Come Monday
“She’d received another C-plus. Professor Wallace had finished handing out the graded work and was beginning his lesson on the importance of dialogue in fictional writing. Screw him and his damn quotation marks. She’d only taken this creative writing class on the advice of her advisor, who claimed she needed another English credit to fulfill the college’s stupid general education requirements. So far she’d taken two years’ worth of what she called “High School, the Sequel”, all without setting foot in a single class in her major program. She wanted a degree in business technology, not to be the next freaking Nora Roberts. The worst part of this class was, she knew her papers were perfect. English had always been one of her best classes in high school. She knew how to write a complete sentence—unlike Roy Decker. She glanced at the nineteen-year-old frat boy next to her to try to see what grade he’d gotten. She’d been paired up with Roy as critique partners the first week of class back i...n January.MoreLess
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