Read I Rize for Free Online Page B

darker side of poetry. The poems were kept private from everyone. This was the first time he heard about any poem she wrote.
    In those last moments of class as Miss Nora spoke about trigonometric functions, my physical body was present—my mind wasn’t. I pulled out my pen and paper, and once my pen hit the paper, my hands could not stop moving.
    My pen was the guide, my betrayal the inspiration.
    Those darn pictures were stuck in my mind, and I forgot the poem under the freaking desk. Before I went to second period, I went back and saw Miss Nora with my poem in her hands. I was so scared because I didn’t want anyone else to read it. I hope I didn’t freak her out. I thought she would call my parents and tell them how crazy I was. She didn’t. I was surprised when she asked if I wanted to perform in the annual spring poetry slam. Can you believe that?
    Me, talking in front of a bunch of people who hate me, like that would ever happen.
    “You were always secretive about your writings. Wish I could have seen more.”
    But sometimes I feel like poetry is my only escape from this evil world.
    Just a pen and paper.
    No one to judge me.
    No one to betray me.
    Just a pen and paper.
    I think I love first period for different reasons than you. From a poetic point of view, Miss Nora’s classroom is my Garden of Eden. Everything is so perfect and peaceful during those fifty minutes that I am in her class each day.
    Then the stupid bell has to ring and ruin everything.
    That annoying, ringing bell taints my ears from evil lurking the halls. The ringing of the bell tempts me to take one step out for the next class.
    And when I do, all hell breaks loose.
    Junior found the copy of the poem Miss Nora gave him. The second time he read it, he could feel each emotion from each word as if she were writing it in front of him. He had no idea where all her anger originated from until he saw the video.
    Junior switched off the lights, allowing the darkness to consume the chaos that rummaged throughout his mind. The poem was held in his hands while muttering half asleep. A light knock at the door disrupted his nearly calm state of mind. Michelle peeked into the dark room, but when no sound was heard, the door was closed again quietly.

THREE
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 5 TH
    M ICHELLE STOOD silently in the kitchen while cooking everyone breakfast before work. Darla and Junior quickly ate and left for school. Terri lazily dragged her feet down the stairs with her pajamas still on. The stench from Terri’s strong morning breath filtered throughout the entire kitchen space as she yawned widely as if she were still tired. Terri walked into the kitchen, denying Michelle's presence.
    “Terri, you forgot how to greet people in the morning, I see.”
    Terri stood at the counter drinking orange juice, not saying a word. Michelle watched Terri’s eyes dart everywhere except in her direction. The pictures found the night before continued to form a deep divide between them. Answers were needed.
    She watched Terri sit down and constantly eyeball the scrambled eggs on the stove. When the toast popped up ready, Terri jumped up like a hungry dog ready to eat. A weird look was shot in Terri’s direction, forcing her back into the chair. The tension between them became a series of awkward interactions. The sound of Terri’s stomach growling could be heard by anyone within a few feet away as she finally gave in and mumbled, “Good morning.”
    Michelle slid the picture of Adny face down in front of Terri’s view. “That is not my daughter, damn it.”
    Terri turned it over and slightly laughed while sipping her orange juice.
    “It’s funny, Terri?”
    “Yeah, Michelle, this picture is old and funny to me.”
    The veins in the side of Michelle’s face became prominent. A mix of frustration and anger was obvious when she responded, “So, it’s funny to you that my daughter almost killed herself and is fighting to survive each day on her own? Fill me in because I