Nose pinched against
The faint smell
Of failure and fear
Largely invisible
To a world where my existence
Was still mostly irrelevant.
Take a guess which
Possibility
Came true.
CLASSMATE
David eats his lunch with me
Thank God
Because I'm not sure anyone else
Would be game.
Samir watches warily
But when I catch him staring
He grins
A sly, slow grin.
As the rest of the school
Stumbles around us
Mind-numbed by sugar
And factoids
And desperation
Crawling, clawing
Creeping upward or sliding downward
On the popularity scale.
David eats his lunch with me
Even though he must know
That in my company
The only way is down.
GIRLS
Sarah
Who I called “Puffy Blond”
But only to myself
Whose mom drove me to the hospital
On Christmas Day
And listened when I defended Samir
From a terrible accusation
Sarah, who is probably a nice person
Under it all
Sarah
Ignores me.
Genie
Who was Sarah's best friend
Before she defaced a painting
With unforgivable slurs
And blamed Samir
She is a vengeful manipulator
Not to be trusted
Genie
Has amassed a new entourage.
Sarah and Genie
Have divvied up our year
Into two lip-glossed militias
Hair-sprayed armies
Who occupy the halls
In a fragile cold war
And they all blame me.
Me
Who eschews the politics
Of girlhood
I tiptoe around them
Avoiding their minefields
And roadside bombs
I'm a pacifist
And a bit of a coward
I
Would rather not take sides.
ESSAY DRILL
It's the usual waste of time
The usual crime of taking teenage brains
And putting them in chains
We should be in our creative prime
Instead we're dwindling and unwinding
Grinding our ideas into fine dust
Letting them rust in five neat piles
With encouraging smiles
You keep telling us we must
Think of college, sink all our knowledge
Into this one stupid essay,
S-A
S-A-T
, are you satisfied?
Half my classmates have anxiety
Or are stupefied by pharmaceuticals
Or destined for cubicles
It is often said that our struggles teach us the most
Discuss.
If this were true, half the kids here
Would be geniuses
Because in this bubble they struggle
With every trouble the other kids have
Only double
Can't read, can't write
Can't avoid a fight
And then there are kids who can't walk
Or talk
Can't dress themselves, not even a sock
Kids who drink, who can't think
Forget about swimming; with them
It's sink or sink.
PERSPECTIVE
I know it's wrong
To think of Marika this way
Ms. Sagal's silent daughter
Her odd contorted posture
Frail, unpredictable arms.
I know the photo I took of her
Last year,
Disabled
Was supposed to be ironic.
Because one word
Could never sum her up.
Her laugh is infectious
Her silence is mesmerizing
Her art blows my mind.
Wild swirls and fractured words
Like Basquiat.
The other girls look at her
With mournful eyes
And patronizing smiles.
She smiles back
The multitudes of Marika
But once, I'm pretty sure
She winked at me.
Sometimes I think
I should have her problems
Her “struggles”
Could teach me a thing or two.
DAD
Dad asks me
Predictably
How was your first day?
One-syllable answers
Should be enough.
Fine, I say
Chill
Dull.
The multi-syllables
Terrifying
Solitary
Meaningless
Discouraging
Soul destroying
No different
From last year.
A hotbed of
Temptation
Irritation
Oppression
Subjugation
Perplexity
And despair
I keep to myself.
RAIN
Wet snow turns to rain
Melts the white icing away
Revealing gray roads.
This spring, so unlike
The frayed-edge coastal seasons,
Is bold, harsh and quick.
I never thought it
Possible that I'd ever
Grow to love winter.
But spring here explodes
With gleeful celebration
Green, fresh and fertile.
RELIEF
Speaking of fertility
My body gives me a break for once.
My period started,
I whisper to Samir
Before art class.
Alhamdulillah,
he replies
Eyes turned upward
And we both laugh at the irony.
What's so funny?
David says
Trailing into class after us.
Your haircut
, Samir says.
I frown at him
But David just shakes his head
Fake laughing.
Hilarious, Sam
, he says
You should have a
TV
show
.
And Samir flips him off
Then makes a game
Of picking invisible bugs
From my hair
As an excuse to touch me
Until David says
Why don't you get some manners?
And Samir says
Why don't you get a personality?
And I say
Why don't you both
Just get your dicks out
And measure them?
Only I say it so loud
The whole class hears.
And Genie says
Are you planning another artwork?
Penises this time?
And Ms. Sagal frowns
Before gently reminding us
The phallus is a popular theme
In modern art
But for now
Let's keep it
PG.
INK
Ink
Black lines
The shape of
David's hand
Strong
And open
Like a bed
I could curl into
His fingers
Soft
And safe
His hand stained
With black
Ink.
PROCRASTINATION
The truth is
Samir and I
Have gone through that box of condoms
Since the incident on the stairs
And I'm still no closer
To altering David's friendship
Into something more.
The truth is
I'm
Afraid
Of
Losing
Him.
The truth is
When I say
“Losing him”
I'm not sure
Which “him”
I mean.
The truth is
Part of me
Wants to run away
From both of them
Before they can
Hurt me again.
The truth is
In the dark
Of my room
Their outlined hands
Pinned to my wall
Look like claws.
The truth is
What I say
About not wanting
To be normal
Is not actually
The truth.
SPRING FLING
Kayli twirls
In the vintage pink chiffon dress
It's a twirlish dress
, she says
Tugging at the high neck.
Don't twirl too much, I say
Or the boys will see your underwear.
You'd know
, Kayli quips
And twirls so fast
The dress flies up
And gives me an eyeful
Of plain white cotton panties.
Like them?
She asks, pursing her lips.
I picked them in his honor.
She's referring to her Mormon date.
A solemn fourteen-year-old
Who waits upstairs with David.
You need a better bra
She says, eyeing my insufficient chest
In the green V-necked bodice.
Try this one.
I slip the dress down
And hook the new bra in place
While Kayli manhandles my boobs
Like uncooperative children.
Turn
, she commands
And the two ripe, round
Creamy buns spilling from the dress
Nearly blind me.
That
, my baby sister says
Is why they call it WonderBra.
EYE CONTACT
Poor David
He really tries
To look me in the eyes
Go ahead
Take a good look, it's okay
Let's just get it out of the way.
Wow
, he says to my cleavage
Blushing red as a stop sign
You look divine
.
His smile
Sheepish, disarming
Is utterly charming.
DOUBLE DATE
Kayli's date, Parker
Is only allowed “group dates”
And invited me and David along
As a peace offering
After all the fuss last year.
In a quiet moment
While David hangs our coats
And Kayli powders her nose
Parker fidgets and sighs
And finally says,
Sorry
.
Not your fault, I say
Thirteen years old
What were you supposed to do
With a picture like that?
Really, it's David's fault.
You're Catholic, right?
Is that why you forgave him?
David returns from the coat check
Looking splendidly rakish.
One of the reasons, I say.
DAVID
He's one of those handsome boys
Who lurks in the shadow
Of a more handsome brother
Skates across the ice
After a better sniper
Struggles through classes
That his brother aced.
He's one of those sweet boys
You would think
Had a new girl each week
But as he confessed to me
Has had no girls at all
Ever.
He's one of those happy boys
Whose laughter hides
A darker side
A deeper struggle
A brain that buzzes
A heart that longs
For praise he never gets.
He's one of those lost boys
Just waiting
To be found
I guess that's how
He ended up
With me.
SLOW DANCING
Eyes turn
And whispers hiss
David and ELLA?
My head rests
Cheek to his chest
Ella and DAVID?
His fingers tiptoe
Around my hip
David and ME.
LITTLE BLACK DRESSES
Genie and her clique
Corner me in the ladies room
Like crows converging on carrion.
Pretty dress
,
Ella
, Genie says
But what on EARTH is your sister wearing?
Her friends cackle on cue.
It's vintage, I say, but your dresses are lovely.
Was it one respectable dress
That you cut into three?
They giggle, like I've just complimented them
For showing so much skin
And their legs, backs and boobs slink out.
Leaving me, heart galloping
My fingers curled around the sink
So tight it hurts.
FIRST KISS
Have you seen Kayli?
I ask David
Worried now that Genie will
Go after her too.
I'm feeling
The gloss wearing off
The sparkle dimming
The champagne bubbles popping
On Spring Fling.
Now I just
Want to
Go
Home.
We find Kayli and Parker
By the fountain
Her pressed against
A Grecian column.
The hem of the pink dress
Is bunched in Parker's fist
On her thigh.
Are you all right?
David asks her.
My sister.
My fourteen-year-old
Baby
Sister.
She grins
Lipstick smeared
Starry-eyed.
I'm great,
She says
And you?
DRIVEWAY
We drop off Parker first
OUT
, David says
As Kayli's goodnight kiss
Gets slightly out of hand.
Later, Kayli runs barefoot
Up our driveway
I see her barreling down the hall
As the front door swings closed.
She'll be calling all her girlfriends,
I tell David, to give them a report.
What about you
? he asks
Will you be reporting to your girlfriends
?
I could say, “What girlfriends?”
Or “What's to report?”
But instead I look at my knees
While David loosens his tie.
TRANSITION
Did you have fun?
Yes. Did you?
Yes. Would you like to go out with me again?
We go out together all the time.
We saw
Cats
last week.
Right. Singing cats.
That was brilliant.
Better than that so-called hockey game.
No, no, that was wrestling.
Ice wrestling?
Yes. That's a thing now.
Didn't you know?
You're cute when you snort.