1. House Arrest
by K.A. Holt

2. House Arrest by K.A. Holt
Timothy is on probation. It’s a strange word—something that happens to other kids, to delinquents, not to kids like him. And yet, he is under house arrest for the next year. He must check in weekly with a probation officer and a therapist, and keep a journal for an entire year. And mostly, he has to stay out of trouble. But when he must take drastic measures to help his struggling family, staying out of trouble proves more difficult than Timothy ever thought it would be. By turns touching and funny, and always original, House Arrest is a middlegrade novel in verse about one boy’s path to redemption as he navigates life with a sick brother, a grieving mother, and one tough probation officer. (kaholt.com)

5. We were laughing so hard,
so hard that no sound was coming out.
Me and Mom
laughing and laughing
because the birthday candle wouldn’t stand up
in the pile of vanilla yogurt
in the blue bowl
on Levi’s tray.
It would pitch one way
and then the other
and Mom would scream and laugh
as she tried to get it upright
and not burn her fingers.
I thought Levi was laughing, too,
at first,
maybe trying to blow out the candle
with puffs of air from his nec.
But he wasn’t laughing or puffing,
he was choking.
We were laughing,
not noticing
until he turned blue
and Mom swore
yanking him from his high chair
throwing him on the couch
ripping the emergency trach from where we leave it
taped to the wall.
I held him down,
she swapped out the trachs,
suctioned and suctioned and suctioned
gave him oxygen puffs from the big tank
until his eyes cleared
his smile woke up
his little hands signed more more more.
And that is the story of Levi’s first birthday.
I think, actually, it is kind of perfect.

6. We need more help.
The words slip out between my teeth
like mud dripping from fingers.
Slow. Uncontrolled.
drip
plop
splat
Mrs. B looks up.
She’s trying not to look surprised
but her forehead gives her away.
One line between her eyes
for each word out of my mouth.
She puts down her pen.
Her eyes hold my eyes
like two tractor beams.
What kind of help?
Her voice is very quiet
like maybe I’m a squirrel
and she’s trying to feed me an acorn
from the palm of her hand.
Come closer, little squirrel.
Closer.
We need a nurse every day, I say.
Every day and every night.
Mrs. B nods. She writes something down.
She looks up.
Good job, little squirrel.
Good job.
Mrs. B puts her other hand on my hand.
I don’t pull it away.
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7. Extension In what line do you see a shift in the mood of the poem?
When the author uses the words, “drip plop splat,” what is she referring to?
Why does the author compare the narrator to a squirrel?
What is a strong action verb that contributes to the poem’s imagery?