Nobody could possibly think I wrote this. It’s all one long paragraph, caps are misused, and it ends with three exclamation points. I glanced at Tommy. He wouldn’t understand that we former journalism majors have hyperactive internal editors that kick in at inappropriate times.“Maybe—” My voice sounded weak. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Maybe someone wrote a second poem about Mrs. Kravett.”He shook his head. “Know how I said that threat was the top sheet in the drawer? This was the second sheet.”Tommy pulled another piece of paper from his back seat and handed it to me. Though I recognized it instantly, I read: “Give me your homework, not your sighs,”Mrs. Kravett glares and cries.“How dare you think my class is boring?Yes, that’s right, I heard you snoring.Like with Lauren, I’ll smack your face.This class is an utter disgrace.Now shut up and stay in your seatswhile I recite this never-ending poem by Keats. You, too, would be nonstop crabbyif you looked like me, so short and flabby.
