Chapter 11

I walk into room 219 with my expertly written response to sonnet 18 already in my hand. I saunter up to the front desk where Thomas is busy marking up some noticeably long winded papers with a stereotypical red pen.

I hate those essays. You know, the kind that are like "I think sonnet 18 is really good because it shows how much the guy loves her. It is good because you don't see that much anymore. I love the way it is written, and I think old English is really cool..."

It's...