That's what this feels like: Frank's the Wizard of Oz, I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas, and Shirley's the Wicked Witch of the West. All day long, Shirley's wedding ring has been burning a hole in my pocket. When I got to school this morning, I thought about putting it in my locker, but what if some stupid kid called in a bomb scare like Donald Caruso did last week when he didn't study for his math test? We all knew it was him because while everyone was standing outside waiting for the all-clear bell to ring, it began to rain and Donna Rizzo started screaming at Donald, “Now look what you've done. This sweater is ruined. Ruined!” And then she stomped off with Donald trotting behind her. Anyway the point is we get bomb scares at least once a week and the fire department has to come and search the entire building, including our lockers, and what would happen if I got caught? That would not be pretty. God, this day is taking forever. I can't pay attention to anything my teachers are saying because all I want to do is get out of here and see the expression on Frank's face when I give him Shirley's ring.
