What should I do? I didn't want to do what she requested but I couldn't go against the teacher's order. Ruth was looking at me with her smiling eyes that it was hard to say no.
I got up from my seat and went up to the ‘imaginative stage'.
“Ivanna, hand her your poem please” she requested and with a sly smile, the weirdo passed the paper to me.
I eyed the paper, gripping it tightly in my hand. Why was I doing this anyway? I wanted to scream at this girl.
It was a poem by Sylvia Plath, titled ‘Tulips.’
I haven't read this one and it wasn't a short poem either. I barely managed to perform mine, why the hell should I bother to do it for her? and why? because she asked to?
“Mm... This must be interesting” Ruth mused, peeking at the paper without my notice. “This poem is complex and i
