A Genre Called Romance

Written for the: "The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt: Write a poem or story mentioning at least 15 different genres on Writing.com AND the word birthday. Please BOLD each word for easier judging.
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She was the loudest in the class, the noisiest and most troublesome. She always came in late, chewing gum and making no apologies. She was rude to anyone and everyone, quick to anger and always the first to start up some drama.

How I ended up being in detention with her was still a mystery.

She was staring at me, smacking loudly as I struggled to write my poem for a contest celebrating my favorite site’s sixth birthday. But how could I concentrate when she insisted on studying me like a supernatural phenomenon? I was the quietest, most unassuming guy in class, the butt of their comedy when they felt like it.

“Whatcha doing here, Skinny?” she finally asked with a sneer. “Peed on your pants again?”

I blushed and shook my head, wishing someone else was in the classroom with us. Mr. Peppers had gone to use the restroom, and I was stuck here alone with a girl who was probably into the Occult.

“You wrote on my locker,” I mumbled. I had gotten upset about it, and for the first time in my life tried to stand up to her. Unfortunately, our argument in the hallway got me a detention slip. Damn her.

“Oh yeah.” She blew a bubble. I wished it would pop all over her face. “So whatcha doing?”

“Writing,” I replied tightly. What in the world rhymes with inspirational?

“Writing what?”

The words ‘none of your business’ hovered on my tongue, but at the risk of getting my ass kicked on the way home, I replied with a quiet, “Nothing.”

Like that was going to stop her. With a speed that surprised me, she dove to snatch the paper out of my hand, dancing out of reach as she read the words, I had labored over, as loud as she could.

“Your eyes are like the stars, which sparkle in the night sky. Your smile makes me inspirational, which will….what the crap is this?!”

I was embarrassed to find I was getting emotional. Knowing that she thought my poem was terrible didn’t give me much of a confidence boost. I might as well quit while I was ahead. I wasn’t even going to place in the contest. I buried my face in my hands and groaned in misery.

“What’s the matter with you?” she asked.

“Forget it. Just forget it,” I said in resignation. “I’ll never be good anyway. I was just hoping to enter, but like you said, it’s crap and…”

“What are you talking about?” To my surprise she smacked me gently with the paper, an impatient look on her features. “So you’re a bit rusty, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed!”

I peered at her through my fingers unable to believe that the dumbest girl (her scores weren’t anything to brag about) was actually giving me advice on writing. I would have laughed if I wasn’t still afraid of getting beat up.

“There’s this website called Writing.com that I’m a part of,” she begins, “and they’ve got some cool forums that…what? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Now, the laughter came. I couldn’t believe it. “You have a WDC account?” I asked in surprise, amused to see her cheeks darken with color. She looked prettier.

“Yeah, so? I can write too.” She glared and dared me to laugh again.

“I have an account there! This was for a contest. You know…the ‘Writer’s Cramp?’”

Her green eyes lit up as she smacked my arm gently. “Get out! You’re writing this for today’s challenge? I already turned mine in.”

She looked smug, and I could feel my stomach doing nervous flip flops of both excitement and wariness. “What’s your username?

“Gothic4ever, since I like writing Fantasy stories and….” Her blush deepened and I knew why. She was one of my favorite Erotica writers and I had reviewed her work several times in the past. I didn’t know whether or not to—

“What’s your handle?” she asked.

Should I lie? I doubted it would make a difference. “It’s potterhead,” I muttered, flushing as her eyes widened at the revelation. An awkward silence fell between us as we both realized we had been corresponding on the internet/web all this time, while we were in the very same class. Talk about irony. I knew I was slowly falling for the girl behind the username. She was fun and vivacious, her stories able to draw you in with its melodrama and passion. It was hard to believe she was the same annoying girl in class.

“Why are you so different?” I finally asked.

She shrugged, looking a bit sad. “No one cares in real life. My family certainly doesn’t. I didn’t lie when I said I came from a troubled home. Everyone already has their opinions of me, so why bother changing it?” She held my gaze, and not for the first time, I felt myself drowning in its beauty.

I could only give a breathless ‘Oh’ in response.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Peppers asked as he walked into the room. “Chit chatting, eh? Get back to your seat, Scavali.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever Teach.” She blew another bubble to his face, and when he wasn’t looking, flipped him the bird.

And as if my day couldn’t get any better, she leaned close to whisper in my ear, her fruity breath tickling the tiny hairs gently. I was in teen heaven. “I’ll see you online tonight,” she whispered. “Good luck in the contest.”

With a smile – an actual smile – she went back to her seat and proceeded to put her feet on the desk, which of course, started another argument with Mr. Peppers. I tuned them out and focused on my poem, so full of inspiration, I felt I could write a million of them and never get tired. For knowing that I’d get to see her that night, on our favorite website, made the hours fly by quite quickly.


Word Count: 997


Disclaimer: Usernames in this story are by no means a reflection of anyone on the website. I just picked names randomly.

Genres: Teen, Family, Melodrama, Internet/Web, Gothic, Erotica, Fantasy, Writing.com, Emotional, Inspirational, Writing, Occult, Drama, Comedy, Supernatural, Contest, Mystery