Seeing Through Tears
What's a Sonnet?
English has always been my greatest academic subject. I never quite understood exactly why I could comprehend it, while others struggled to pass. I certainly wasn't nurtured intellectually at home. There was no reason for it.
Maybe I interpreted things well or had good instincts when it came to a book.
Regardless of what the answer was, no administrator ever recognized I had a knack for English. I'm not one for showing strengths. I kind of regret that now, as I sat quietly in a far corner of the classroom. My teacher, like she did every other day, tried to help the class understand one utterly simple concept.
"A sonnet," Miss Halt repeated firmly. She threw her arms in the air, her fists clenched and her face tinted fuchsia. "Come on people, we just went over this a week ago! How could you forget this in one week?"
The class stared at her with blank expressions on their faces.
She began to hyperventilate.
My classmates were hopelessly clueless. They never attempted to even answer a question. Miss Halt, a part time teacher and very new to the field, figured the entire school was impossible with English thanks to my class. Although, this was modified English. I had the unfortunate fate of ending up in this class, consequently, because I missed too many classes my previous year. But I was not skipping to hang out with my friends or anything other rebellious activity. My reasons were far more complicated that that.
"Does anyone, anyone at all remember a single thing about a SONNET?"
I contemplated raising my hand to answer her. I knew what a sonnet was. However, I gave up participating in class long ago. She never noticed when I raised my hand or tried to speak, so why bother?
"Please people! This is grade twelve English. You-"
Miss Halt cut her sentence short as the classroom door slammed open against the pale green wall. Startled students jumped in their seats. Seth McLain, a notorious bad boy stood at the door, an annoyed expression on his face. I suppose the principle actually forced him to attend class today.
"Seth," Miss Halt greeted him stiffly. She slipped her hands down her white sweater, straightening it out in attempt to regain her composure without anyone noticing. "How nice of you to grace us with your presence."
Seth glanced at Miss Halt with the look of a predator ready to attack. She took a step back, her nose twitching; something she always did when she was nervous. It was rather unnerving to watch, but at the same time, quite amusing that a student could have that affect on her.
Seth had a very intimidating appearance to someone as delicate as Miss Halt. His unruly hair reached just above his shoulders, cut uneven as a subtle wave haunted shiny, black tresses. His trademark black trench coat swayed with his prominent steps as his bondage pants jingled eerily with every move, vibrating his dark, cold image. The Demon Hunter band T-shirt he wore had few rips in it. His strong jaw and high cheekbones made his appearance extremely appealing along with his tall lean figure. Unfortunately, I've never been close enough too see the color of his eyes; I only knew they were a dark colour.
Personally, I liked his look. You know: whatever floats your boat. But Miss Halt gave me the impression that she thought he was capable of murder.
When Miss Halt was finally able to break free from his gaze she quietly asked Seth to take his seat. He glided over and placed himself into his usual seat only three desks in front of me. He stretched out his long legs and set them on top of a chair in front of him, moving as smooth a panther. He then tapped his combat boots against a metal bar connected to the desk and hummed a familiar tune. It sounded like a song from ACDC. Keeping his eyes on the window beside him he tried to ignore Miss Halt as she attempted having a conversation with him.
"Mr McLain!" Miss Halt addressed him with in a louder tone, becoming rather daring towards the supposedly dangerous youth.
Seth snapped his head from the window, towards Miss Halt and raised a pierced eyebrow.
"As I was saying," she continued, looking rather satisfied that she had gained his attention. "Before you came in, I was just talking to the class about sonnets. Would you care to explain what that is?"
Seth shrugged. Halt sighed.
I was beginning to feel sorry for her. What kind of teacher has a grade 12 class where no one knew what a sonnet was? I was really starting to consider raising my hand. I wondered if someone would actually notice the girl in the corner this time.
"Are you sure you don't know?" Miss Halt pressed.
"Doesn't it have something to do with Shakespeare… or something?" he asked with his deep voice. I noticed a smirk tugging on his lips. What a tease! He did too know what it was. He was purposely driving her insane.
Miss Halt groaned and ran a hand through her hair, pulling slightly at the strands. It was obvious that she was about to explode, so I decided that I would in fact raise my hand.
"Do you know anything else about it?"
He was really fighting with that devious smirk. "Nope."
She turned back to the rest of the class. "Does that help anyone? It has to do with Shakespeare!" She paused before hesitantly adding, "… well sometimes."
Guessing that she hadn't realized my hand was held up I raised it higher and waved it around.
"Anyone at all?"
An extremely disappointed frown crossed her face. "I guess I'll just tell you then. Okay, take out a pen and pa-"
"Miss Halt?" Seth's booming voice interrupted.
She whipped around and gazed at him, anticipation glowing in her eyes. "Yes? Do you know?"
He shook his head.
Halt looked crestfallen. "Then… what?"
Rolling his eyes at her dramatic response, he drawled out, "I was just going to say that I think Anna knows."
I blinked and looked at him in surprise. How did he know? I didn't see him look my way once.
Miss Halt's eyebrows furrowed as she tried to familiarize herself with my name. "Anna?"
She obviously forgot she had an Anna in her class. I would really be upset about that if it didn't happen as often as it did. She's not really to blame; I did blend well with this corner. I looked average. Some people even implied I was cute, but they're my closest friends, so they don't count. My wardrobe pretty much consisted of a decent amount of the same type of clothing, which was blue and black jeans, sweatshirts, mostly plain cut T-shirts in various colors. I had light brown hair that went a bit past my shoulders, and my eyes had a strange mixture of gray and green that constantly contrasted and competed with each other.
Although I wasn't shocked with Halt's response, I was surprised to find a slightly disgruntled demeanor marking Seth.
Miss Halt repeated my name once more with even more confusion etched on her face.
"Yes, Anna," Seth replied with, his tense voice entertaining the idea that he was becoming annoyed. "She still has her hand up if you don't remember who she is."
At his comment, everyone began glancing around the class, because of course they'd all forgotten who Anna was. After a moment, all eyes settled on me. Great, just what I need: an audience. Why don't they just put me on stage and let me dance around in short shorts? I lowered my hand slowly, taking in every pair of eyes, a nervous blush creeping across my cheeks.
Miss Halt tilted her head to the side, looking directly at me. "Anna?"
"Yeah?" I asked quietly. I really didn't want to be here right now. I had the strong temptation to stutter out 'bathroom' and run off. I may look like a fool, but at least I wouldn't have to watch their reactions. I'd be out of here by then.
"Can you tell us what a sonnet is?"
I don't know… could I tell her what a sonnet is? I did know the answer. A fourteen-line poem usually written in iambic pentameter… but to tell her when she forgot I even existed?
"It's… um…." I paused and tapped my finger on my bottom lip. My classmates were at the edge of their seats waiting for an answer, except Seth, who was leaning back in his seat, smirking. "Well I'm pretty sure it has something to do with writing in the old fashioned way… you know, that no one ever understands?" Miss Halt was turning paler by the second, and I fought to keep my lips from curving up. "Yeah, what's up with the way they talk anyway? Its so boring and the plays they're in never made sense." It practically destroyed me to say that about Shakespeare, but I covered it well by shrugging and flipping my hair. (Remind me to kill myself later for acting like such a fruit-loop) "I really don't get it." I finished, blinking rapidly for maximum effect.
Miss Halt stared at me for a moment before scanning the classroom with her mouth and eyes wide open in horror. "You people," she screamed, "are absolutely hopeless!" She stormed out of the room muttering, "I can't take this," as she left.
Hmm, she never did explain what a sonnet is, I thought, finding myself slightly amused.
The class remained in silence as everyone gaped after Miss Halt's dramatic exit. Well… all except Seth, again, who was smirking mischievously.
I'm revising this story, so some things may not make sense as they don't connect exactly with the old version, but it will all make sense when I'm done. For instance, I changed Miss Halt and Seth's last name. It used to be McLane, now it's McLain. I'm very excited about this reconstruction. STT Deserves a polish. I'll post the latest chapter after I'm finished.