The morning traffic isn't bad today. The winter months are usually good, unless there's an accident. During the summer months, the quaint island is filled with tourists, and visitors from the mainland who want to go to the beaches here. The place is small enough that you can drive from one side to the other in ten minutes, it's the bridge that ends up getting congested, and it can sometimes back up for a mile up the road.

I pull into the school parking lot. It's early enough for me to park close to the school. Derek jets out of the car without a word.

"Thank you would be nice," I call out after he's already shut the door.

Taking him to school isn't the end of the world, especially since we don't have to fight over the radio. We both listen to the same music, so it's an easy ride. Dad was a big fan of the late nineties early two-thousands pop/punk music, and got all three of us into it. His earlier years weren't all business suites and meetings. He loved music, and loved spending all of his money on concerts and rock cds. Derek and I like the genre a little more than Dom, so it's at least something we can bond over. Dom and I used to bond over our love for playing instruments, but the past few years we've drifted.

I give myself a glance in the rearview mirror, my eye makeup isn't perfect. The black eye liner on one side is a bit thicker, but it will do for now. I step out of the car.

"Marnie!" Cameron Fisher or Cam as he likes to be called, screams from across the lot.

A surge of joy rushes through me at the sound of his voice. He's just a few rows over, and starts jogging. Cam has been one of my best friends since we were in elementary school. We met at the bus stop when he moved here in third grade and have been inseparable since. Our relationship changed drastically halfway through freshman year, when he asked me to the winter formal as his girlfriend. At only fifteen he swept me off my feet. It was kind of romantic as it happened during the first snowfall of the year in my front yard. With the flakes falling and the white twinkling Christmas lights above us, it was perfect. Ever since then we've been together. We've had some rough patches, but mostly things between us are amazing.

Cam is an athlete and there's no mistaking that from the build of his body. He's tall and stocky. This season he dedicates himself to wrestling, and the past two years he's taken his team to the championship. He's also the best pitcher during spring baseball season, quarterback in the fall, and runs track at a local church in the summer.

As Cam gets closer to me, I can't help but admire the handsome creature he is. His tight blonde curls bounce as he jogs, reminding me of Justin Timberlake's hair pre solo career. Cam reaches me, pulling me into his arms. I breathe him in as his lips touch the top of my head.

"Morning."

A smile lights up his face. I know he's still running on a high from his meet on Saturday. Half his team won, and then they spent the weekend celebrating their victories. I haven't seen him since Friday, but he made sure to call me from the road to let me know how well he did.

Cam's lips lingers over mine as a loud beat up silver Honda comes rolling into the spot next to where we are both standing, missing us by a few inches. I throw a glare over at the car as the person steps out. Before I see his face, I know it's Flint Rogers by his faux hawk, a style that he's convinced is still in.

"Learn how to drive!" I scold.

The passenger door opens wide as his girlfriend, Margot, steps out in her skimpy leopard print leather skirt. She's hardly wearing anything. I'm shocked she hasn't gotten kicked out for her lack of clothing.

Flint turns to Cam and his face shows no remorse for almost running us over. It's no surprise, Flint's your typical high school loser. In seventh grade he was caught smoking under the bleachers, and there were days he would skip out on school early. I don't mean to take notice, but I do. My friends and I pretty much run the school, so knowing everyone just comes with the territory.

Cam ignores Flint and pulls me into him, his hands linger on my lower back. Our lips collide together. I squeal while his fingertips graze the skin on my lower back.

"Get a room!"

I press my lips harder into Cam and direct my middle finger in the air at Flint. Cam's hands continue to slide under my white marshmallow jacket. I'm not comfortable with it going too far, so I pull away. He smirks.

Ignoring Flint we head into school to go find our own friends. Cam spots Pete and the rest of the wrestling team and veers off in their direction, while I head straight for my locker.

"Hey girl."

One of my best friends, Rosealie Gardener, leans against my locker, her long bare legs crossed in front of her. Today she's wearing her green and yellow cheerleading uniform that makes her curves pop. Cheerleading was something I never got into, but she lives and breathes cheer.

"Hey Rose."

She hates to be called Rosealie, because people tend to compare her to the character in Twilight. She resembles her a little with her bouncy blonde curls, so instead of letting them down she keeps her hair tight in a bun.

I start turning the combo on the thin blue locker she's leaning up against, when someone grabs a hold of my shoulder and shakes me. I turn to see Tanya Clark. Like Cam, she is big into sports, mostly basketball, but she's captain of the soccer team in the spring too. She's also almost six foot tall, and built tough and strong. Her dark skin glows with excitement as she dances around.

"Excited for the big game?"

I turn to her while pulling out a few textbooks for my morning classes.

"Yes, nervous as hell though," she says grinning, showing off her pearly whites.

This girl could be a model. She's the whole package, both tall and absolutely stunning. She especially looks amazing in the blue and gold sports jersey she tore apart and crafted into a crop top. She's like a jack of all trades, I don't think there's anything that girl can't do.

I shut my locker and lean up against it, facing Rose and Tanya.

"Ah, no way girl you got this," Rose says.

"Yes, and we'll be there to cheer you on," I say, hugging my teal writer's notebook to my chest.

There are some scouts coming to today's girls basketball game, and Tanya has been obsessing over it for weeks. Both her coach and father believe she's going to get a big time scholarship with her abilities. She's one of the best female athletes in school. Her father doesn't live with her, but he's the only one who shows up to her sporting events. He knows, as we all do, that she is going to go far with sports.

Tanya stands there biting at her nails, an awful nervous habit, especially when you get weekly manicures. I reach over and place my hand over her wrist. She glances up through her lashes.

"You got this!" I say.

The bell rings, and we all moan in horror. We spend our morning separated in different classes. The only thing keeping me from hating my morning classes is the fact that I have English and creative writing with Mr. Shepherd third and fourth period.

He's my favorite teacher. At the start of freshman year he approached me. He had seen my writing for a school writing competition in eighth grade, and said he had to have me on the paper. I had never written articles, but even before I became one of his students he helped me through the process. I've learned a lot from him, and I"m grateful for it, because I love writing.

***

By the time the bell rings at the end of the third period I'm ready for a nap. Math and History aren't my strongest subjects. I'm barely scraping by with a C. It's good that I'm not into sports like my friends, because I could never maintain my grades and play at least three games a week, plus practices. My love lies with writing and reading. I spend my afternoons crafting articles for the paper, but I'm home before five and have plenty of time to do my homework and study.

The bell rings again indicating that class has started. For both English and Writing I stay in the same seat next to the window. Sometimes staring out into the courtyard gives me inspiration to write when we are given prompts. Mr. Shepherd's back is turned towards us as he starts up the smart board. He's one of the younger teachers, fresh out of grad school, and stealing teenage girls' hearts, but not literally.

He faces us, his piercing blue eyes scan the room. He's mentally checking off who is here and who isn't. His mouth opens as the classroom door swings open. Flint Rogers comes sauntering in like he's not five minutes late.

"Nice of you to join us Mr. Rogers."

Of course his seat is directly behind mine. He stares at Mr. Shepherd and smirks, "It's my pleasure," he says.

There's an echo of laughter in the room, but I find myself rolling my eyes instead. He slides in behind me. He's tall and his legs are so long that he kicks the basket under my seat. I grip the sides of my desk attempting to pay attention.

"Okay, now that everyone is here I'll start."

He scans the room to make sure everyone has settled down.

"I told you last week we would be starting a project that will involve some partner work. Now here's the thing, I've already picked the partners for the assignment." He pauses for a moment, to allow his words to sink it.

"Now before you moan," he says quickly. "Just know I did this for your own good. We can't always work with someone we are best friends with. In fact one of the assignments will be getting to know your partner. I understand you guys are seniors and you've all known each other since you were tots, but..."

He's pacing back and forth in the front of the room. His hands are clasped behind his back as his dress shoes click on the linoleum floor.

"You have your own little groups, and maybe it's about time some of you branch out."

I swear he looks directly at me.

"I want you to speak to someone you have never spoken to, or maybe someone who you have spoken to, but know nothing about. Or maybe you'll fall in love."

He stops pacing and leans against the old metal desk. My heart pounds in my chest, wondering who he will set me up with. I'd love to be paired with Jordan Hayes, he already has a book published at just seventeen, and I'd love to pick his brain. Or maybe he'll put me with Catherine Santos, she's top in our class and would probably make a good partner.

"Alright so each week there will be a different assignment that you and your partner will have to accomplish together. The first week we will be keeping it light and easy, but next week is when the real fun begins."

He walks around the desk and grabs his planner. I don't know who still actually uses those things. Mr. Shepherd, although young, tends to do things the old fashioned way on occasion.

"Alright folks," he says, opening his book, and leaning back against the front of his desk again.

Names are being read, and I find myself closing my eyes in preparation for the moment he says my name. My leg bounces under the table. I try not to glance around the room, but I have to know what options I have left, and there aren't many. He has to be getting closer to the end of the roster at this point. It's just my luck that Jordan and Catherine have already been paired with someone.

"Marnie Bennett and Flint Rogers," he says.

My heart stops beating, but my leg is a never ending bundle of nerves. That can't be right. I raise my hand right away, and he stares down at me with a raised brow.

"No Marnie, I will not change your partner." He grumbles something under his breath.

My mouth drops open, and I roll my shoulders."But Mr. Shepherd I..."

"Think of it as a way to expand your circle of friends." He holds out his hands like he's spreading something out in front of him.

He moves on, but I'm too upset to continue to pay attention. How could he put me with Flint? The only thing he knows how to do is write songs for his awful band. Okay, so I've never actually heard their music before, but there's no way he could be a good partner for me.

"Ready to fall in love?" I almost jump out of my seat. Flint's hot breath dances along my neck.

My shoulders rise, as I try to ignore the way the tiny hairs on my neck stand on end. I cringe and it takes all of my will power to not reach back and smack him.

"Mr. Shephard!" I whine like a spoiled child who doesn't get their way.

He ignores me and I grab a hold of the sides of my desk to keep me grounded. Why can't this be a dream? This could ultimately lead to me failing. My grades have been slipping enough, there's no way it can handle another hit. I can't remember the last time that boy did an assignment, maybe Kindergarten? I wish I could scream.

Once Mr. Shepherd says the final pairing he starts talking about the types of prompts we will be working on, but I can barely hear it over the rage inside my head.

"Feel anything yet?" he whispers. This time I swear his lips tickle my ear. The shiver that runs through me is enough to send me into a frenzy.

"Oh my god, Mr. Shephard!" I yell.

He turns around and stares directly at Flint behind me. He focuses on him first. "Mr. Rogers, please cut the commentary," he says, then focuses on me. "Ms. Bennett, you'll just have to ignore it."

I cross my arms at my chest and continue to pout like a child who has just been told no. I thought Mr. Shepherd was my favorite teacher, but now I'm not so sure. I sit back in my chair and wait.

"Okay, so our first assignment," he says, putting his planner on the table. "Is going to be a tapestry poem. I will go around the room with this jar." He holds up a glass jar with several folded pieces of paper inside. "Each group will pick one paper out of here, you will each write a poem individually based on the idea you pick. Then the two of you will combine your poems together. They will be read in class on Friday. Partners please sit together."

I want to protest, kick, scream, and carry on, only I don't. I spin my desk slowly to face his. He's sitting back, eyes closed with his arms behind his head. It's like he doesn't have a care in the world. His lips press into a straight hard line, and for a moment he's actually not bothering me. His eyes fly open, and my jaw twitches.

He stares down at the red notebook I've laid out on the desk. Before I can stop him he reaches for it, and spins it around, so that he can read the lyrics I've written on the front cover. I want to grab hold of my notebook, but his large hand covers almost the entire book.

He narrows his warm hazel eyes at me. "Didn't peg you as a punk rock loving girl," he says, unable to meet my eyes.

"And I totally pegged you as an ass, what's your point?"

Mr. Shepherd clears his throat. He holds the jar out between us, waiting. He shifts on his feet, and huffs loudly. Flint finally looks up at me, and then at Mr. Shepherd.

"She'll choose," he says, nodding in my direction.

I shrug my shoulders, hoping that I end up with a good one. There aren't many left, and I realize that we are the last group to choose. I let out a heavy breath and reached my hand into the glass jar. I swirl my hand around the papers inside. When I feel confident that I've picked something good I pull it up and unfold it.

"An event that's changed you."

The blood drains from my face, and my heart pounds so loud that it echoes in my ear. When I catch Flint's eye for a brief moment he looks just as taken aback by our selection as I am.

"Alright, so there you have it. Your assignment for tonight will be to write your version of the poem, then you will both come back together and make your poem one. During the last fifteen minutes of class on Friday I will call a few of you up to read the poems."

For the first time all semester I'm relieved when the bell finally rings signifying the end of class. I grab a hold of my things, including the notebook and storm out of the room before Mr. Shepherd or Flint can say another word to me.