Lissa and I had been friends ever since kindergarten, when our teacher had paired us up together for writing lessons. Forcing five-year-olds to spell Vasilisa Dragomir and Rosemarie Hathaway was beyond cruel, and we’d—or rather, I’d—responded appropriately. I’d chucked my book at out teacher and called her a fascist bastard. I hadn’t known what those words meant, but I’d known how to hit a moving target.
Dimitri: I’m not in love with Rose. That’s absurd! She’s my student. Besides, I’m in a relationship with *looks at smudged writing on hand* Tango Organic
Anonymous asked: 
