The Passed Note Issue 1 June 2016 - Page 59

just pulling the pieces

back together

book by book.

I don’t say anything,

don’t know what to say,

just reach and stack,

reach and stack

until the floor is clean.

Then, when I finally stand up,

my eyes spot these red patches

swarming her face and neck.

I hand her one last pile.

“Thank you,” she whispers.

I nod

then grab my book

and take off to class.

I jog down the hall,

haul up two flights of stairs,

dart around the corner,

slip into the room

all the way down the end

on the left,

and land quietly

in my seat in the last row.

Teacher sees me.

I’m in trouble now.

She heads my way.

“Hey, Connor,” she says,

“it’s nice to see you

looking so happy

today."

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