Room 221 is becoming a bastion for the awkward creative types in my school, between Dr. C’s seniors and my freshmen. The sweet quiet ones with creative talents have become our groupies. We’ve so far got a jaded poet,a pop-soul piano player, a cartoonist, and –the latest addition– a horror novelist. Ricky stopped by after school with a spiral notebook filled with a teenage horror novel in progress. It was about a guy his age, (and his girlfriend — because if it’s your book, you get the girl), and their misadventures trying to avoid science experiments gone wrong, including zombies and vampires. It was highly suspenseful and pretty adorable. Every time they came upon an obstacle, the kids used the standard teen expressions, “Dang!” and “Oh, snap!” to express their fright or frustration.

Also horrific, we came in one day to find “F— Their Birthdays” scrawled across the May calendar near where several students had penned in their birthdays. (Omission of obscenity mine.) It was so senselessly mean that it was actually kind of funny. Screw the days they were BORN.

Additionally, I think 221 is haunted. There’s one computer where the CD tray keeps popping in and out without warning when I’m in there alone.

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