Wednesday, Emily's POV

I headed down the hall towards the writer's club room at lunch, full and ready to meet the other people in my group, and get to know Chester. But when I entered the classroom, the only one there was Chester. I was suddenly overcome with shyness.

"Welcome! You're the first one here," he greeted me.

"I see that," I responded, sitting in the front row desk. "I thought the other people would be here. Who's in the group, by the way?" Chester moved from his perch on top of a table to check a small clipboard. I couldn't help but notice the way he moved-smoothly, so much so it was almost elegant. I opened up my notebook and started scribbling.

"We have Leslie Grumman, Arthur Phillip, Faye Martin, Eliza Steppenkoff, William Brewer, and Bianca Malone." Upon hearing that name, my head shot up.

"Bianca writes?" I asked, shocked. Chester nodded. The door to the room creaked open, and in filed Eliza, Leslie, and Bianca. I took a deep breath, readying myself for whatever scathing comment Bianca would try to throw at me. She scoffed when she saw me.

"Hey there Emily, are you writing love letters to Alfie again? Tsk, tsk, they'll be useless anyway."

"Obviously I had what you didn't; a personality. Maybe you can buy it with you daddy's money-oh wait, didn't your last purchase bounce?" I resisted the urge to snap my fingers as she turned away with a frustrated flourish. I resumed writing with a smirk, but was stopped by Chester's voice.

"Welcome, everyone, to Creative Writing Club! I'm Chester, as you know, and I'd like to start with everyone telling a little about themselves and their writing. Emily, will you start?"

"Uh, OK," I replied. "I'm Emily, and I write poems and sci-fi/fantasy. I have too many favorite authors to count, but most recently it's been John Green." I gestured to right, where a prim freshman with a brunette bob and dark chocolate eyes sat.

"Um, I'm Eliza, she began, barely above a whisper. "I like short stories, but I really want to write a mystery novel. My favorite author has to be E.L. Konigsberg. I'm so sad she passed." Her sincerity was evident, and I guess that's why Bianca scoffed. I shot her a look to quiet her, but it was to no avail. Chester prompted a gruff dirty blonde boy who looked like he should be on the football team.

"I'm William. My English teacher said I should join this club because I 'could use some outside support'. I write whatever I feel like. My favorite author is James Fenimore Cooper." He finished curtly, and while I'm pretty sure the rest of the group felt pretty awkward, Bianca waved flirtatiously at him. William just rolled his eyes. Next was Leslie, and redheaded junior who loved romance and Jude Deveraux. Arthur liked historical fiction and Leslie. I assume that was his way of asking her out because they were whispering to each other soon after. I turned my attention to Faye, a very interesting character. She had crystalline blue eyes and tan hair with violet streaks in it, done in the style of Skrillex, but somehow better.

"I'll write and read anything, but to be honest I've got kind of an obsession for well-written gore." Yep, I definitely liked Faye. Bianca started in on her spiel with a disgusted look on her face.

"You all know who I am," She giggled fakely, "but I do like to read and write romance. My favorite author is Stephanie Meyer." I groaned mentally and saw Faye roll her eyes.

"Well, this certainly is an eclectic group," Chester said, breaking the awkward tension. "Does anyone have some writing they brought?" The whole room stalled. Writing was the safe haven, the secret place only the most trusted people could see. I know I didn't trust anyone here. But Bianca seemed to be oblivious.

"Emily's got some great work; I'll bet she wants to show you!"

"Fucking great," I muttered under my breath, and began to read. "The swan alighted on a small pond, the water as clear as cut diamond. Its pristine white wings stretched out gracefully, tired from its long trip home. Only now began the wait for its mate, the loneliest journey of his lifetime."

"It's really stupid, but I just felt like writing that," I explained. A small round of polite applause followed.

"And thus the bitch hath glided across the mothafuckin water…And damn he looked fine," William cracked, earning a laugh from the group.

"Nice job, Emily. When did you write that?" asked Chester.

"Just before everyone else came in here," I admitted, smiling shyly. The bell rang abruptly, ending lunch.

"OK, everyone write or bring something in for the adventure genre next week!" Chester blurted. "See ya!" I departed for Science.