Katelyn sat down in English class and ignored the judgmental looks of a few students around her. She’d been gone for two weeks, held in Gorman’s office on lock down. He apparently had had enough of his guest and put her back in classes just in time for semester exams.
Class began and Teacher Woman droned through the test instructions while passing out materials. She failed to pass out enough for her row, so Katelyn had to raise her hand and ask for another copy. “Thank you so much,” Katelyn used the same fake polite voice she’d become accustomed to using with Gorman, but Teacher Woman actually seemed to lose her edge when she saw Katelyn wasn’t going to give her trouble.
“Hmm,” Katelyn let out in amazement. I’ll have to try this more often.
“And I’ll be handing back your poems after the test begins. Some are quite original and their authors should consider submitting them to the poetry contest.” Teacher Woman droned on until she realized most students had already completed the first page of the test. Their impatient turn of the page whipped through the air.
Katelyn turned to her booklet. She should be able to do well on this test. She read the play. There was not much else to do in Gorman’s office after she finished her work. Other than the thou’s, thee’s and other language she’d never heard of, she understood where Romeo and Juliet were at—their fear, their hope.
Twenty minutes later, the test loomed in front of her, throwing some fastballs at her. Tragedy structure? Dramatic irony? Allusion? Why did school have to ruin a good story by testing stupid stuff? She wondered.
Teacher Woman had been walking around the classroom sliding papers face down on student’s desks. When she came to Katelyn’s desk, Katelyn couldn’t help be a little surprised. She didn’t always get things back like most kids because she didn’t always hand things in.
Teacher Woman placed first the journal and then a paper face down on the corner of her desk. Katelyn knew she should keep working on the test, but couldn’t resist seeing what she earned on the assignments. Somehow, she always held out hope that she’d be good at something at school. Plus, she’d worked hard on this assignment, the poem.
Katelyn waited until Teacher Woman walked down another isle and then she picked up her poem. She turned it over and her eyes widened at the A-minus at the top of the page. A couple of grammar corrections were noted, but the comments under the grade brought even more awe. “Nice work. Your poem reflects the innocent passion of young love. Adding the required couplet would make this assignment complete.”
Katelyn looked around. She saw that Melissa, her desk neighbor, had already looked at hers and put it down on her pile of books on the floor. It was face up. “B+” stood out on the top of her paper. Melissa was slouched over her test, absentmindedly pushing her pencil’s eraser into the depression of her chin while she read a question.
Katelyn knew she should get back to the test, but she decided to reread her poem.
Good Night
By Katelyn Wells
By day the promise hides
Charting its shape in light’s shadow.
The sun, burning with a parent’s force, steals the shine of stars.
Only at night,
Desire driven by need’s own orbit,
Will a pulsing pattern perfect itself and intersect another.
Together they reflect their secrets like questions:
Are you brighter than me?
Do you know me?
What shape do we take together?
Do you love me?
Will you stay?
And each night, after day’s distance,
Across the laced sky, they burn toward each other again.