It’s English class and we have to write a story. As I look around the class, some people

can’t take their pencils off of their pages. (I wish I knew what there idea was.) Some people are

looking around the class, like me, and then there are the “chatters”. I call them the “chatters”

because they can never seem to stop talking to one another. Then I saw it. Beside the two girls

that were passing notes, there he was. Little Timothy Tucker, with his finger stuffed up his

nose. The expression on his face was so happy, it looked like a smile that you would give your

parents on Christmas day. My mouth dropped open, nearly hitting the floor, my nose wrinkled

up, and I glared at Timothy in horror. It probably looked like I just saw a ghost.




He just sat there, sticking his finger up his nose, digging it out after a minute or two, and

then licking the slimy blob off of his long, filthy fingernail. After I witnessed that, three words

that popped into my head, were disgusting, revolting, and immature. I stared at him in shock, as

if I had just witnessed a crime. The weirdest thing about Timothy’s little scavenger hunt in his

nose, was the fact that out of all of the people in the class, I was the only one who saw those

jaw-dropping scenes. Doesn’t he know that the boogers are in his nose, so that they can try to

exit your body? I guess not. This English class, is the class before lunch, and one thing that I

know for certain, is that I am not eating lunch today.




We got exactly fifty minutes to write a story, then Mrs. Adams will take it in to mark.

Ten minutes, I spent looking at everyone in my class and how they were spending their story-

writing time. For the past five minutes, however, I have been staring at Timothy. I don’t think

that he has noticed my stop-picking-your-nose-because-it’s-really-creeping-me-out look yet.

So, that means that I still have thirty five minutes and twenty seven seconds left to write a story

about anything I want. It shouldn’t be that hard to write a story, I have a really good mark right

now in English class, but today I just can’t write a thing. The only thing that I managed to write

down in fifteen minutes, was gross. That’s it. Just one word. Maybe if I am lucky I will get a two

out of ten, at the most.




I thought that I better start writing something, so that I can at least aim for a two, which

means one more sentence, but then I saw the other grossest thing that I have seen all day. Now,

I feel like I have witnessed a crime. After Timothy picked the largest, the slimiest, and the

longest booger out of his nose, he looked at it, decided not to eat it, and flung it across the room.

Guess where the two-centimeter-long ball of nasty landed. It now sat there, clinging on to Mrs.

Adams’s sweater. This wasn’t any old sweater though, this was her new, white cashmere sweater

that she got on her vacation to Paris. I sat there motionless, with my hands wrapped around my

mouth like the wrapping paper on a birthday present. My eyes glanced left and right, but no one

had seen anything, and Mrs. Adams didn’t feel anything either.




I whispered to my best friend, Angela. “Psssssss ” Angela flew around in her seat and

glared at me. “Sara, you know that we can’t be talking, and I have to finish writing my story.

What is it?” I turned towards Mrs. Adams, and pointed at the green booger, that looked to big to

be an actual booger. Angela gasped in horror. But it seemed that everyone had seen me pointing

to Mrs. Adams’s sweater because the whole class inspected at her back. Within a matter of

seconds, everyone began to laugh. It was uncontrollable. Even I started laughing, and as I did,

she turned around with a what-in-the-world-is-so-funny kind of look. We continued to laugh.

She gave up on finding what the joke was, and went back to her seat. Class was almost over

anyway, so I handed her in my two-word story and left for lunch.




“I really hope that someone tells her that she has a gigantic booger on her back, before

she goes to that parent teacher meeting with Sam’s parents.” Angela said.

“Me too, I have to tell her the truth.” I told Angela. After lunch, which I did not eat, I snuck

away from my friends, and snuck down the hallway to Room 129, Mrs. Adams’s class. I peered

in through her window, but it was too late. There, in her class, sat the Greenon’s. (a.k.a. Sam’s

parents)I watched Mrs. Adams for a minute, hoping that she wouldn’t turn around. But, as

always, my prayers were not answered, and she turned around. It seemed as if the booger had

gotton larger, by the looks on the Greenon’s faces after they saw it, they probably have never

seen a booger that large in their life either. Sam’s mom, stood up, snatched her purse, and pulled

on Sam’s dad to go with her. But, it didn’t look like he needed much help because right after her,

he stood up and they both rushed for the door. They pulled the door open so hard that a gasp of

air went flying into Mrs. Adams classroom.




I looked at Mrs. Adams. Little tears were trickling down her rosey cheeks and she

looked as if she were in pain. I closed my eyes, though about it, and walked into the classroom.

She quickly wiped her tears from her face. “Oh Sara, did you leave something behind?”

“No.” I admitted. “I just wanted to tell you that well I saw something that I think you should

know.” Her visage was confused and I could tell that she had no idea what I was trying to say.

“During class, Timothy put a booger on your back. Which is why Sam’s parents dashed out of

your classroom. They saw it on your back, and.” I was rambling. “I’m sorry. I should have told

you sooner, I just

didn’t know how to say it. I am really sorry.” Little tears now started to flow down my face, and

I looked straight down at the floor. “It’s ok Sara, thank you very much for telling me. Next class

I will talk to the class about manners.” I looked up at her, nodded, and walked to the door.

I turned around and glanced at her, as I did she smiled. I did too.




I felt so bad for her, she is such a courteous teacher, and I am glad that I told her. I

walked out of the class and glanced at her from the corner of the window, she

wiped the booger off her sweater, but didn’t put it in the garbage. Oh no. She got the tissue and

wiped it across Timothy’s desk. Now there was a huge slimy streak across his desk. I guess

Timothy got what he deserved. I laughed. She did too.