I Love English Class


The door slammed in my face. I always seemed to get caught in that awkward time where someone stops holding the door for me. I pulled the door open and cut down the corner.


The girl in front of me flinched forward. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.” I said. She rolled her eyes. Kids these days. Makes it seem like I want to carry 45 books in my backpack. Class was in the basement floor. The stairs always proved to be a choke point. “Oh my god.” I thought and plugged my nose for safe measure.

In front of me was a trench coat guy. His hair looked like a Crisco factory. “I legitimately might throw up all over this fucker. GOOOOOO!” I thought. Not the best smell for a man in my condition. We got to the last step and went the opposite direction of him. Never mind I was late. Clearing you’re senses before class is way more important.

I cut through the Math section just as Mrs. Stevens closed the door.

“So glad of you to join us!” She said.

Classic Feminist. 60 year old English professors always were. I would love to tell her one day: “I’m sorry I have a penis. Even though it’s convenient to piss, trust me when I say, it gets me into a LOT of trouble.” Somehow I feel like that wouldn’t help.

“You look rough,” Whitney said.

I took my seat glaring at her the whole time. “oh my god, you showed up today,” I said. “Alert the press!” The zipper got caught my bag.

“Yea you’re definitely had too much to drink last night. That was weak,” She said.

“Always assume it’s the booze. Can’t I just get normal sick sometime?” I said, finally getting the bag open. I placed my copy of “Fences” on the 70’s style desk. The entire row  welded together by a bar. Apparently they didn’t want 20 year olds walking off with anything.

“Nope,” She responded.

“WELL Great since you two seem to be in SUCH a talkative mood you can read the role of Troy and Rose.” Mrs. Stevens said.

“I call Rose” I said. Couldn’t help myself. The class laughed while the professor gave me a dirty look.

“Darby, we’re on page 45. Please begin.”

I looked down. The words began to spin. The top paragraph blended with the bottom. “Oh shit,” I thought. I took a second to look around the room. Mrs. Stevens stared right at me.

“We’re waiting,” she said.

“Sorry. From the Top?” I asked. Figured it might buy me some time.

“Yeah,” She said with a hint of dumbass in her voice.

My eyes peered down again. I could see Whitney from the corner of my eye. She knew. She could see it in my face. This was going to be a day no one forgot.

I started reading. “My eyes gazed at the star—”


Everyone went silent. You could even hear the dripping off the desk. Finally Mrs. Stevens killed the mood.


For the first time in class, I had nothing to say.

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