IWillBeStrongerThantheFearinMyHeartNadjawalkedintohernewfifth-gradeclassroom.Everymuscleinherbodywenttense.Thewholeclasslookedupanxiouslyandstared.Nadjaadjustedherchador,theheadscarfsheworeallthetime.“Welcome,NadjaKhan!I’mMr.Michaels,”saidtheteacher.Mr.Michaelswasaskinnymanwithacompletelyshavenhead.“There’syourdesk,Nadja.Goforit.”Therewasoneemptydesknearthebackoftheroom.Theclasswatchedhertakeherseat.Mr.Michaelssaid,“NadjaandherfamilyjustmovedtoOakValleyfromLosAngeles.Let’smakeherfeelathome.”Nadjablushedandtuggedherchador.Thegirlinthenextdesksmiledather.“I’mMaya,”shewhispered.“I’mNadja,”shereplied,andblushedagain.Mr.Michaelsannounced,“Nadja,youarrivedonagreatday!We’rejustabouttostartourpoetryunit.”Whentheclassgroaned,hesaid,“Youthinkpoetryisboring?Icanproveyouwrong!”Hecrossedhisarmsoverhischest.”I’llread.Allyouhavetodoislisten.Helookedfromrowtorowandleanedforwardlikehewassharingasecret.Inacroaking,mysteriousvoicehebeganreadingastrange-soundingpoem.Whenhefinished,heasked,“Whatjusthappenedinthatpoem?”“Adudefreakedoutwhenhemetupwithamonster?”saidtheboyinfrontofNadja.Mr.Michaelslaughed.“Good,Jason.Let’stalkaboutthewaytheauthorusedrealwordsandnonsensewordstopaintuspicture.”Mr.Michaelsreadthreemorepoems.ThelastpoemwascalledNewKidontheBlock.Thenewkidontheblock…mightshoothoops,ormightdocrosswords;mightbeapainter,ormightbeasinger;mightlikedogs,ormighthavenopets;mightlikechocolate,ormightbeallergic.ThenewkidontheblockmightbeakidIjustsay“Hi”to,ormightbemynextbestfriend.HesmiledatNadjaandclosedhisbook.Heannouncedthattheclasshad10minutestogetaheadstartontheirhomeworkassignment.“Writerapoemaboutsomethingyouareafraidof,”hesaid.AsNadjastaredatherblankpaper,shefeltwordsbubblingup.Beforesheknewit,shewaswriting.Thepencilinherhandcouldhardlykeepupwithherthoughts.ThenextmorningMr.Michaelsaskedthemtotaketurnsreadingtheirpoems.Mayareadafunnypoemaboutathree-leggeddog.Jasonreadabouthisitchylongunderwear,whichhadtheclassinstitches.WhenMr.MichaelscalledonNadja,sheopenedhernotebooktotheseventhpageofthewritingshehaddonethepreviousnight.Sheread:Driving AwayThecityrisesupbehindus.Nodoorwaysgivingshelter,Noschoolyardsembracingcrowdsofkids.Onlyorangesunbathingtallbuildings.Thecitypullsmelikeamagnetpullingmetal,butournewlifepullsharder.Wedriveaway,memoriesalreadywashing,fading.Iwillbestrongerthanthefearinmyheart.Everyonewasquiet,thenstartedclapping.“Wow,”saidMr.Michaels.“Whatwonderfulimagery,Nadja.Icouldreallyseeit.That’swhatpoetryisallabout!”Aftereveryonehadreadtheirpoems,Mr.Michaelsannouncedapoetrycontestforthefourth,fifth,andsixthgrades.Thewinningpoemwouldbeprintedonthetitlepageoftheschoolyearbook.MayaslippedNadjaanote.Let’sstartwritingpoemstogetherafterschool.Myhouse.OK?Forthefirsttimeindays,Nadjafeltawidesmilegrowonherface.“OK,”shewhisperedbacktoMaya.
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