMT -5
"Well, let's see. The questions I am generally being asked and the people that are asking them are on the same wavelength. Incompetent." Lucy finished. Why didn't anyone else agree with her that this class was completely pointless. It did nothing to help them prepare for college, or the 'real world', or anything. The only thing that it might do, and this was metaphorically getting a jacked up point across, and counseling could do that in a snap. Where as a novel took time to write.
Lucy truly felt creative writing should be a club, not a class. She resented the fact that she was put in this class, because there was nowhere else to put her. The only thing this class would ever do for her, was give her a good hour to complete other homework, zone out, or if she ever needed a sneaky alibi, perhaps this class would help her come up with some rather convincing.
"Mr. Blackwell..." Lucy let out a short chortle. She gathered her pink binder, bag, and pencils from underneath her desk. " Am I the antagonist of your life story now? Don't make me laugh. Oh dear. I will pray for you. Consider yourself added to my prayer list." This shouldn't be considered mockery, at least that's what the smart half of her thought. Getting around the rules, one prayer at a time. By saying she would pray for him was a very kind thing to say, and that is exactly what she would tell any person that asked. Lucy sighed as a smile parted her lips.
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