Snowdays Seresnky Style

With each tick of the clock, the snow piles higher and higher. Great, typical Cleveland. I let out a heavy sigh and resume focus on my pre-writing practice after a scolding look from Ms. Serensky. I finish analyzing another poem (most likely incorrectly) and hear the sharp beep which preceeds an anouncement from Mr. Ast. Oh no, here it comes. He is definitely about to call the seniors down for a berating about the fire alarm. Instead, he actually delievers good news. "School will close early tody due to inclement weather," the room erupts and cheers, featuring a "skeerrrt" from Adam. However, one face does not mimmic our joy. Ms. Serensky's portrays a look of sheer rage as well as intense concentrtion. 'Alright, here's the plan: we will stay here until the weather clears. Please contact your parents and confirm that you may stay. I cannot risk not seeing you guys tomorrow this close to the AP test," she declares. No way. I haave to say something, "But the AP test is not for four months!" I recieve a look of scathing hostility, "Exactly." I cannot believe this.
After a few hours of the class rotating in front of the heater, that I still remain convined actually blows col air, and Osgood and Rachel conoodling for "warmth" in the corner, Ms. Sersnky's sister arrives with her daughter in order to deliver some supplies. I breifly wonder how they managed to drive in this terrible storm, but I then remmeber this is a fiction story so whatever. "This is my niece, Pammy Buchanan," our wonderful teacher proclaims. Wait, what?! I glance around at my classmates and none of them seem thown off. Huh, maybe I misheard. However, after a few minutes, the similarities prove far too close, and I have to say something. I approach the young girl and she explained in a hushed whisper that she had, in fact, time-traveled from Fitzgerald's Jazz Age. I could convy only pure shock and quickly inquire about the logistics of such an endeavor The small child appears reluctant to share but seems to lighten up when I ask if she would like to accompany us to the Gatsby movie later on. Just as she starts to tell me details, the familiar sound of the class bell fills my ears, and I regain conciousness. Whoops, guess I fell asleep. Sorry about that nonexistant pre-writing.