Entry 26: Phoebe Cheats
I find it a bit fishy for someone with no interest in a certain activity to be better than anyone else at it.
Mr. Special was announcing that not only were we assigned another poem, but the author of the best poem would be awarded a statue of a famous poet.
After hearing Pheebs was falling behind in being number one, as far as winning contests in the class went, she decided to give it all she had to win that. By give it all she had, I mean find the best book of poems already written.
I went home that night as frustrated with myself as I was disappointed for not being able to think of something to write about. Words flow naturally from me. I'm all about expressing myself with my purple pen and a few blank sheets of paper. What was blocking my train of thought?
I fell against my bed as a pile of papers fell across my face. As I opened my eyes, I was reminded of the inspiration behind my work. The reason I have for even possessing a passionate side. Yeah, I've always been sensitive. There's a reason my feelings are taken to an ardent level however.
A loving smile formed on my face as I looked to see my beloved's picture had fallen onto me. The tender feelings I have for him began flowing so smoothly from my lips
Cowlicks, like fields of yellow corn.
All the days of my week, I write the name I dare not speak.
The boy with the corn flowered hair.
My beloved, and my despair
Of course, I could never let anyone other than Simmons know who wrote it. Thank goodness for that!
The next day, after he read one Pheebs had apparently copied out of a book, he decided mine just HAD to be read aloud. Ummm….if it was that good, where's my trophy?
Pheebs accepted her award, but apparently things didn't sit right with her. When Wartz told Simmons about needing a way to entertain everyone at an assembly being thrown that week, what do you think Simmons way of gaining the crowds interest would be?
"You could start by reading a poem!"
No need to ask permission from the author first Mr. Special! Pttss...what a nutjob.
I found it suspicious enough that Pheebs had written such a great poem, when she's never said a word about enjoying the activity (let alone seen one from her).
My skepticism must not have been too absurd when I heard her reading MY poem at the assembly. I don't care if I signed it anonymous. That should have been enough to imply I didn't like the idea of having it read allowed AT ALL! Sheesh!
Had I not fainted (and been sitting three rows behind him), maybe I would have seen the smile on Arnold's face during the reading of it. Perhaps it would have encouraged me to say something to him; tell him those words can't even come close to comparing how much I love and care for him.
Nah...I may be brave, but I'm not crazy.
