Ms. Coco Is Loco! Read Online Free

the world!
    The next morning, while the other kids were hanging around the school store, I went to Ms. Coco’s room. She was looking in a mirror and putting stuff on her face.
    â€œI wrote a new poem last night,” I told her. “Will you read it?”
    â€œOf course!” she said excitedly.
    I handed her the poem. Ha-ha-ha! My troubles would soon be over. Ms. Coco would probably kick me out of the gifted and talented program. Maybe with a little luck, I’d even get kicked out of school. Then I really could sit around and do nothing all day!
    Ms. Coco finished reading the poem. She looked at me.

    â€œI love it,” she said.
    â€œHuh?”
    Then she started singing that “Feelings” song again.
    â€œThis is exactly what I was hoping for!” she said when she finished singing. “A.J., you’re finally letting your trueinner feelings come out. You’re expressing yourself.”
    â€œB-b-b-but—”
    â€œIt’s genius !”
    Then she started crying and singing and hugging me again.
    Man, what was I supposed to do? No matter what I wrote, Ms. Coco loved it.
    My life was over.

8
Why Dead People Are Lucky
    At lunch I was sitting in the vomitorium with Ryan and Michael and Neil the nude kid. The school lunch was spaghetti and meatballs, which was disgusting and probably poisoned. Ms. LaGrange, the lunch lady, was selling homemade French cupcakes, but I couldn’t buy onebecause I didn’t have any extra money. Bummer in the summer!
    No way was I going to tell the guys what Ms. Coco said about my poems. They would probably make me sit with Andrea and her annoying nerd friends.
    Speaking of which, Andrea must have been burning through her encyclopedia, because at the table next to us, she was showing off all the new things she’d learned.
    â€œDid you know that hummingbirds are the smallest birds?” Andrea told her friends. “And they’re the only birds that can fly backward. Did you know that a parrot will die if it eats chocolate?”
    Ugh. It was horrible. The girls were hanging on to Andrea’s every word like she was queen of the world. Me and the guys stuffed napkins in our ears to block out the sound.
    â€œHow many poems are we up to?” asked Ryan.
    â€œSix hundred and something,” said Michael.
    â€œMan, National Poetry Month stinks,” Ryan said.
    â€œThere’s only one thing worse thanNational Poetry Month,” said Michael.

    â€œTV Turn-off Week,” we all agreed.
    â€œI hate writing poems,” said Neil the nude kid. “I just can’t do it.”
    I kept my mouth shut. Writing poems came easily to me. In fact, I wrote a poem right there in my brain, but I didn’t tell the guys. It went like this:
    Â 
    Dirt bikes are fun.
    Dirt bikes are cool.
    I’d rather ride dirt bikes
    Than go to school.
    â€œIf we reach a thousand poems,” said Neil, “Mr. Klutz is gonna bring in a famous poet.”
    â€œHe should bring in a famous skateboarder instead,” I said. “That would be way cooler.”
    â€œMaybe Mr. Klutz will bring in Dr. Seuss,” said Michael. “He’s a poet.”
    â€œHe’s also dead, dumbhead,” said Ryan.
    â€œDead people are lucky,” I said. “They don’t have to celebrate National Poetry Month.”
    â€œInstead of sending criminals to jail, they should force them to write poems,” said Neil the nude kid. “Writing poems stinks.”
    â€œYeah,” we all agreed.
    Then we made a list of things we would rather do than write poetry:
Jump off Mount Everest
Eat a live spider (Ryan’s idea)
Hit our thumbs with a hammer
Eat razor blades for breakfast (also Ryan’s idea)
Listen to our parents’ old CDs
Go to school
Dress up like a girl
Kiss a girl
    Ugh! It was getting too disgusting. I could barely eat my lunch.
    Ryan, Michael, and Neil kept complainingabout how hard it was to write poems and