Fiction: Class

By Karen Crawford


it’s all the rage, and that’s what you feel when Little Miss Luna, the new kid teacher, points a stubby brown finger at you, late, always late, 

and you don’t say a word as you pass Mrs. Green writing on the blackboard I will not…, I will not…, or Mr. White, a thick piece of masking tape across his chalky thin lips, or Mr. Orange, a fresh stamp of ruler marks across his meaty red hands–

because you know Little Miss Luna doesn’t want any excuses; like how Mrs. Green burns books, so no one questions the trash that Mr. White spews, or how Mr. Orange practices division and multiplication while he runs for class president, or how you stay up all night polishing your guns so the old guard, stays new–

because you know, you know, what Little Miss Luna really wants is an excuse to have you all expelled, while she dares to learn to live another underprivileged day.

Karen Crawford lives and writes in the City of Angels. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and was included in Wigleaf's Top 50 Longlist 2023. Her work has appeared in Maudlin House, Spry Literary Magazine, Emerge Literary Journal, Cheap Pop, Bending Genres, and elsewhere. You can find her on X @KarenCrawford_ and BlueSky