Hello, I am still here in the states. I miss everyone. I am in school. I am supposed to be writing the sentences on the board. I finished it, so I thought I would write to you. It is cold here. I am still upset I could not stay......."
My letter was rudely interrupted by a large siren...another fire drill? Have I moved to a town infested by pyromaniacs? I close my books and walk over to the coat rack. Someone grabs my ankle.
"POPPI! GET UNDER THE DESK!" screams Katie.
"I'M GOING OUTSIDE...I REFUSE TO BE BURNED ALIVE LIKE A WIDOW COMITTING SUTTI!!"
"IT'S NOT A FIRE," Katie yells, "DUCK AND COVER! THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING!"
"WE SHOULD RUN! IF WE STAY, WE WILL BE HELD HOSTAGE!" I scream back at her.
The next thing I knew, I was grabbed from behind.
"I TOLD YOU WE SHOULD RUN, THEY'VE GOT ME KATIE! CALL THE ICELANDIC CONSUL!"
Then I am thrown under the desk.
"What the hell?" I say to myself. It's Chuck, he's the one who threw me under the desk. I guess the KGB is now using twelve year olds to do their dirty work.
"STAY THERE, POPPI!" he yells at me and then hides under his desk. Some hostage taker he's turned out to be. He'll be executed for this. Serves him right for being a grade school spy. He's got to be the world's worst secret agent. God my ribs hurt.
I crawl out from under my desk and over to Chuck's. He sees me and he smiles.
"I SAVED YOU, ICELAND! YOU OWE ME!" he yells, then he leans towards me and tries to kiss me. Yuck.
"SAVE THIS, MORON!" I scream and punch him right in that nasty boy mouth full of BOY GERMS! Gross, I have boy slime on my hand, I'll probably have to have it amputated. I crawl away and head over to the sink to wash my hands.
"This is it.. I quit school, this is ridiculous, crawling around on the floor, boy slime all over me, noisy sirens. I've had enough."
I stand up and walk over t0 the sink. Kids are waving from under their desks as I walk past, some are yelling at me to come back, don't go, it could be dangerous.
I just finished washing my hands when the siren stopped. My ears are ringing. I reach for a scratchy brown paper towel.
"Poppi, why are you at the sink? You were supposed to be under your desk for the duck and cover drill." the teacher asks.
"I had boy germs on my hand," I replied.
"Please return to your desk, we will discuss this after school" says Mrs. Brown.
I have a note to deliver to my Dad. It has to be signed, so I can't just throw it away. Basically it says I refused to stay under the desk during the drill, some one ratted me out for punching Chuck. I have "behaviour" problems. What about Chuck's behaviour??
Daddy reads the note. He shakes his head, writes something, signs it and folds it up.
"Now the rest of the story, Draumsoley." he says calmly.
"The Russians are coming, they have sirens going off in the schools and they make you stay under the desk. I thought it was a fire drill, Chuck threw me under the desk and hurt my ribs and then he tried to kiss me, so I punched him and I got saliva on my hand. You know Daddy, human mouths have so many more germs than a dog or a cat. I didn't want to get an infection, I already have a cut on my hand and his germy mouth got slime all over it. So, once I figured out it wasn't an invasion, I got up to wash my hand, the siren stopped and Mrs. Brown saw me at the sink and got mad. I had to stay late. I had to walk home in the dark all by my self and it hurts when I breathe. My ribs are broken. I don't think I have a punctured lung because both sides of my chest go up and down when I breathe. Look I have a bone sticking up." I pull my shirt up to show Dad the bumpy bone sticking out of my lower left ribcage."
"What the hell!" he yells. "I'm taking you to hospital, don't move!"
As Daddy went to get our coats and explain the situation to my mother, I read the reply my Dad wrote on Mrs. Brown's note.
"My daughter maybe a brat at times, but she is not prone to fighting due to her small stature. She must have acted in self defense. As for hiding under desks during an air raid, she should have been told ahead of time what to expect. I do not see the point in hiding under desks, it will not protect anyone from nuclear fall out. Their flimsy construction would not protect any one if the building collapsed."
Beneath the note was an equation proving that the force of the buidling collapsing would crush the desks into toothpicks.
"In the event of a nuclear attack, I would prefer my daughter be incinerated instantly, instead of dying a slow painful death from radiation poisoning or crushed under a desk."
I put the note down and laughed. I love my Daddy, he is so smart!