A Unique and Torn Romance

“Take out your notebooks and write down your thoughts on this subject,” the teacher says.

My thoughts on this subject.

My thoughts on this subject is that Bob is.. He’s… I…

Fuck!

What the fuck was that? Why did I go along with that? I'm not that kind of person. Or, at least I never thought I'd be. Having sex on school premises? When did I become that person? That slut?

“Michael,” the teacher says. I look up, baffled. She points at my notebook. I look down at it. It's open, my pencil pressed to a blank page. I look back up.
“Start writing. Anything at all. That's the point of speed writing.” I smile quickly out of pure reflex. It's my nature – being the geek who always smiles when the teacher is nice to you. I'm not the kind of person to have sex in the school's bathroom. Locker room. With another guy.

I look down at the blank piece of paper.

'Is he just using me? Is it a relationship? Does he like me at all, or is it all just bull? Maybe it's a plot – a plan. He's just messing with me. This is just some elaborate prank.
It might as well be.
If it is, then it's already worked. He's fucked me up already. He's changed everything about me – converted every part of me into this...
I don't know who I am anymore.'

I look up at the blackboard.

'The effects of the Wall Street Crash of 1929'

I tear out the page of messy handwriting, slide down the chair a bit to wedge it into the pocket of my jeans and start the assignment on a new, clean page.