Jessy's always early to English. This morning I am too, looking up from her seat, my arms folded. "I know you took my poem." She stops in front of me, avoiding my gaze. "I'm sorry, okay? I need to be on Carla's good side. I'm not like you. You don't need her. She knows it." I shake my head, but I can't find it in myself to be angry about the poem because I know what it feels like to want approval. "Carla's going to turn on you again if you don't give her enough to shit on people." "I think I gave her enough." she says softly. I move...