Sugar - Charlie Dalton

13

The day Clara was dreading had arrived.

Mr. Keating and his original poem assignment.

His first victim was Knox, who had written his poem for Chris. Secretly, the boy had read it to Clara, wanting to know how it sounded.

She thought it was sweet, a little creepy, but sweet!

"To Chris."

"Who's Chris?"

"Mmm, Chris."

Knox, who was already unsure about his work, began to read quietly. "I see a sweetness in her smile. Blight light shines from her eyes. But life is complete; contentment is mine, just knowing that..."

Several students began to snicker around the classroom. The younger Perry frowned as she saw all of Knox's confidence drain out.

"...just knowing that she's alive. Sorry, Captain. It's stupid."

"No, no. It's not stupid. It's a good effort. It touched on one of the major themes, love. A major theme not only in poetry, but life. Mr. Hopkins, you were laughing. You're up."

Clara had to refrain from rolling her eyes as the boy strolled up to the front of the room.

"The cat sat on the mat."

The girl caught Todd's eye who clearly shared the same thoughts on the boy.

"Congratulations, Mr. Hopkins. Yours is the first poem to ever have a negative score on the Pritchard scale." The class erupted into laughter, Clara joining in quickly. "We're not laughing at you, we're laughing near you. I don't mind that your poem had a simple theme. Sometimes the most beautiful poetry can be about simple things, like a cat, or a flower or rain. You see, poetry can come from anything with the stuff of revelation in it. Just don't let your poems be ordinary. Now, who's next?"

As Mr. Keating slowly approached Todd, Clara shot her hand up in the air. "I'll go Captain." She thought that would buy her friend some time.

"Very well Miss Perry. But Mr. Anderson, don't think I don't see you sitting there in agony."

The boy said nothing as he watched Clare move to the front of the room.

"Okay, uhm...my poem is about love as well. For no one in particular;

I see you in every corner
I see you in every painting
In every book and star
You fill my head in every way
You're all around, but so far away
If I were to reach out and touch
I'm afraid you'd turn to dust
So, I'd rather have you in every corner
Every painting
Every store
Then mourn the image you once were."

Clara took a breath and sat down shakily.

"Good Miss Perry. A nice use of rhymes." Mr. Keating smiled, putting the girl at ease. "Now come on, Todd, step up. Let's put you out of your misery."

"I, I didn't do it. I didn't write a poem."

"Mr. Anderson thinks that everything inside of him is worthless and embarrassing. Isn't that right, Todd? Isn't that your worst fear? Well, I think you're wrong. I think you have something inside of you that is worth a great deal."

Clara shared a look with Neil, a look of pity for the boy that was getting torn apart in front of the entire class.

"'I sound my barbaric yawp over the rooftops of the world.' W. W. Uncle Walt again. Now, for those of you who don't know, a yawp is a loud cry or yell. Now, Todd, I would like you to give us a demonstration of a barbaric 'yawp.' Come on. You can't yawp sitting down. Let's go. Come on. Up."