“A lion, a goat, and a bundle of grass,” said my teacher, her face like a shut gate. “A person has to ferry them across the river in a boat.”
All tagged student
“A lion, a goat, and a bundle of grass,” said my teacher, her face like a shut gate. “A person has to ferry them across the river in a boat.”
There’s a sneeze guard that separates each tutor and student.
Whoosh! The iridescent flame ascended the sleeve of my navy Nautica sweater quickly, and I realized too late that I had brushed the hot Bunsen burner.
I sit on the idling school bus, knitting a scarf and waiting for the other students to board so we can all go home, but the head that appears at the front of the bus belongs to my father, not a fellow student.
I saw the tiny bright pink pill slide from the pocket of his khaki pants and onto his seat, then drop to the floor next to his desk.
I always had to try something once. Just to see.
Charcoal sticks scuffed as he ambled, then stopped near my elbow. “You have lovely lips.” The scuffing slowed.
My first day came two weeks in. They had already shaken off their summer laze by the time I was being introduced, wearing hand-me-downs from someone else’s long time ago.
I was doing what one does at a urinal in a Slamdance Film Festival party venue bathroom when a guy ran in yelling, "Everyone out! I gotta go!"
I'm giving this girl a ride back to college and on the New Jersey Turnpike she says, "Try? THC laced with acid." In my crowd, the studiers, we just smoke grass. Here is my chance to be cool.
For two weeks, I’ve noticed a beyond-handsome soldier waiting across the street from the stop two stops before mine. I’ve been trying to determine a casual way to meet him. On this morning, he smiles at me. Who am I to argue with fate?