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Five hundred eighty steps. The ringing of the bell sounded as I took my last stride through the door. The glistening white tiles almost blinded me as I stepped over the threshold. Mr. Hanson shot a fleeting glance at me, a smile plastered on his dry lips. I had broken the schedule yet again. It was early Monday morning. Night prior, I had gone home only to find a note left by Steve saying he was out at a party and wouldn't be home until late night. Thankfully for myself, I had woken up before he did, and didn't have to face a second of his scolding for being all beaten and bruised. So, I took the book Mr. Hanson had given to me and scurried over to the small shop an hour before school started.
"Holly, you're early," he observed, taking his glasses from the top of his head and placing them on his eyes. He squinted at the book in my hands. "You've finished?"
"Yes, and I've got to say, Mr. Hanson," I approached him and leaned against the counter, "it wasn't my favorite."
He raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips. Sighing, he took the book from my care and observed the front cover, flipping it over and looking at the back.
He crossed his arms over his chest and eyed me, "I wasn't expecting it to be your favorite, Holly. One of them, perhaps. What is it you didn't like?"
I glanced up at him, an innocent smile tugging at my lips. "You've done be good, Hanson. But this one got me. I didn't like any of it, really."
"Holly, it's a masterpiece! Crafted by Shakespeare himself!" He exclaimed. I laughed at his outburst and leaned my hands against the plastic counter cover.
"I just-" I sighed, biting down on my lip, "I don't see the significance, is all. I find it overrated."
He raised his eyebrows, the corners of his lips tugging upward. "Overrated? Shakespeare? Holly, I thought of all people, you'd understand."
"I understood it," I rolled my eyes, "but it's stupid, don't you think? Is there a great big overall message I missed, or something? Because all I see is a couple kids in love," I put my fingers up, mimicking quotation marks, "and killing themselves because of some bad planning and dumb decisions."
"You're right. They were impulsive, but that's all part of the story, is it not? To show what adolescence can do when their feelings consume them, when it seems like there is no more to life than such?" Mr. Hanson paused, squinting down at the book and taking it into his hands, "this was my favorite book when I was your age, Holly. I think it thoroughly shows how strong one's feelings are, especially when they are being reviled just as Romeo and Juliet's had."
My lips parted. I thought deeply about his words. I had been stuck on the fact that Romeo had never loved Juliet, but was simply lusting. Nonetheless, lust was a feeling, and just as Mr. Hanson had explained, feeling's could control your every whim.
