Authors: Carolee Dean
It was just the start.
We had to be
more cautious.
There were risks.
Stolen moments
were all
we really had.
But a moment can last
a lifetime, some have said.
His breath was like a
scorching summer wind
across my neck, my back,
my eyes, my throat.
His body moved across mine
as he sent shock waves
through the marrow of my bones.
He’d say,
I love you,
then he’d hold me tight
and tell me that I really was the one
he wanted to be with, but first he had
to break away from Darla.
I held on to that fragile hope
for days, then weeks.
But true to her word,
Darla Johnson always
found a way
to make him stay.
You were a writer
but you didn’t write a note,
leaving us all to speculate
on why you took your life.
Your father shot himself
and I know that had to
bring you down,
but was it what did you in?
Some say you had a rare disease
that infected your brain.
Did you think about death
in that burning plane?
You lived too fast, you played too hard,
you ran around, you had four wives.
But I know the real reason you took your
life, wrote about loss, and drank too much.
You shot yourself at sixty-one
because of something you lost
when you were young.
It happens to the best of us.
You never
got over
your
first love.
is standing in front of the FAB,
pointing her cane at the school principal,
then at the yellow crime-scene tape,
then back at the principal.
He’s trying to tell her something,
but she won’t let him get in a word.
I can’t figure out,
for the life of me,
what she’s doing here at my school.
She came to stay with us when Mom left,
to help take care of me, she told my father.
It was true, I guess, but she also needed
a place to stay after her third stint in rehab.
She loves her vodka. About the only thing
she and Mom have in common.
Dad finally got tired of her and bought her
a one-way ticket to an old-folks home—
in Florida.
So what in the world is she doing here
at my school, yelling at the school principal?
The bell rings and kids flood onto the quad for lunch.
Darla Johnson and the other girls from the dance team
sit at a series of picnic benches reserved for the athletes.
When I told Brianna
the first week of school
that I was supposed to eat lunch
with the Ravenettes,
she went ballistic.
“You can’t be serious,” she said,
her face turning the color of her eggplant sandwich.
“You can come too,” I said,
but I knew she’d never go anywhere near her brother
or the other jocks.
“I’ll pass,” she told me.
She was in a bad mood because
the drama teacher had told her
she didn’t need an assistant director
for the play. She tried to talk me
into boycotting the tryouts
and the performance,
but I refused.
Bri grabbed her sack lunch
and started to leave,
but then turned back around.
“By the way,
that eye shadow makes you look
like a hooker.”
I was so mad, I couldn’t see straight.
But mostly I was glad
that she refused to come with me,
because it’s hard to create a new image
when you have old friends
who keep trying to hold you back.
between Bri and me
after that.
I had dance practice
every afternoon.
Bri starting hanging
with the Goths,
and the only time I saw her
was when I came over
late on Friday to spend the night.
It took her a while
to figure out
that the person
I really came to see
was Davis.
I guess that’s when
she decided
to ruin my life.
walking across the courtyard,
with Bri following behind him.
He stops and looks up at me
as I stand
in the window.
I step back
into the darkness.
Did he see
me?
Does he know
I’m here?
Does he ever think
about that night at
the end of eighth grade
when we played Truth or Dare?
He was so shy and sweet
and I thought about him
for days afterward,
but he never called.
Then I hooked up
with Davis.
Does Elijah remember
that night,
or did he forget
about it like I forgot
about it
and everything else?
starts at 12:35.
I see
Elijah.
He carries
a slice of pizza.
Sits at a table
next to Oscar Smith,
who is in a wheelchair.
Oscar uses a small
computer to communicate,
because he can’t talk.
He can’t press the buttons
too well either, because his hands
are clenched in perpetual fists,
but he has a bright orange pencil
clutched in his hand
that he uses to press the keys.
Elijah is a student aid
in Oscar’s special ed class.
I wonder if that’s why
he eats with Oscar
or if it’s because
Elijah
doesn’t have any friends.
I know
how terrible it feels
to walk out
onto the quad
filled with a thousand
other students
and not have a
single person to sit with.
To be friendless
in a crowd
is the worst
kind
of
loneliness.
Will Jones, Davis’s best friend,
stays out on the quad
for First Lunch, then Second
Lunch, then Third.
There are certain people
security doesn’t mess with.
He walks past a freshman,
grabs the pizza right
out of his hands, and keeps
on walking.
Will devours everything
but the crust in one bite.
He uses the remaining bread
to lure the pigeons.
When one of them gets
close enough, he kicks it
just for fun.
Blood and feathers go flying.
Is that what Darla
is doing to Davis?
Luring him in,
only to destroy him?
Like she did to me.
I shudder when I remember
how I let Will
touch me,
just because I wanted
to make Davis jealous.
It was Darla’s idea
to set me up
with him for homecoming.
Too late I realized that
what happened afterward
was all part of her plan.
Thinking about predators and prey
reminds me of the day
the hawk landed by the hedge
near our front door.
I was heading out to take
a walk, but I stopped
and watched
the strong neck,
russet plumes,
deep brown eyes, and strut
of the predatory bird.
Saw feathers lying
on the ground.
Feared it might be hurt.
Heard rustling.
Saw one eye
of a small
sparrow
as it peered
out from the
shadows.
Now I know
just how it feels
to be the sparrow
in the bush.
and security is sweeping the halls.
The men in red T-shirts are out busting
balls. Telling the stragglers to get to their
classes. Making sure wanderers have
signed teacher passes. The bathrooms are
locked so you can’t even pee till you
go to the office and ask for a key. If left
unattended, the restroom’s the place where
kids go to get stoned, and at least in one case,
a child was conceived in a second-floor stall,
and twice a light fixture was used in a brawl.
There’s ranking in, dealing, and tatting. Huffing
of Axe, puking, and cutting. Foul things
happen on the bathroom floor. Crap! A red
shirt’s walking up to the door. I look to the
left and I look to the right. Nothing but tile
and no place to hide. So I sit very still, just sit
there and stare. And he walks right on by like
I’m
not
even
there.
Walks onto the H Hall
pushing Oscar Smith,
using the tray
on his wheelchair
to hold the
copies she has made.
I press my body
against the wall, but
Oscar sees me as they
head for the elevator.
No!
says the voice
coming out
of his computer.
Does something
from out of the shadows
move toward him,
or is it my imagination?
His arms and legs
begin to flail.
His head jerks
to one side
as if someone
has slapped him
and he groans.
He presses his
orange pencil
into the device
mounted on a metal bar
attached
to his chair.
The words
Get out!
come screaming
in a voice
that sounds
like it belongs
to a robot.
“What’s wrong with you,
Oscar?” the teacher asks.
“Are you hurt?”
The voice just
keeps howling,
rocking the hall
like a lowrider
with the bass
turned up too high.
Get out! Get out! Get out!
The teacher pushes
Oscar
into the elevator,
and the voice stops.
Then the strangest
thing happens.
Just as the
elevator doors
start to close,
Oscar extends his arm,
and his pencil
goes airborne.
It flies between
the doors,
causing them
to stay open
just a crack.
Did he do it on purpose?
I step out into the open
to get a better look at him.
He turns his head,
stares at me,
and there is something
in his eyes
telling me
to run.
The teacher peers
into the H Hall.
“What are you
looking at, Oscar?”
She doesn’t see me,
though I’m in plain view.
Then she picks up
the pencil
and the
doors
slide
shut
I sit there shuddering
for the longest time,
wondering why that woman
didn’t say anything.
It was like I was invisible.
I used to feel invisible all the time.
That’s why I loved the stage,
because when I heard people clapping,
I knew they could see me.
Dad said it wasn’t healthy
to need to be the center of attention
all the time.
He said I should make some
changes when I got to high school.
He was sure the cure was team sports.
“Sign up for anything,
I don’t care, as long as you join a team.”
He groaned when I came home with a
permission slip for the Ravenettes,
the dance squad that performs
at all the big games,
especially when he saw how much
money he was going to have to spend
on the outfits.
Eventually he signed it, though.
It was hard work, but I got in great shape.
Guys would
turn their heads to stare at me.
Then Davis noticed me—
He’d look at me and I’d think,
I’m here, I’m alive, I matter.
I liked the attention.
Okay, I loved it!
To be absolutely honest,
I needed it
the way some people
need heroin.
not going to English class.
Brianna is there.
Might as well skip PE, too.
And dance team practice is out.
Looks like I will spend
the whole day on the hallway.
Watching other kids,
wondering if their lives are
hopeless and screwed up like mine.
I stand to leave, but out on
the balcony I
see Darla Johnson pacing.
Is she waiting there for me?
She walks back and forth,
cocks her head, struts, preens. Looks through
the window. At me?
She’s the hawk on the sidewalk.
I’m the sparrow in the bush.
I sit back down and
instantly understand what
it feels like to know
you will soon be plucked apart
and eaten alive. Will she
leave my heart on the
sidewalk with the old, dry gum—
black spot on the quad—
or will she save it for her
dessert? I look at the clock.
My bus will soon be
leaving, but I suddenly
don’t want to go home.
My feet are glued to the floor.
I cannot leave the hallway.
and Darla kisses his cheek.
He smiles and puts