Mr. Bradley and I could tell they were having a hard time, so we let the girls sit down. “So girls, are you alright?” None of them spoke and kept ...overed. ‘Now I went too far,’ I thought, ‘and the girls will go back to where they were before.’. Then I saw Mary get up, apologize for covering herself, spread her arms, and spun around for all to see. I saw the other two fighting with themselves, but they both got up and copied Mary. I thanked the girls and left with the boys. Mr. Bradley told me. It can be a short poem, a stanza. A paragraph. A monologue. Whatever you want. And please wait to applaud until everyone has read. Let’s avoid any applause-o-meters.”He read a beautiful succinct little poem.The other professionals followed him, and the young writers. Some more nervous than others. Most of the writing was pretty good. Occasionally great.By the time my turn arrived, after introducing myself and telling everyone I would be attending Hunter, but not about the inside track I got. More

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