"Ms. Blakely," Mr. Lanson says in surprise when I walk into class...late.

I force a smile as I hand him my late slip. He doesn't complain even though I've missed half his class and interrupted by showing up tardy. Usually, I'll miss the entire class just to avoid being scolded.

Once he returns to reading aloud from the textbook on his desk, I head toward mine.

"Good morning, Emily Dickinson," Audrey whispers to me from one desk over.

"What?" I say back in confusion.

She looks toward the front of the room so the teacher doesn't get suspicious but smiles slyly when she pulls something out of her bag and slides it over to me.

"Page 3," Audrey smirks.

"The Addington Print?" I furrow my eyebrows at her. No one actually reads the school newspaper. She doesn't respond so I flip through the pages for an explanation. "Oh, my god...no," I shake my head. "Why would she get this put here— why didn't she ask me?"

"So...who is it about?" Audrey says in amusement.

"Please tell me you're the only one who has seen this..."

She scoffs through laughter, "far from it, there was an announcement about it this morning. Miss Carter...that English teacher? Yeah, she's really proud or something. It's an okay poem...I suppose."

I almost scowl before I decide it's not worth the effort, "thanks."

"What's the issue? People seem to like it," Audrey shrugs, "a bit early to be campaigning for prom queen though, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?" I narrow my eyes at her.

"Come on, it's obvious," she laughs in disbelief, "the love letters for Jace are so that you and he get nominated."

"Jace?"

"Yes, hon, he's seen it too...and quite frankly, we're all a little surprised you went back to him. Old habits die hard, I guess."

I groan and put my head down. Oversleeping was a blessing in disguise...and a sign that I should've stayed home.

"Heather Blakely," Mister Lanson calls me, "Our poet of the day..." may this torment never end? "Alfred Lord Tennyson did not define what melancholy is, rather he described it by using this jilted woman and her surroundings. The last line of Heather's poem really hinted on what Mariana felt when her lover did not return..."

"...yes?" I said, slightly offended by being compared to a miserable character.

"Mariana's origin in William Shakespeare's Measure for Measure confirms that her husband has abandoned her. What Tennyson did was give her a voice, and like most Victorian Age poems...it was a dreary voice indeed," he closed the textbook, "maybe Miss Blakely was inspired by the romanticism period instead," he joked, "unless she plans to also be deserted in a lonely moat by the one she loves."

"Can I talk to you, Heather?" I say reluctantly.

"...of course," she smiles, but I can tell she doesn't mean it.

"Alone...preferably."

"Jace," she sighs, "just sit down."

I sit across from her next to Alison and look around the table to see who else will have to witness this conversation.

"I read your poem..." I say quietly, despite the fact that no one seems to be listening in.

"Hasn't everyone?"

"It was really nice...and unexpected."

"Yes, well, Miss Carter didn't tell me it'd be published anywhere. I didn't expect this either."

"After thanksgiving, that moment we had in my room, and then everything you said about caring for someone...I didn't know how deep it went for you."

"...What do you mean?"

"I love you, Heather, but, I didn't mean to lead you on...everything that's been happening between us lately is because you said we should still be in each other's lives...and now everyone knows how you really feel," I explain, "but...I'm kind of with Evelyn."

"Wait— really?" Her jaw drops, "why would you be with a girl like that?"

"Because I like her," I say defensively.

"She's a notorious home wrecker," Heather laughs.

"Well, what do you look like writing things like that for a guy who has a girlfriend?"

Heather gives me an amused expression, "I'd probably look like Evelyn...but classier."

"Fuck you, Heather," I shake my head and stand up from the table, "cut the love poems out...it bothers my girlfriend, okay?"

She giggles in response, covering her mouth with her hand. "Mhm, no problem," she said as if she were trying to be serious.

I roll my eyes and start walking away from her.

"I don't get it..." I hear Alison say before I'm too far away.

"What?" Heather questions.

"I know you're completely out of love with Jace...so why are you letting everyone believe you're not?"

"Leonardo, to what do I owe the pleasure? Shouldn't you be in school?" Danny's dad greets me.

"Uh— yeah, I just need to talk to you about something. It's kind of important...and I figured it'd be better to do that here." You know, where you're sober. A functioning alcoholic tends to not drink before or during work...good job, I guess.

"Alright, have a seat," he gestures toward the chair by his desk. "Is everything okay? This isn't about Danny...is it?"

"No, Danny's great," I ease his worries, "it's about Matt."

"Matthew Jensen?" He asks for clarity.

"Yeah," I sigh, "he needs help...and I need you to get that for him."

"Can you be more specific?"

"Will I get him in trouble?" I ask before I say anything more.

"No, this is off the record," he assured me.

"Matt's brother— Spencer, he's making him do things that he doesn't want to do. Illegal things."

"...what kind of things?" He questions with a horrified expression.

"Oh, no! Not...that," I cringe at what he must have been thinking. "He's making him jack stereos out of cars."

"They're the ones doing that?" He slams his hands on his desk, "Do you know how many reports of radio thefts I've been getting lately?"

"You said he wouldn't get in trouble." I remind him.

"He won't...but this has to stop."

"That's why I'm here," I nod.

"And you're sure Matthew is an unwilling participant?" He raises an eyebrow.

"I'm sure," I say firmly.

"Okay," he stands up, "let me drive you to school."

"Wait— what are you going to do? You said you'd help."

"I will, but I can't involve you any further. You'll have to trust me. I want him out of this just as much as you do," He attempts to be reassuring...but all I hear is a drunk saying "trust me" and expecting me to do it.

I press my lips into a thin line and nod as he leads me out of the door.

At least there's a silver lining...I get to pull up to Addington in a cop car. Maybe I'll catch them between classes and get to see the look of shock and alarm in dozens of central faces.

The police radio was the only noise in the car. Danny's dad tried to make small talk, but I brushed off any conversation.

I would have asked him to drop me off at home instead, but my mom took the afternoon shift at the bakery today so she's still there.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Leonardo," I step out of the car, "Tell Danny his old man said 'hi,' okay?"

"Will do," no I won't. "Thanks," I wave him off and head up the stairs to the main doors, waiting until his car pulled away before I went around the building. If I walk right in, I'll have to get a pass or something.

I cut in through a side door that is always locked...but there's also always someone near it.

"Leo, what's up, man?" Nick Macy opens the door for me.

"I know you need to be in class," I laugh but greet him anyway, "Stop skipping, Nick."

"Leo?" Danny comes from around the stairs where a few other guys are hanging at. "Did you get lost or something, Rylin?" He says in annoyance. I didn't want to tell him I was going to see his dad, he probably would've talked me out of it.

"Why, did you miss me?" I tease.

"Shut up," he rolls his eyes, "here—" Danny hands me a newspaper, "your girl is famous, I saved you one."

"My girl?" I furrow my eyebrows.

"Heather."

"Not my girl, so I don't care," I try to hand it back to him.

"You can read it in the van, let's go," He ignores me.

"Why are we ditching?" I ask as I follow after him.

"Because...we were here yesterday," he shrugs and takes a cigarette from behind his ear once we're out of the building.

"That's kind of how it's supposed to work," I laugh because I know there's some other reason he wants us to leave.

"Not for me," he says and unlocks the van doors. I get in on the passenger side and wait for him to start the engine.

"So, are you going to read it or what?"

I sigh and shake my head as I contemplate the question, "...what is it?"

"I don't know, read it and find out."

I sucked my teeth at him in response, but he remained adamant. He wanted us to leave because he knew I wouldn't read it in there...

"Fine," I give in unenthusiastically and turn the thin pages until I see Heather's name under a poem titled "". I wanted so badly to not be interested...she's pissed at me anyway, what do I care? But as my eyes scanned over the words she wrote, even my heart began to race in captivation.

"The East Coast sunrise could not have prepared me

For good morning thoughts of good morning you

And I wouldn't dare wish for it to end

Because nothing has meaning when you're gone

What could I have expected— when

You stood there, looking like that

A social casualty armed like broken royalty, and I like the way you bite...

"This is not love," I say unconvinced.

My thoughts otherwise occupied, as I...

Drift through Manhattan wondering how you keep warm

And how you would feel— if we did kiss...

how your taste would linger upon my lips.

I just want to breathe you in.

I adore you more:

If even possible. Whenever I lay eyes on you,

I fall for yours

Am I with or without you?

This isn't a confession— but

You'll still hear me speak

So, read between the lines of my lips,

Then silence me with yours...

To keep me by your side,

It's not like me to let go.

Oh, who would have known?

I'd go mad for you

You swim in my thoughts—

Thoughts of drowning in your skin

With your body pressed against mine

And this feels like fire.

If I feel safe in your arms,

Will you stay here tonight?

In your moonlit softside...

Your bruises compliment mine.

I think we're catastrophic.

I want to be what makes you happy

And whatever you want...

If I am a friend, can I hold you close

And pretend that I need you the same?

You can't belong to someone else.

Daisies growing with roses—

We're together somewhere.

And, since time won't stand still...

Will you make hearts with our hands?

Shadows on the wall of your bedroom

Or can our fingers intertwine

So that I will be yours, and you will be—

Seeing me through seas

And crashing to shore from my touch.

If you make me talk tonight,

Then promise that you'll know...

How this could have happened...

The seasons change and—

You're the gray cloud when I miss the rain.

Tell me again the princess isn't worth saving.

Like a butterfly, I want to lay next to you in this flower bed.

You're addicted to something other than me,

I want to be more tempting than the smoke

When I hear you in everyone else's words...

And see you in everything blue...

Cold from climbing through your window.

Where are you now, and should I be sorry

That I pretend I don't look at you this way?

Stay as long as you need...

Inside these words, you are with me

Even when you drive me away,

All I ever want is to...

never stop running toward you

My safe house and my sanity,

Say you want to see me again—

In the moon and the stars

In my metamorphosis.

If that's not too much to ask

Then please ask for more—

While I wonder why you're not mine.

There's a mix for our emotions

Somewhere between: "I want to turn you on."

So can I press play...

by putting my hands on you?

Don't mind me, I think I've lost my mind.

You're not one to seek affection...

But, maybe, if you're alone tonight—

I'll wait without you

I live for all you are

And can't you tell? You are everything.

But I'll pretend if I have to...

Forget you if you want me to..."

"What are you smiling so hard for?" Danny furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"Nothing," I lied as if my unfaltering smile didn't give it away.

"Well, what's it say?"

I look over at him and chuckle arrogantly before I smirk...

"She fucking likes me."