Listening

She sits on her desk, staring at the sky. The sun warms her through the window and she has to squint a little to protect her eyes from the bright light. Peaceful, ambient music contrasts the hasty "click-clicking" of the teacher at his keyboard. A student next to her surreptitiously texts the boy whom she denies she has no interest in dating but a smile creeps across the students face with every new text message she receives. The girl sighs at this idiocy and turns her face back to the sun, eyes closed, basking it its rays. Now, she doesn't see anything. She only hears. The window is cracked open, so the soft hum of cars in the carpool line floats  up into the classroom. The giggles of middle schoolers playing hooky fill her ears. In the room, she hears he whoosh of pencils across paper as students work furiously to get as much done on their essay as they can.
"I don't need to now," she thinks, "I have time."
She begins to think about how much works she has. She only has one test left this week. Not many teachers are giving homework either. But then it hits her: "I have to blog."
She sighs and grabs a pen and paper and begins to brain storm. The page stays blank for a while. Again, she lifts her head to the sun and listens. She hears the music, the teacher at the keyboard, the clicking of the texter, the carpool line, the middle schoolers and the pencils. Then she smiles and looks down at her paper. She begins to write about seventh period AP English.