Jaeger jumped back, nearly knocking over Mrs. Whimbrel. She caught herself on the desk behind her. Once steady, she turned and glared at both boys.
"Sit down, now," she ordered.
P. Martin shivered. More than her shrill voice or beady, probing eyes chilling him was that warped blade of a nose capable of knifing through any defense he might offer. This was not going to be a good week.
Jaeger, feigning an injured arm, failed to notice just how close Mrs. Whimbrel stood. As soon as he opened his mouth, she sniped, "Clamp it!" Jaeger sat down.
"Guess she ruffled your feathers," Kestrel snickered.
"Silence," she snapped and headed to the board like a fast moving cloud. "Chevron?" she asked.
P. Martin did not need to open his dictionary. You'd have to be a troglodyte not to know, he thought, given her idea of musical chairs.
Welcome to MarMooWorks Story Line, where I encourage you to become a Muse of MarMooWorks. Each week, I will begin a story, using one sentence, and I invite you, the readers, to add to the story. Be on the lookout for fun and unusual words, images, and literary devices. Be sure to keep in mind that once a character has been introduced, he/she/it remains in the story and has a purpose.
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