Professor Abram slowly ambled between the rows of desks in the classroom. “Why do we write? For fun? To share with others?” She trailed her index finger along the row of desks that Bex was sitting in. Bex wanted to answer the teacher’s question but she was too shy. And the room was oddly quiet. It seemed like one of those situations where the teacher answers their own question when no one else steps up. Then a girl in the back of the room finally decided to speak. “I write to express myself.” She raised her head up and looked around the room. “To write hard and clear about what hurts as Ernest Hemingway once said.” The room fell utterly silent again. “That’s my favorite quote.” And at that moment, Bex didn’t know what to think. That’s my favorite quote, too. She thought. The girl looked at Bex and smiled as if she knew that Bex lived by that quote. …show more content…
Her long, frizzy, red hair was spilling over the back of her chair. She brushed her bangs out of her face and put her head down on her desk. Relatable, Bex thought, giggling in her mind. The girl looked like Andy from The Goonies. With her red hair, hazel eyes and dark eyebrows. She even dressed like her, but more up to date: A yellow cardigan with a plain white shirt and a long white skirt. “Good. Anyone else?” Professor Abram asked, her short black pixie cut fluttering in the wind that was coming through the open window. It’s early December. Why would you open a window? Bex thought as she shivered. When Bex focused her attention back on the lesson, she saw that “WRITING FICTION” was written in all capital letters on the whiteboard. The professor continued her scribbles on the