Chapter Eleven

"A Really Good Assignment"

A/N: Wheee! I updated! Sorry for being such a biyotch about the updating recently. It's just that I had exams, etc. etc. etc. You are fully allowed to hate me.

But I've updated now, anyway. As you can see. Cause you're reading this.

Right then. Here goes...

Monday morning. I'm heading to Lit. Another day, just the same as the ones before it. The only way you could tell that something was different is from the dark bags under my eyes, where I stayed awake until dawn in the futile hope that I could figure out a reason why Patrick did what he did.

I walk into the classroom, wondering who's going to speak first, as I know you will. It's one of the White Rastas. "Kat, you sway to the rhythm of my heart." I glare at him and walk on, unperturbed.

A cowboy next. "Dance for me, cowgirl!" Another glare, and I continue, the walk to my desk taking forever.

Oh no, who's this, blocking my way? I look up. Joey Donner. Great.

"Kat, babe, what do we owe you for the table dance?" he asks, laughing at me. I give him my frostiest glare yet, and sit down.

"Alright, not that I give a damn but how was everybody's weekend?" Mr Morgan asks. The same way he does every Monday.

"I don't know, why don't we ask Kat?" Donner asks, rounding on me.

I feel like crying. I've had enough of his abuse, had enough of everything. The empty space where Patrick usually sits is glaring at me.

"Unless she kicked the crap outta your dumb butt, I don't wanna hear about it!" shoots Morgan right back. Normally I'd be triumphantly smiling – normally, in fact, I'd have made a comeback first – but I can't really think of anything that could make me smile this morning. It would have to be something very unusual.

"Open your books to page 73, sonnet 141," Morgan tells us. I do so numbly, staring at the page without even reading it. "And listen up. In faith I do not love thee with mine eyes..." I look up, the beginning of a shocked smile spreading across my face. He's rapping Shakespeare?! He continues -"...for they in thee a thousand errors note. But tis my heart that loves what they despise, which despite their view is pleas'd to dote."

There is a sort of shocked silence from the class. The White Rastas are grinning victoriously. Everyone else is pretty much stunned into silence, a shocked smile much like mine across their countenance.

Turned out Morgan had planned something very unusual.

"Now, I know Shakespeare's a dead white guy, but he knows his shit, so we can overlook that," he tells the class, who are still enthralled.

"I want you all to write your own version of this sonnet." A communal groan. The class no longer in awe. I put my hand in the air.

Although he has his back to me, he knows. "Yes, Miss I-Have-An-Opinion-About-Everything?"

I smile. "Do you want this in iambic pentameter?" I ask sweetly, shocking the rest of the class as much as I shock him.

"You're not gonna fight me on this?"

Another sweet, sincere smile. Even I didn't realise Patrick Verona would turn my life around this much...Whoa. Not Patrick. What am I talking about? I just like the assignment. That's all. "No, I think it's a really good assignment."

He chuckles, disbelieving. "You're just messing with me, aren't you?"

I'm a little shocked he doesn't believe me, but smile yet again anyway. "No, I'm really looking forward to writing it."

His smile changes to a glare, and he spits, furiously – "Get outta my class!"

I'm completely astounded. Is this as far as a change of heart gets me? "What?"

"Out, get out!" He means it, looming over me, gesturing toward the door. Stunned, I pack my books and go, too taken aback to be angry – yet.

From outside, I hear Donner – "Thanks, Mr Morgan," and Morgan's quick "Shut up."

It's all Patrick's fault.

Of course.

A/N: smiles sweetly Please don't kill me? Please? Pretty please with flowers on top? Please will you review instead? flutters eyelashes cutely

oh, and l'ilmissnitpick? I am English. Football is a game played with twenty two players, eleven per side, one ball, two goals. That's just the way it is. Sorry if it bothers you.