When I Dream, I Dream Of Him.

We're In English Class, Which For Most Of Us Is An Excruciating Exercise In Staying Awake Through The Great Classics Of Literature. These Works - Groundbreaking, Incendiary, Timeless - Have Been Pureed By The Curriculum Monsters Into A Digestible Pabulum Of Themes And Factoids We Can Spew Back On A Test. Scoring Well On Tests Is The Sort Of Happy Thing That Gets The School District The Greenbacks They Crave. Understanding And Appreciating The Material Are Secondary.

Beggin' Your Pardon, Miss, But I Was Told You Be The One To Help Me Cross On To The Next World." "who Told You This?" His Eyes Widen. "a Fearsome Creature With A Head Full Of Snakes!" "you Musn't Fear Her," I Say, Taking The Man's Hand And Leading His Toward The River. "she's As Tame As A Pussycat. She'd Probably Lick Your Hand Given The Chance." "didn't Seem Harmless," He Whispers, Shuddering. "yes, Well, Things Are Not Always As They Appear, Sir, And We Must Learn To Judge For Ourselves.

Will You Punish Me Forever?

It's Only His Thumb Brushing Slowly Across The Lower Edge Of My Lip, But It's As If Time Slows And The Sweep Of That Thumb Below My Mouth Takes Forever. It Is No Spell That I Know Of, But It Holds Such Magic, I Can Scarcely Breath. He Pulls His Hand Away Fast, Aware Of What He's Done. But His Touch Lingers.

What Makes A Girl A Girl? What Makes A Guy A Guy? Do You Have To Be What They Want You To Be? Or Do You Stop And Listen To That Voice Inside You? I Know Who I Am. I'm Petra West. And I'm A Girl. You Want Me To Sleep Somewhere Else, Fine. Whatever. But I'm Not Going To Pretend To Be Somebody I'm Not. I've Done Enough Of That.