Q&A: How does this story sound to you?

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Question by ❤♰ The sweet sound of my blood♰❤: How does this story sound to you? It's called three little birds. The title has reference to the the ending. Hanna was sitting in art class, sketching doodles in her sketch book. The classroom was empty, but she had access to the art studio. Mr. Oakley gave her extra permission to use the art studio since she needed extra time on her portfolio if she wanted to get accepted to a real good art school. Her best friends were waiting for her in the library, but she didn’t care. It was a daily routine to be late catching up with them. They didn’t seem to mind. She glanced at the clock in the front of the room and closed her book. She was about to head toward the exit, when she turned around to see Mr. Oakley standing behind her. She jumped and caught her breath. “I’m sorry, Hanna. Didn’t want to disturb you with your work. You seem to be doing a excellent sketch.” He ran his fingers through his jet black hair and smiled. Hanna smiled and headed toward the door. He gently grabbed her arm. “Do you mind if you stay a bit? I need some help with something in the back.” Hanna blushed and sat her bag on top of the table. She stared at his bright blue eyes and nodded. He looked like he was a student here at AHS. She followed him toward the back of the room, where he kept all the chemicals and paint and clay. It was another room, much crowded then the classroom. Hanna followed him, and flicked on the lights. “I can’t stay long. I have to meet my friends in the library. It’s our study period.” Hanna said, shyly. She was always comfortable being around Mr. Oakley, but sometimes she wasn’t. Today she wasn’t. “It’s fine. Can you help me carry this to the classroom?” He picked up a box of paper towels and paintbrushes. Hanna nodded and passed him. She picked up the box. It was really heavy and made her legs wobble. He saw that she was struggling and offered to help her. He grabbed her waist, and the sudden physical contact made her fall on the cold floor, spilling all the contents in the box. Mr. Oakley chuckled and kneeled down to help her. She was wearing a skirt that reached passed her knees. It had raised a bit, showing her purple panties. “Let me help you.” Mr. Oakley said. Hanna shook her head and pulled down her skirt. Mr. Oakley smiled and grabbed her wrist firmly. She yanked away. She felt foolish not to let him help her, but something felt off. He ran his fingers against her thighs where the fabric of her skirt didn’t cover. “Mr. Oakley, I’m fine.” She said. He ignored her and continued to invade her privacy. She sat there, dumfounded. What was he doing? She watched his hands move over her chest and grasp her breasts. The bell ringed, making Mr. Oakley jump. “I guess I’ll clean this up. You better get to class.” Hanna wiped her eyes and struggled to her feet. She felt like she was a piece of ice, being melted under a lamp. “Hanna,” He called after her. “It was an mistake. Please, don’t tell anyone.” She nodded and darted out of the classroom, her heart pounding in her chest. Best answer:

Answer by bookish
"...a real good art school"? "The bell ringed"? "..passed her knees"? You don't even have basic writing skills. Work on that before you start trying to write a story. And don't even try to tell me that this doesn't matter. In writing, it matters a lot.

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