Free The Year of Billy Miller by Kevin Henkes

nodded.
    “Who are you writing about?”
    Billy moved his hand so she could read what he’d written.
    Ms. Silver smiled broadly. “Good choice.”
    “Can I write about my dog?” Ned interrupted.
    “Remember, no pets,” replied Ms. Silver.
    “Even if it has a human name?” asked Ned. “His name’s Bob.”
    Ms. Silver tightened her lips and shook her head at Ned. Then she crouched down beside Billy so that they were at the same level.
    “Do I get a smiley face?” asked Billy. He could tell by her expression that he probably wouldn’t.
    “Maybe you could tell me more about your mom. What does she like? What makes her special?”
    “Well,” said Billy. “She is my only mom, so I thought that made her special.” He fumbled with his pencil. “Grace has two moms, and some moms, somewhere, must be dead, so that person wouldn’t have any mom.”
    “That’s true,” said Ms. Silver. “Hmm.” She coiled a loose strand of hair around one of her chopsticks. “Would you try writing a haiku for me? See what you can come up with.” She moved on to help Ned.
    Billy glanced at the posters on the bulletin board that showed the rules for writing different kinds of poems. He remembered that a haiku had three lines. The first and third lines each had five syllables and the middle line had seven. He turned to a new page in his notebook. He was still thinking about volcanoes, so he wrote:
    Mom likes volcanos
    They are hot and they explode
    Please do not fall in
    He was counting on his fingers, making sure he’d used the correct number of syllables, when Ms. Silver came back.
    “May I take a peek?” she asked.
    Billy chewed on his thumbnail while Ms. Silver read his poem.
    “Does your mom like volcanoes?” asked Ms. Silver. “I know you like volcanoes.”
    “Well . . .” said Billy. “She might .” He blinked rapidly.
    “I have an idea,” said Ms. Silver. “I think you should take your journal home tonight. You should ask your mom what she likes. You could make a list of things. The list could be your poem. Or, maybe, there’s something you and your mom do together. You could write about that.”
    “Okay,” said Billy. His eyes shifted down to his volcano drawings. He wasn’t fond of homework in general, but it seemed even worse now that it was so close to the end of the school year. His mind was already focusing on summer vacation.
    “You’ve done some fine writing today,” said Ms. Silver. “We can work again tomorrow.”
    It really is work, thought Billy sadly.
    When the dismissal bell rang, Billy noticed that most of his classmates, including Ned, were taking their journals home, too. He was glad he wasn’t the only one.

3
    Billy was in bed when he realized that he’d forgotten to work on his poem. His brain had been so full of other things, there hadn’t been room for poetry.
    When he came home from school, he and Ned had had a water fight. Then they tried to build a volcano in the garden. That led to making mud balls the size of oranges (to let dry and harden for future use). After that, Sal let them cover nearly every inch of her with mud. By that time Mama had come home. She and Papa decided that it was too hot to cook, so once Ned left and Sal and Billy were cleaned up, they went to Ruby’s Cupboard for dinner as a very special, almost-the-end-of-the-school-year treat.
    Being at Ruby’s Cupboard reminded Billy of the time he’d tried to stay up all night. So, for the rest of the evening he was preoccupied with the idea of attempting it again, with Ned, as soon as summer vacation started. Poetry had been far from his mind, as remote as some unknown distant planet.
    But now he couldn’t force the thought of it away. He slipped out of bed, grabbed his poetry journal and a pencil, and went downstairs to look for Mama.
    Mama was in the living room lying on the couch with her eyes shut. A paperback book, cracked open, was resting on her stomach like a little tent.

    Billy didn’t have to