It was Monday, meaning that we had to go to school. Scout wasn't a big fan of school, and has stated that it's only saving grace is her teacher, and Dill. I really didn't hate it, but I could see where she was coming from, since I was in that stage at one point.
We all ate our breakfast, and we waited for Julie, who was coming down, clearly not liking her dress; she was tugging at it, and looked like she was about to burn it, which kind of made me laugh.
"Julie, over here!" I called.
Julie sped up toward us, and said her good mornings, and we began our trek.
"So you're in my grade, huh?" I asked.
"That's right." Julie answered.
"Julie, are you tomboy?" Scout asked.
"I wouldn't say tomboy, just independent." Julie answered.
"I guess not having a home will do that to you." Dill stated, sadly.
"Pretty much." Julie responded, brightly.
"Do you think people will know?" I asked.
"If they do, whatever."
"Nothing much fazes you, does it?" Dill asked.
"Only my self-awareness." Julie answered, honestly.
I was wondering what she meant by that, but I decided to drop it.

We eventually arrived at the school, and we went to our separate classrooms. The teacher I had isn't really worth mentioning, I never bothered getting to know him, but he was one of the few teachers who knew what he was doing.
"Sir, this is Julie, she is going to be in our class from now on." I said.
"Alright," He looked at Julie, and told her where to sit. "There is a seat right next to Jem's just sit there."
"Yes sir," Julie said, clearly cringing at being respectful. "God, he better not try to control me."
"That's only the elementary school." I responded. "Scout can tell you all about that hell."
"I'll bet."
The teacher came up, and wrote down Poetry in big letters.
"Alright class, who can you tell me what poetry is?" He asked.
I raised my hand, and he responded, "Go ahead, Jeremy."
"Poetry is a form of literature that uses aesthetics and rhythmic qualities, they are usually referred to as poems." I explained.
"Correct," The teacher wrote down the word poem, and gave us our instructions. "Now, I explained to you what rhyme scheme, allusion, etc., so I want you to write a poem that has at least 4 or more stanzas, they have to a rhyme scheme, and at least one allusion to something. I'll be taking them up before Thanksgiving break, so that gives you a week."
Julie raised her hand, and asked, "Does it have to be in a specific style?"
"What did you have in mind, Julie?" He asked.
"Well, I was thinking of writing in the form of pantoum, it's a Malaysian style of poetry." Julie answered.
I was impressed that she already had one in mind; I was still trying to think of one.
"Go ahead…" He gave her permission, and she started writing. She was the first one to finish, and she turned it in.
"Very good," The teacher complemented. "Would you like to read it out loud?"
"Sure." Julie grabbed her paper, and stand in front of the entire classroom.
"Hi, my name is Julie, and I going to read my poem, don't make a crack or you'll live to regret it…" Julie said, monotone.
Julie really knew how to sound threatening; I think a few of the male students started sweating.
Julie cleared her throat, and began reading her poem.

"I'm going to like it here.
There is something about the place,
An encouraging atmosphere,
Like a smile on a friendly face.

There is something about the place,
So caressing and warm it is.
Like a smile on a friendly face,
Like a port in a storm it is.

So caressing and warm it is.
All the people are so sincere.
Like a port in a storm it is.
I am going to like it here.

All the people are so sincere.
There's especially one I like.
I am going to like it here.
It's the father's first son I like.

There's especially one I like.
There is something about his face.
It's the father's first son I like.
He's the reason I love the place.

There is something about his face.
I would follow him anywhere.
If he goes to another place,
I am going to like it there."

Everyone, including me, was left speechless on how good it was, but I was more so speechless because I knew what she was talking about more than anyone. Julie went back to her seat, and she just smirked at me, and I started noticing how beautiful she was, and I started getting ideas.
"How was it?" She asked.
"It was great."
"Thank you, Jem."
"Did you come up with that?" I asked.
"Yeah, but somehow almost all the poems end up being lyrics to a song in the future." Julie stated.
"Great minds think alike." I commented.
Julie blushed, but I pretended that I didn't notice. "So, what's your idea, Jem?" Julie asked.
"I'm slowly piecing it together, it will probably be done by next Friday, but I'm not going to read it out loud like you did."
"You shy?"
"I don't want people laughing at me." I answered, blushing.
Julie giggled lightly, and I couldn't help but notice how soft it was, it really made me attracted to her more, and before I knew it, my poem popped up in my head, but we were released for lunch, so I didn't have a chance to write it, but I didn't worry too much, as it wasn't about to leave my head.
When I think back now, she was right with how her poems later became lyrics for song, but it wasn't going to be for another 20 years until this got turned into a song. I guess this world really does have 'A Hundred Million Miracles.'