and Mr. Spicer
doesn’t even say a thing
to stop me.
Canyon
Say “canyon,”
and I am at
horizon’s rim,
leaning over
a deep bowl of echoes.
I gape at the grand cavern
and call
“GABRIELLA!”
then wait
for the soft,
round sound of
ELLA!
E l l a!
e l l a!
as it returns.
Idea
“Gabriella,”
says Mr. Spicer.
“Didn’t you hear the bell?”
I come back from my travels.
“Sorry,” I whisper,
gathering my books to go.
“It’s okay,” he says.
“But before you go,
I have something to show you.
Remember this?”
He hands me the paper
he’d taken from me
earlier.
Here it comes, I’m thinking.
My punishment.
I slide down in my seat,
search for some way
to disappear.
“This was your daydream,
wasn’t it?” he asks.
I nod, my tongue too tied
to answer.
“It’s wonderfully vivid,” he says.
“In fact, it’s given me an idea.
I’ll tell you all about it,
tomorrow.
That’s it for today.
Go on home.”
I leave
on giggly knees.
Now what?
Announcement
The next morning,
I race to school,
my mind too full of questions
to wander anywhere else.
I bounce up and down in my seat
while Mr. Spicer
takes ten times forever
to call the roll.
Then, finally,
“Class,” says Mr. Spicer,
“starting tomorrow, we will
stop what we’re doing
once a day
and daydream for fifteen minutes,
then write those daydreams down.”
David looks at me,
his eyes wide as the moon.
“You’ll never know when, though,”
continues Mr. Spicer.
“So you’ll have to keep your eyes front
and pay attention.
Does that sound good?”
I swallow these words like honey,
smile at their sweetness,
and say, “Yes!”
my favorite word
of all.
Good Night
When class lets out,
I hurry home,
hungry for dinner
and hoping to find
more words with wings
to dream and write about
tomorrow.
Home
I kick my shoes off
at the door,
drop my books
on the kitchen table,
then hunt for snacks.
says Mom.
I groan, but do exactly
what she tells me.
When I get back,
she’s reading my paper!
The stupid page must’ve
slipped from my notebook.
I growl, then turn to leave
until Mom says,
“This is lovely, Gabriella.
I wish I could write like you.”
What?
I slice up Mom’s words
and nibble on them,
one at a time.
When I find my voice again,
I tell her all about
Mr. Spicer’s plan
for our class.
“Good,” she says,
smoothing my paper
like it’s something—
precious.
If this is a daydream,
I don’t want to know.
It’s Here!
Tomorrow arrives
like a miracle.
Even so, the class creeps by
slow as the night
before Christmas.
I can’t wait to open my
notebook and jot down
whatever daydream
comes to me.
I peek at David,
who shrugs in answer
to the question in my eyes:
When?
Finally, Mr. Spicer says,
“Okay. Class, workbooks shut.
It’s daydream time.”
I’m telling you,
I just about cry.
All In
Four weeks have passed
and my notebook is thick
with daydreams.
Funny how much better
I’m doing in school.
Somehow lessons don’t seem
half as boring.
I’m not perfect, but
I hear most of what
Mr. Spicer teaches these days.
Plus homework’s easier,
now that my mind’s not
always meandering.
There’s one more thing that’s new:
My mom is starting
to daydream, too.
Author
Say “Gabriella,”
and Mom sees me,
silver-tipped pen in hand,
swirling “Best Wishes”
across the front pages
of dozens of books
with my name
printed on them.
I sign hundreds
round the clock
for a line of happy fans
that stretch a city block.
And there is Mom, beaming
right beside me.
Fair Is Fair
I never told Mom
I wanted to be a writer,
but I’ll let her
keep her daydreams,
since she’s finally
letting me
keep mine.
Acknowledgments
In the creation of every book, there are always particular people to thank for their encouragement, support, and inspiration. Words with Wings is no different.
I’d like to thank editor Rebecca Davis for encouraging me to expand the original picture book manuscript into a novel. Thanks to Amy Malskeit, who read and critiqued the manuscript while balancing a newborn baby girl on her hip. (Thanks, Lucie, for lending me your mom!) Thanks to agent Elizabeth Harding. I couldn’t ask for a more enthusiastic fan.
I save my most heartfelt thanks for teacher Ed Spicer, who served as model for the teacher in my story. Ed regularly honors and nurtures the daydreamers who pass through his classroom by allowing them time to dream, and to capture their daydreams on paper. That was an inspiration to me and helped in the shaping of this story. It only seemed fitting to name my character after him. Thanks, Mr. Spicer!