Lucky Charm by Annie Bryant Page B

it into her bag in a rush. She began to smooth out the crinkled edges as she waited for Ms. Rodriguez to start class.
    “Okay, class, settle down,” the teacher said. “How many of you went to the festival this weekend?”
    Avery looked around. It seemed everyone’s hands shot up in the air. Usually her hand would have been the first up, but because of what happened with Marty, she didn’t raise hers.
    “Well, I hope you all found time to work on your poems between the rides and games,” Ms. R said with a smile. Then she surveyed the room, making sure that her students had done their assignments.
    “I have a poem that I love. It’s about spring, but Iremember it made me think of the festival because of all the balloons in the park. It’s called ‘In Just’ by e. e. cummings.”
    Ms. Rodriguez walked up and down the aisles as she read the poem.
    “in Just -
    spring when the world is mud -
    luscious…”
    Avery sighed as Ms. R read the rest of the poem. That poem was okay, but what was with those old words like “ far and wee ”? They sounded so weird.
    “Over the weekend you were asked to write a poem about something you are passionate about,” Ms. Rodriguez said.
    Avery squirmed in her seat.
    There were lots of sighs heard from around the class.
    Dillon looked at Avery and rolled his eyes. Avery wanted to laugh, but she was afraid Ms. Rodriguez would see her.
    Betsy Fitzgerald raised her hand. “I’d like to share my poem with the class, Ms. R.”
    Now it was Avery’s turn to roll her eyes. A poem by Betsy . Oh, boy, this was going to be good . Avery could hardly wait.
    “Let me guess,” she whispered to Pete Wexler, who was sitting right next to her. “Betsy’s probably passionate about how she color-coded the paperclips in her desk drawer.”
    Pete squelched a laugh, which made it look and sound like a loud sneeze instead. Ms. Rodriguez glared at them both. Avery flashed her very best I’m-paying-attention-and-can’t-wait-to-hear-Betsy’s-poem smile.
    Ms. Rodriguez raised her eyebrows. Avery knew she wasskating on thin ice. She’d have to try extra hard to show fake enthusiasm for Betsy’s poetry.
    Betsy Fitzgerald stood up and went to the front of the room. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and began…“ Perseverance .”
    She paused and looked proudly around the room. Avery figured Betsy thought the title alone was impressive enough for applause.
    Avery couldn’t resist: “Perseverance? That’s what she’s passionate about?” she said out of the side of her mouth. Pete didn’t make a sound, but he began shaking all over.
    Betsy’s poem had a lot of big words and rhymed like she was reading something from Mother Goose. Now sometimes, thought Avery, Mother Goose is funny. But there was nothing funny about Betsy’s poem. It was boring with a capital B and really serious. And she read like she was on stage doing Shakespeare, pausing dramatically after every line, as if to give the class time to understand her deep ideas. Avery couldn’t help yawning and putting her head down on the desk. The poem seemed to drone on forever. It’s too bad Betsy doesn’t have a cape and a sword , thought Avery. That might improve her performance.
    By the time Betsy finished, Avery was afraid to turn around. What if everyone in the class had fallen asleep?
    “Thank you for sharing, Betsy,” Ms. Rodriguez said as she clapped loudly. Ms. R always made everyone clap after someone got up and presented. This time she probably wanted to wake everyone up, figured Avery as she joined in. Betsy walked back to her desk, nodding to her classmates.
    “Perseverance is very important. I bet we have someother inspiring pieces as well,” Ms. R said, looking around at the restless class.
    Pete Wexler raised his hand. “I wrote about pretzels.”
    “Pretzels?” Maeve asked. “I can’t believe that you’re passionate about pretzels!”
    “Yeah,” Pete said, “I am.” Unlike Betsy, he read his poem