note gets slipped into my locker and I unfold it, thinking, “love letter.” The handwriting peaks like mountains and cuts in jagged daggers, plus the red ink, plus the note says, “I am going to kill you in geometry today.” I’m afraid of whoever wrote this note. I walk through the halls and faces turn black. My gym teacher stares at me and slits his throat with his thumb as I pass. The warning bell rings and the black faces scatter. What can I do? There’s nothing I can do. I go to geometry.
by Molly Laich