As we entered the classroom the first thing we noticed was that Ms. Donovan had rearranged our desks into stacked rows of two. First item on her list today appeared to be a new seating arrangement for us. The class shared a collective groan; they weren't happy about this, and I couldn't say I blame them.

It wasn't about the socializing for me. I could make conversation. It's just that I had a bad experience with partners and not much luck in getting along with them.

For the most part I did about as well as expected with lesson plans, and I learned that what the professors taught in Starkhouse wasn't all that much different from what they taught at my old school. If you didn't count the dissimilar classes Starkhouse offered like Agriculture and Wildlife, that is.

It didn't matter what region of the mountains I moved to, some people were just naturally good at taking tests and doing homework while others, with a little effort, passed with flying colors. I had to study at regular intervals just to keep information in my brain. It just so happened that the partner Ms. Donovan placed me with was neither of those things. Darcy liked to copy off of people, which was fine and dandy, but that meant I couldn't count on him to help me with this new assignment the professor handed over. I had to do all the work solo. Not that I'm complaining because for all of Darcy's annoying habits I had to say, I liked his silence most of all.

Paying attention to Ms. Donovan wasn't difficult in spite of all that I had going on. While I couldn't wait to talk to Chanel, I welcomed the distraction and put all my efforts in this one assignment with so much confidence that there was no way I could do bad. Or so I thought.

Though graduation was still months away student counselors were already disrupting class to pull their seniors out and discuss options. I already knew what was in store for me, so I had a speech in place for when my time came.

The people I ate lunch with were already writing their essays for their preferred college campuses, and even Josh was talking about taking a year off to go abroad to help with a couple of children's foundations that his father donated to.

And although neither Mason nor Wesley mentioned their plans, I was sure their parents' wealth and status would impress the most prestigious alumni throughout the world.

College wasn't for me. In regards to my future, I hadn't devised a goal; I only knew that I wanted - to be healthy in mind, body, and spirit. Wasn't happiness the most important thing when it came to living as an adult?

I wasn't setting myself up for less than I deserved; my philosophy was to stay unprepared, that way I was open to excitement and could play it by ear.

My eyes flickered from student to student and stopped on Kira who, at the moment, was the poster child of pissed off and brooding. I could feel the resentment and unexpressed rage radiating from her petite body. Hmm. Interesting.

I bent my head to the side and got a better look at Kira.

Kira pulled a morose face, her eyebrows knitted together as she sulked in repugnance from the last row in seat number three. It was so obvious by the way Kira acted that she was not happy that she had Tasha for a partner.

When I looked at Tasha I didn't get any strong vibes from her at all. In fact, she seemed to be doing her thing as always, sitting up straight and smiling at everyone she talked to.

So maybe Tasha was the polar opposite of Kira. So what? Just because they weren't carbon-copies didn't mean they couldn't hit it off.

I thought if Kira would stop regressing and maintain a positive attitude and mindset, then she would realize that having Tasha as a partner wasn't such a bad thing. Furthermore, I concluded that if I could befriend someone like Kira then it was logical that all Kira needed to do was give Tasha a fighting chance. However, maybe, being Kira, that was just not possible.

I scan the aisle further up and find Wesley in the front row sitting beside Danika, the petite Asian who had a fondness for spikes and screws.

All in all, it seemed to me like they were hitting it off well. Them getting along didn't surprise me because Wesley had a like-able personality that allowed him to befriend anyone easily no matter what common friend connected them.

"You're doing the assignment, right?" Darcy asks me.

I turn around in my seat, facing the classroom, and look calculatingly at the boy sitting next to me.

I turn my attention back to my own personal concern of the hour. "Yeah." It didn't sound so bad.

And after forty minutes of uninterrupted poem interpretation through careful word analysis I had come up with a cohesive explanation and had provided several comprehensive examples to support my findings just like Ms. Donovan had specifically asked for.

Hopefully Ms. Donovan would look at it and agree with what I put down.

Dressed in a black and white polka dotted outfit, Ms. Donovan gave the classroom a once over. "What form of romanticism does Lowell use?" she asks out loud, sharpening her narrow gaze from one student to the next, seemingly unsatisfied with each and every one.

When no one volunteers Ms. Donovan whips her head and focuses her attention to Wesley.

"Mr. Appletree, please enchant us with your firm understanding of Lowell."

"Romance." Wesley sits up straight and strengthens his response. "Although romanticism has very little to do with things popularly thought of as 'romantic'. In this poem nature is used as an important aspect of romanticism," Wesley further explains.

Ms. Donovan smiles encouragingly. Fresh plum-wine lipstick against pink gums. "How does Lowell show his love for this woman?" she asks him.

"Lowell depicts his love for her through nature and symbols," Wesley starts. Many students would be intimidated by the breakneck speed at which Ms. Donovan fired off her questions. Really, there was no difficult question that Wesley could not answer.

Wesley reads a section from the poem My Love. "In the beginning of the poem Lowell describes only one girl; he says this woman is 'beneath the silver evening star, and yet her heart is ever near.' Here Lowell uses nature to inform the reader that he feels her though she is not near him. He also hopes the wind will blow her to him so that he can see her again," Wesley demonstrates.

Ms. Donovan praises Wesley. "Good job, Mr. Appletree." More smiling.

Ms. Donovan walks in front of her desk, gesturing around the room with her white tipped manicured hands. "Can someone else besides Mr.Appletree tell us what the poem My Love is about?"

Tasha was the first to raise her hand. Surprise, surprise. "It's about a guy and his love for a girl who he compares to an angel."

Tasha smiles knowing she got it right.

"That's right," Ms. Donovan agrees, her tight curls bobbing up and down her black dress shirt.

"What is one passage in the poem that can verify Tasha's observation?"

Tasha raises her hand but Ms. Donovan overlooks the girl with a thing for pink and picks Kira to answer the question instead.

Kira sighs cheerlessly.

Her current attitude definitely fit the puzzle of young delinquent. Though it said nothing about her smarts. I had to say even though Kira hated talking in class she knew more about this poem stuff than I did.

Kira cites a portion from the poem. "'And patiently she folds her wings to tread the humble paths of earth,'" Kira looks up from her paper and right at Ms. Donovan and sighs aguishly, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here right now, but continues. "Basically, he says that she is to a goddess like to be on earth, but he is glad that she is coming soon to be his," Kira deduces.

"I'm curious, tell me, what is your personal opinion in regards to this poem?" Ms. Donovan asks her, seemingly interested in what Kira had to say.

"Oh, come on." Kira looks Ms. Donovan dead on. Kira's face changes from humorous to brooding as she realizes the professor isn't joking. "You're serious." Kira rolls her eyes and sighs. "Fiiiiine."

"It's a bit overdone. Sure, Lowell's expression pertaining to nature to put his feeling into poems is the stuff of romance but we all know how romance plays itself out in real life. Even though a man treats a woman how she thinks she wants to be treated, she eventually runs into the arms of another," Kira asserts her fact given logic.

"Personally, I think it's cute. Totally romantic. I would love it if my boyfriend wrote poems for me," Tasha says, interrupting Kira.

A professor of literature, she always encouraged us to openly talk about the meaning behind poems.

Ms. Donovan approaches Wesley with a dazzling smile. "Since you started the discussion why not tell us how it makes you feel."

"I don't agree with Kira," Wesley argues.

I look behind me when Kira's name came out of Wesley's mouth. Apart from the little I knew about the two I didn't know if Kira and Wesley liked each other as friends or were enemies.

I turn my focus back to the center of attention.

Wesley continues backing up his earlier statement, his blond hair flopping to one side.

"This is a poem based on a man who knows that the love of his life is out there somewhere; all that she has to do is make herself known. He's ready to be with her, but his angel has not yet shown her face," he says.

Sooner than expected the bell rings, interrupting Wesley from giving his take on our current poem of the day.

Ms. Donovan gives one last speech while I gather my things.

"That's it for today. Save your assignments and turn them in tomorrow first thing after the bell rings," she announces to all in a loud voice because students had begun to stand and pack up.

I re-arrange the paper in a folder and put everything I'd used away inside my backpack, organizing it behind the standard paraphernalia of notebooks and the rule ledger I got at orientation in case I forgot What Not To Do.

As I'm getting ready to leave I feel another person standing close by.

I look up and smile.

"Where are you going?"

"To the library," I declare, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and pushing my chair under the desk I shared with Darcy.

Welsey looked at me with a weird face, teeth showing, nose scrunched up like he was congested.

"Next you'll tell me a book is better than having a boyfriend," he said in a low, playful voice.

"Har har har. It's my free period and I have a lot of studying to do. Look, I'll see you later, okay?" I wave goodbye over my shoulder before he said anything else.