As Mr Russell stalked into place in front of the class, she could see that he still hadn’t recovered from the disappointment of Finn’s triumph with Principal Carson. His face was still flushed, and his eyes glittered with frustration as he glared around the room.
‘Right!’ he said. ‘The moment has arrived. It’s time for you all to read out your poems.’
Ivy slumped in her seat, wishing that she could disappear. What am I going to do? I haven’t chosen anything yet!
It was great that for the first time ever, she was actually sitting next to her own twin in class. But that wouldn’t do her much good when she got a failing grade!
Her English teacher paced back and forth in front of the room with quick, impatient steps. ‘The reason I set you this assignment is because poetry has a way of revealing things about people . . .’
Ouch. Ivy turned to glance at Penny, who was sitting two desks behind her. Their gazes met . . . and then they both looked away quickly.
‘. . . and because high school English is very different from middle school English,’ Mr Russell declared, ‘a student’s feelings are just as important as his or her intelligence now. To truly engage with the texts you will read, you must feel them in your hearts!’ He spun around on one heel. ‘So! Who will reveal themselves first?’
Uh-oh. Ivy gulped. Talk about pressure!
A nervous hush fell over the class. All around the room, students ducked down, hiding their gazes.
It looks like nobody wants to read their poems now, Ivy thought. And no wonder! No matter what poems anyone had chosen, all everyone else in class would be thinking about was hidden meanings. What is Mr Russell thinking? This is almost mean.
Ivy slouched even lower in her chair.
Mr Russell let out an impatient sigh. ‘Fine! I’ll choose randomly, then.’ He snatched the roll call list off his desk and glanced down at it. ‘Penny Taylor. You’ll go first.’
Penny gasped, clutching the anthology close to her chest. She was still wearing her long black trench coat, and her bone-white face looked almost sickly beside the black cloth now.
‘Don’t be shy, Miss Taylor.’ Mr Russell rolled his eyes. ‘It’s just reading a few lines, remember? You might as well take your place in front of the class and get it over with.’
Penny nodded weakly. But she looked glued to her chair.
This is all my fault, Ivy realised.
‘Shadows in Sunshine’ was a poem loaded with personal meaning for Penny – meaning that everyone would pick up on and gossip about at lunch, if things went wrong! And if they did . . .
Ivy’s mouth suddenly felt dry. All she’d tried to do was help Penny to be herself. Now, she feared that she had pushed too hard. If Penny became an object of ridicule because of her poem – the poem Ivy had encouraged her to choose – Ivy would never forgive herself. But what could she do?
Before she’d even made any conscious decision, she felt her hand shooting up in the air.
‘Yes, Miss Vega?’ Mr Russell sighed. ‘Do you have something you wish to contribute?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Ivy said firmly. ‘Penny was only hesitating, sir, because we were planning to read a poem together.’ She saw Penny’s eyes widen. She gave the other girl an encouraging smile. ‘Would that be OK?’
Mr Russell raised his eyebrows. ‘That sounds not only “OK”, but excellent! Why don’t you both step up to the front of the class?’
Ivy jumped up, and Penny followed, still looking nervous. As they reached the front of the class, Penny opened the textbook with trembling fingers.
‘Every other verse?’ Ivy whispered.
Penny nodded silently. As she looked down at the textbook, though, her expression smoothed. Her voice was strong as she read the first line, and real feeling sounded in her words.
‘I sit surrounded by a crowd of people,
But none of them are looking at me . . .’
She really does love this poem, Ivy realised.
Every eye in class was on them as they passed the verses back and forth. They worked surprisingly well as a team but Ivy was thrilled to notice by the end of the poem that far more eyes were on Penny than on her! She really is an amazing reader.
‘. . . and shadows in sunshine are my home.’
Penny’s voice throbbed with emotion as she finished.
Everyone in class burst into applause. Penny’s face lit up as she looked around, taking it all in. Thank you, she mouthed to Ivy.
Ivy shook her head, smiling. ‘It was all you,’ she whispered back.
‘That was absolutely captivating!’ Mr Russell leaped from his chair. All of his earlier irritation with Finn seemed to have been swept away by his excitement. ‘I’ve learnt so much about both of you from that reading!’
Uh-oh. Ivy traded a look with Penny. What is that supposed to mean? ‘You know . . .’ she began, hoping for a distraction.
But there was no stopping their English teacher now. ‘What bravery!’ he declared, as he began to pace the room. ‘The two of you chose to celebrate your differences – not something that happens often in high school! There’s far too much value given to “fitting in” here. Bravo for a pair of friends who can admire each other for exactly what makes them each unique!’
Um . . . Raising her eyebrows, Ivy glanced at Penny’s long trench coat and dyed black hair. I don’t think many people would see the differences between us right now. Maybe Mr Russell is just super-perceptive?
Luckily, the class seemed to take their cue from Mr Russell’s enthusiasm. They all applauded again as the girls walked to their desks, Penny leading the way – and Ivy beamed as she saw other students offering Penny high-fives.