It's really rough I know. Please go easy on it. It's a work in progress. The chapters to come will be better I promise. Lera

Note: words between ' and ' are thoughts.

ALL characters belong to me. If they resemble someone, well they should because they're supposed to. :D

‘One story! I only had this last story to validate and it was rejected, AGAIN! All because of one flippin word!’ Devin slumped back in his chair and groaned inwardly. Blazoned across the screen in front of him was the cursed word, haunting him once again, ‘Rejected’. He had been trying for three months now to get the story validated. He only needed one more to become the top author. Number one, if only for once in his life.

“Mr. Grill, pay attention.” Ms. Croak rasped from the front of the room.

“I am, Ms. Croak.” Devin leaned forward, resting his head in his hand, feigning interest.

“Very well. Tell us, what is the deeper meaning, or as we with literary merit like to call it, the theme of John Keats’ poem ‘To Hope’?”

‘Oh…crud.’ “Um…” Devin scanned the poem next to his laptop quickly, “Uh…hope is…good?” He shrugged.

“No, Mr. Grill. The message is not ‘hope is good’ it is…” Ms Croak droned on.

Devin hung his head in his hands. ‘I should just write another story. It’d be easier. But I worked so hard on this one! So many sleepless nights.’ Devin closed his laptop and laid his head on top of it, staring at the whiteboard. The stare turned into a glare, ‘I haven’t gotten validated because of Leah. Justin’s the top author and she’s making sure it stays like that.’

“Mr. Grill, do you understand now?”

Devin snapped out of his thoughts. ‘No.’ “Yes, Ms. Croak.”

“Then I reiterate, what is the theme?”

“Uh…”

There was a knock at the door. Ms. Croak seemingly floated, like a vampire or something, to the door. Opening it to face the guidance counselor Ms. Listeler; Ms. Croak stepped outside, closing the door behind her.

After a moment of conference, both aged women entered the classroom, followed by another person. A girl with a pixie bob of brown hair, silver hoop earrings with an earthy colored stone in the middle, a grey long sleeve shirt and a green tank covering it, green converses that looked well loved, and a side bag covered with key chains and pins.

Yet the thing that caught Devin’s attention was her eyes. A deep hazel green-brown that looked like she could be your awesome best friend or the enemy that made you wish you were never born. ‘Kinda a girl next door assassin thing going on there.’

“This, class, is Brigit Riley. She’s your new classmate. Welcome her warmly.” Ms. Listeler announced. Then she turned and left.

“Ms. Riley, are you familiar with the work of Keats?” Ms. Croak turned on her.

“Please, its Gwyn ma’am. No, I’m more familiar with Donne and Yeats than Keats.”

“Then this should be a valuable learning experience for you.” Ms. Croak peered over the class. “You may have the seat in front of Mr. Grill.” Ms. Croak waved her hand over the heads of the students and turned to the board.

Gwyn tilted her head in confusion. “Who?”

“Mr. Grill, there in back.” Ms. Croak gestured over her shoulder, not bothering to turn around.

Devin raised his hand, shaking his head, “Over here.”

Ms. Croak spun around so fast you’d think something had stung her. “Mr. Grill, did I say you could speak?” she growled.

“No, I did.” Gwyn said, with forced politeness.

“Excuse me?” Ms. Croak whirled on Gwyn.

Then the bell rang. During the clamor to gather books and get out the door, Gwyn slipped away. Devin shoved his laptop in his bag and weaved through the crowd at the door. In the hallway he tried to locate Gwyn, but she had disappeared into the crowd.

“Evening.” Coach Green said, before taking a swig of coffee as Devin walked in the door.

“Coach,” Devin replied. He stopped and stared when he saw Gwyn already in the room; calmly reading a book as if she had always belonged there.

Devin walked over and took the seat behind her. “Hey, thanks back there.”

Gwyn looked over her shoulder, “No problem,” she said smiling brightly.

“YOU!”

Gwyn turned back around to face the high nasally voice. “Me,” she stated.

“What are you doing in my seat?” the tall platinum blond snapped.

“Sitting,” Gwyn replied, grinning.

“That is my seat, everyone knows that.”

“Oh really, well you name wasn’t on it, so you can’t claim it.” Gwyn relaxed back in her seat.

“Well you name isn’t on it either.” The blond smirked at her assumed cleverness.

“Oh.” Gwyn leaned forward, to reveal her name written across the back of the seat in bold black sharpie. “Bye-bye now.” Gwyn waved.

The blond huffed and stomped her foot. Spinning around she stormed away.

Gwyn whirled around to Devin, “Who is she and why do I hate her?”

Devin was surprised at the anger flickering in Gwyn’s eyes. “Uh…um…that’s Leah. She’s probably got the worst attitude here at school. Well, only to those she doesn’t like.”

“Hmm…” Gwyn hummed, mischief taking the place of anger. “This is going to be fun.” She said turning around in her seat as the bell rang and Coach Green walked in.

Devin felt himself being shaken. He opened one eye groggily and stared accusingly at the person.

“Class change.”

Devin gathered his books and walked out. “Coach.”

“Good job.” Coach Green replied, not eve bothering to look at who it was.

Devin tried to locate Gwyn, but she was gone once again.

“Yo, Devil.”

Devin turned, “Einstein.”

“You seen that new girl?” The tall jock asked.

“Hn…yeah.” Devin kept walking. “Gwyn, she’s cool.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She stood up to Ms. Croak and Leah within 10 minutes of each other.”

“Whoa, that’s some pilla.”

“Yeah, Brett! You got practice?” Devin inquired.

“Yep.”

“Ah. Tomorrow?”

“Nope,” Einstein grinned.

“Your house?”

“Yeah, Brett!” Einstein replied breaking off and walking into CP English IV.

Devin walked a little further and entered Journalism. He took his usual place in the back corner and pulled out his laptop. He flipped it open and logged into writers

“What’s that?”

Devin jumped a little at the sudden appearance of Gwyn. He turned to face her, “Huh? What’s what?”

“The web site?”

“Oh…” Devin turned around again as Gwyn pulled up a chair, “It’s called writer’s block. It’s popular around school here, well…only because popular people are into it right now. Kinda like myspace for a while there. An old friend of mine created it, Ariel Farrell, but she moved last year. She was awesome. Anyway, she got a lot of people interested and it took off. Now if you get top author, you’re popular. Kinda like jocks at other schools. If you play a sport and you get top author, you’re a god. I’ve gotten really close but my last story keeps getting rejected.”

“Why?” Gwyn leaned forward looking at the laptop, clicking on different links on the site.

“Leah and her cronies are the validators and Leah’s current boyfriend Justin is the top author. If I hadn’t dumped Leah and quit soccer I’d probably be the top author right now.” Devin leaned back in his chair glaring at the laptop.

“Why don’t you become a validator?” Gwyn looked at him.

“The polls have been mysteriously closed for four months due to ‘maintenance’. You have to be voted in by the community on the poll.” Devin looked at Gwyn, there was a slightly troubled look in her eyes. “Why are you so concerned?”

“Hmm? Oh. I don’t know. It just caught my attention.”

“Ah.” Devin nodded.

“Devin,” Devin turned to Mrs. Foulfire, “It seems I haven’t gotten your paper yet.”

“I turned mine in Monday, ma’am, Anna’s the one who hasn’t turned her paper in. Do you need me to print it out again?”

“Well I can’t find it so please do.” Mrs. Foulfire said while shuffling the large stacks of papers around on her desk.

Devin sighed and walked over to a school computer. Taking a flash drive out of his pocket, he shoved it in the little slot and pulled up the article. Clicking the print button, he exited out and took the flash drive out of the computer. He snatched the paper form the printer as it spit it out, and handed the paper to Mrs. Foulfire.

“I need you to go down to the art room and take pictures for the yearbook.” Mrs. Foulfire said as she took the papers.

‘What?!’ “Fine.” Devin turned and went to the closet to get a camera. ‘Here I am doing the work for those lazy idiots in yearbook. I’ve got my own stuff to work on.’ Devin stormed out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind him.

Reviews please. More support means I'm more inspired to write for the readers because I know I've got someone to write for. Thanks. Lera