The sun rose over the ocean
And sprinkled the world with gold
I stared at the all but blank page in front of me. Why, oh why did I choose English III? I can't, for the life of me write a single poem. Words sounded good in my head, but as soon as I wrote them down on paper, the illusion vanished.
I stared out the window. I didn't even know why Mom insisted on me going to school anyway, I knew how my life planned out. After high school I would get a job in La Push, maybe at the Auto-Repair or the little restaurant down near the sea. I didn't really care, because my real job would be protecting the citizens of La Push. A lot of my friends had dreams of travelling, and big bright careers, but I didn't care what I was doing, as long as I was home protecting my friends and family.
As far as I was concerned though, I'd rather skip the high school bit, what good was it going to do me? And all the studying on top of shifts with Sam and his pack was a nightmare.
A piercing howl woke me from my stupor. I sighed, "Screw poetry". I screwed up the poem I'd been working on and tossed it in the wastebasket. A pack meeting, what was going on?