Notes

Linda, the girl who sits next to me in history,

slips a note on my desk.

I tuck it into my notebook

and look at Stacey, who sits next to her.

She smiles, so I know her note says something good.

When Miss O’Connell turns to write on the board,

I unfold it quietly and read:

Want to do something after school?

She signed it S

with a long, loopy tail.

I could just nod at her,

but I’ve never passed notes before,

so I write back:

The drugstore!

I’ll have to ask Papa

and figure out how to get home,

but I want to sit at the soda fountain with Stacey

and eat a sundae and look around the store.

The note is too small to explain all that,

so I just sign M

with no loops or flair,

then fold it up and slip it onto Linda’s desk.

She covers it with her hand and passes it to Stacey,

who coughs and opens it.

“I’ll take that, Miss LaVoie,” Miss O’Connell says,

holding out her hand at the front of the room.

Stacey hands it to her,

then goes back to her desk without looking at me.

Miss O’Connell puts down her chalk and opens the note.

“It’s too bad,” she says, “that instead

of sitting at the soda fountain this afternoon,

you’ll be in my classroom.”

I’ve never had detention before

and my neck prickles.

Now Stacey looks at me with a big-eye face

like she’s pretending to be scared,

but I wonder if her heart is pounding

as hard as mine.