flooded his whole system with too much blood; it rushed past his ears with a whooshing noise that made it hard to hear. "You think it's good?" he asked.
"You have a talent," she said, tapping the page. "A rare talent." She shook her head. "I didn't know you like poetry."
"I didn't either," he said. "But I do." Evan couldn't believe he'd just said that out loud. He'd actually admitted to liking poetry.
Next thing you know, I'll start saying that I like Megan Moriarty out loud!
His ears pinked up at the thought.
There was a crash followed by a thud from upstairs, then Jessie yelled down, "I'm okay. I just tripped."
Evan and his mom laughed. Jessie was kind of like Old Faithful, that geyser at Yellowstone Park that Evan had studied in third grade. She could be counted on to blow every few hours.
"I've got a picture frame you can have," said Mrs. Treski, handing the poem back to Evan. "You could copy the poem over and frame it and then give it as a Valentine's gift to Grandma. I bet she'd really like it."
Evan thought of his poem on display for everyone to see.
Everyone.
It made him feel both proud and nervous, both excited and a little sick to his stomach. "Maybe," he said.
Evan walked upstairs slowly, looking down at the poem in his hand. It didn't feel so bad admitting he liked poetry. Maybe he'd show one or two of his poems to Mrs. Overton. Maybe he'd even show one of them to his friends. Not this one. A different one. Maybe. But he would never, ever admit that he liked Megan. He'd rather die than have his friends know that.
He walked into his room, but before he even had a chance to close the door behind him, he noticed that some of the trash from his wastebasket was spilled onto the floor.
Chapter 10
Snooping
snooping (v.) investigating or searching in a secretive way to uncover private information
Â
It had been an accident. Really and truly. The only reason Jessie had gone into Evan's room in the first place was that she'd needed a piece of paper. That's all. She wasn't looking for anything else. She wasn't snooping. She
wasn't.
And even though she wasn't supposed to go in Evan's room without asking, and she definitely wasn't allowed to look in his top desk drawer without permission, she was in a big hurry to count up the results of the survey. And Evan was
all
the way downstairs. And he'd been in such a bad mood when they'd walked in the front door together. And she was in a big hurry. That was the thing. She didn't have time to follow
all
the rules.
But when she grabbed a piece of paper out of Evan's desk drawer and turned to run back out the doorâso fast it was as if she hadn't even broken the rule in the first placeâshe tripped over Evan's wastebasket, which crashed into the floor lamp, and the papers spilled all over the floor. They were like little animals escaping from their cage. The wastebasket was made of wire, just like a cage, and Jessie couldn't help imagining the papers shouting, "Free! We're free! At last, we're free!"
"I'm okay! I just tripped!" she shouted so that Evan and their mother wouldn't come running upstairs to see what the noise was.
She started to scoop up the crumpled-up pieces of paper, still thinking about the animals escaping from their cage, and then one of them really did look like a turtle.
Look at that,
she thought. There was the shell and a leg and a head poking out. Jessie was good at noticing patterns and shapes, and this crumpled-up piece of paper definitely looked like a turtle.
She picked up the piece of paper, tugged on the head, and then pushed on it to see if she could imitate the way a turtle pokes its head out of its shell and then pulls it in when it's threatened. And that's when the paper became uncrumpled and she saw a few of the words on the page.
Words were meant to be read. Everyone knew that! You didn't write a word down on a piece of paper if you didn't expect someone to read it. Otherwise you would just leave that word in your head.
So
"You have a talent," she said, tapping the page. "A rare talent." She shook her head. "I didn't know you like poetry."
"I didn't either," he said. "But I do." Evan couldn't believe he'd just said that out loud. He'd actually admitted to liking poetry.
Next thing you know, I'll start saying that I like Megan Moriarty out loud!
His ears pinked up at the thought.
There was a crash followed by a thud from upstairs, then Jessie yelled down, "I'm okay. I just tripped."
Evan and his mom laughed. Jessie was kind of like Old Faithful, that geyser at Yellowstone Park that Evan had studied in third grade. She could be counted on to blow every few hours.
"I've got a picture frame you can have," said Mrs. Treski, handing the poem back to Evan. "You could copy the poem over and frame it and then give it as a Valentine's gift to Grandma. I bet she'd really like it."
Evan thought of his poem on display for everyone to see.
Everyone.
It made him feel both proud and nervous, both excited and a little sick to his stomach. "Maybe," he said.
Evan walked upstairs slowly, looking down at the poem in his hand. It didn't feel so bad admitting he liked poetry. Maybe he'd show one or two of his poems to Mrs. Overton. Maybe he'd even show one of them to his friends. Not this one. A different one. Maybe. But he would never, ever admit that he liked Megan. He'd rather die than have his friends know that.
He walked into his room, but before he even had a chance to close the door behind him, he noticed that some of the trash from his wastebasket was spilled onto the floor.
Chapter 10
Snooping
snooping (v.) investigating or searching in a secretive way to uncover private information
Â
It had been an accident. Really and truly. The only reason Jessie had gone into Evan's room in the first place was that she'd needed a piece of paper. That's all. She wasn't looking for anything else. She wasn't snooping. She
wasn't.
And even though she wasn't supposed to go in Evan's room without asking, and she definitely wasn't allowed to look in his top desk drawer without permission, she was in a big hurry to count up the results of the survey. And Evan was
all
the way downstairs. And he'd been in such a bad mood when they'd walked in the front door together. And she was in a big hurry. That was the thing. She didn't have time to follow
all
the rules.
But when she grabbed a piece of paper out of Evan's desk drawer and turned to run back out the doorâso fast it was as if she hadn't even broken the rule in the first placeâshe tripped over Evan's wastebasket, which crashed into the floor lamp, and the papers spilled all over the floor. They were like little animals escaping from their cage. The wastebasket was made of wire, just like a cage, and Jessie couldn't help imagining the papers shouting, "Free! We're free! At last, we're free!"
"I'm okay! I just tripped!" she shouted so that Evan and their mother wouldn't come running upstairs to see what the noise was.
She started to scoop up the crumpled-up pieces of paper, still thinking about the animals escaping from their cage, and then one of them really did look like a turtle.
Look at that,
she thought. There was the shell and a leg and a head poking out. Jessie was good at noticing patterns and shapes, and this crumpled-up piece of paper definitely looked like a turtle.
She picked up the piece of paper, tugged on the head, and then pushed on it to see if she could imitate the way a turtle pokes its head out of its shell and then pulls it in when it's threatened. And that's when the paper became uncrumpled and she saw a few of the words on the page.
Words were meant to be read. Everyone knew that! You didn't write a word down on a piece of paper if you didn't expect someone to read it. Otherwise you would just leave that word in your head.
So
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