and take a step toward
the front door.
That’s as far as I get.
Daddy’s hand clamps
around my wrist. Wait
just a minute. Do you
remember last night?
Now my teeth grind
uncomfortably. What
about last night, exactly,
does he want to discuss?
“Uh, sure, Daddy.”
All right, then. No rides
with any Brittanys,
okay? I want you all
in one piece. He doesn’t
say just what for.
So of Course
Who comes chugging up
as I wait for the bus
but the very Brittany
in question. Wanna ride?
She’s alone in the car,
an explanation at the ready.
The guys got in trouble
for being late yesterday.
Well, so did I, but I don’t
want to talk about it. “Ah.”
Get in. My mom bought me
all new tires, so you’re safe.
Not really, but I don’t want
to say that, either. “Um…”
You’re not scared, are you?
She almost looks hurt.
I glance around, see no sign
of Daddy. “Oh, why not?”
Cool. Let’s go. Don’t want
to be late two days in a row!
No, we most definitely
don’t want that.
We Actually Arrive
Ten minutes early. And I have
to admit even Brittany’s nonstop
chatter wasn’t as bad as listening
to freshmen guys talk about zits.
I can’t believe I actually defied
Daddy in such an overt manner.
But it feels good. Even better,
in fact, than missing the zit talk.
At least as long as I don’t get
caught. That probably wouldn’t
feel too great. So far so good,
though you never know where
his spies might be hiding. No
use worrying about them now.
Brittany parks. A bit crooked,
but what else could I expect?
She giggles. Even new tires
can’t help my peripheral vision.
I’m supposed to wear glasses,
but they make me look ugly.
Oh, wonderful. I can just see
the news: Judge’s daughter
killed in accident with not-ugly
half-blind friend at the wheel.
I File That Away
Thank Brittany for the ride,
head toward the human knots
clogging the locker breezeways.
Pre-first-bell yells. Catcalls.
Laughter. A few tears.
Nothing out of the ordinary.
But just as I reach my own
locker, a loud guffaw makes
me turn to search for its source.
It’s Shaun, apparently the chief
of a small tribe of geeks. When
I draw my glare even with his eyes,
he turns his back to me, lowers
his voice, and says something
to his not-so-braves that makes
them all laugh out loud.
Something inside me snaps,
almost audibly. I slam
my locker, take dead aim at
the geeklets’ chieftain. Straight
up in his face, “Something funny?”
His eyes dart back and forth
among his stick figure friends.
But no one comes to the rescue.
Uh. No. Not really. Then he tries
to draw strength from numbers.
We were just talking about girls
and what they do for attention.
He pulls himself up as tall as he
possibly can. What do you do?
If his buddies think about
laughing, the look on my face
must make them think twice.
Ice-cold anger pulses in my veins.
I can feel it in my temples. And
something else, too. Something
brand-new. “Anything I do is no
business of yours, you little shit.
But if you want my attention,
here it is.” That something new—
courage—brings my palms flat
against his shoulders. Hard.
Hard Enough
To make him stumble backward,
bump his head against a post.
I’ll probably get in real trouble
for this, but at the moment I couldn’t
care less. “Enough attention?”
This time his friends do laugh.
Shaun’s face turns the color
of strawberry jam. What the fuck
is your problem? Not my fault
you’re a trashy little skank.
Suddenly a hand is at my elbow
and a voice falls into my ear.
C’mon. This is beneath you. Ian!
He turns on his brother. You shut
your mouth and keep it that way.
Ian puts his arm around my
shoulder, guides me away from
the dissolving drama. Dueling
emotions take aim inside me.
Relief. Hurt. Happiness. Fury.
We turn a corner and at the far
end of the building, few eyes
to see, Ian pulls me into his chest.
My eyes sting and my legs go weak
and I let myself gather his strength.
The first bell rings and I start
to pull away, but his arms grip
tighter. Tell me what happened.
He looks down into my tear-
blurred eyes, and next thing
I know we’re kissing. Really,
truly kissing, like it’s from the heart
and we really mean it and there’s no
one else, never will be. Finally I have
to come up for air. “I love you.”
It Just Slipped
Out of my mouth, and the strange
thing is, I really mean it. But still,
I feel all jumbled up inside,
like someone put my brain in
a blender, turned it to “crush.”
Ian’s eyes tell me he feels the same
way. I love you, too, you know I do.
But you always have me walking
on eggshells. Oh, if you would just
let me love you the way I want to…
Fire. Ice. Honey. Salt. Eiderdown.
Iron. Every fiber of me twitches
confusion. I love him, and he loves
me. So, then, “Why did you tell
your brother that I sleep around?”
He draws back, but only a little,
only enough to look deep into
my eyes, show me the sudden
anger in his. I never said any such
thing. Did he tell you I told him that?
“He said he heard you say I’m
into other guys. Why would
you say that? And who did you
say it to?” Before he can craft
an answer, the second bell rings.
Saved by the Bell
The hallways
flood with bodies,
faces, voices, hustling
here and there. Locked
together, despite the inner
wedge, Ian and I draw a few
stares. Definitely not the right
time to continue such an intense
conversation. Can we talk about it
later? asks Ian, knowing I have little
choice but to respond positively. He walks
me to class, right arm protectively around my
waist. Despite smarting at the wound of his careless
words, I decide I like how I feel, joined to him in such
an overt way. Especially when we turn the corner and
come face-to-face
with Madison
and, just over
there, Shaun.
I’m Generally Not Big
On smirking. But noticing
how the smiles drop from both
Shaun’s and Madison’s faces,
I can’t seem to
help
it. Booyah! Major smirk.
It gets better. Madison is no
more than two feet away
when Ian bends down to kiss
me
good-bye. I so totally let him,
even though a very, very big
part of me needs him to give
me a plausible explanation so
I
can get beyond his brother’s
knife-edged words. “Talk to
you later,” I say as he walks
past Madison. I can’t help but
think
she’s responsible, and I’m not
sure what to do about it if Ian’s
story involves her. Ian. All
thoughts of Madison evaporate.
I’m in love.
And I like how that feels.
And I hate how that feels.
Because love is an invention
of fiction writers.
Raeanne
Glad I’ve Got History Today
I need a major dose of Lawler
to keep my mind off other
things. I wish I could
help
Kaeleigh work her way past
all the major crap so she could
accept the good things waiting
for her, almost within reach. Ask
me,
she doesn’t need someone
like Madison to mess things up
for her. She sabotages herself.
C’est la vie. It is life. Her life.
I
suppose I myself am something
of a self-saboteur, in a constant
search for “more.” More drugs.
More men. More sex. Do you
think
there’s really such a thing as
“enough”? The rhetoric draws
a heartfelt sigh, and Mr. Lawler
turns. Smiles. Oh yeah, I think
I’m in love.
I Swear His Smile
Means more than “How’s it going?”
Not that I’m a smile expert or
anything, but something about
that one sure reads “Damn, you
look fine.” Even correctly
interpreted, though, it doesn’t
necessarily mean, “Let’s sneak
on outta here and do the dirty.”
Whatever it means, as he passes
out Monday’s graded pop quizzes,
he bends just enough for me to make
out the thick ropes of muscles
beneath his trousers. Abductors.
Hamstrings. Gluteus. Mm-hmm.
Oh yeah, I remember human
anatomy. Especially his.
Committed to memory. He works
his way down the aisle, and now
his cologne settles around me,
a soft, masculine cloud. When
he reaches my desk, he leans
slightly forward, and I notice
the not-too-massive, totally
hot patch of blondish hair
peeking out of the open
buttons just below his collar.
His eyes smile. Great job,
Ms. Gardella. If only everyone
in here cared about history
the way you do. He holds
out my quiz, a big red A+
at the top. When I reach for
it, our hands touch. Definite
fireworks, and I’m 90
percent sure it’s mutual.
I try to say thanks, but
my voice feels like a wad
of gum in my throat and it
comes out all hoarse and weird,
“Th…nksss.” That makes me
snort a little laugh. “Sorry.
Not sure what’s in there…”
I leave the rest hanging.
And he so totally gets it.
Am I Sick or What?
I mean, how many guys do I need on the line?
I haven’t seen Mick in several days, but he left
a voice message on my cell: Are you mad
at me or what? Call me. You’ll like what I’ve got.
I assume he’s talking weed. It’s been a couple
of days and the truth is, I’m so wanting a buzz.
I could call Ty, ask for a bit steeper high (low?).
Oh yeah, how low can we go? Loaded question.
But even without those two on my “available”
list, why would I even consider Mr. Lawler?
He’s not only “mature,” but a frigging teacher.
Cute teacher, sure, but that’s not the point.
The point is: Why do I think he’d consider me?
It’s a Game, That’s All
And I’m good at games,
and betting Lawler is good
at them too. I watch him
lecture, trying to reach these
dimwads who couldn’t care
less about why yesterday
influences today, thus creates
tomorrow. He’s so sincere,
so well-learned (so disgustingly
cute), and I seem to be the only
one who even bothers to notice.
More power to me, I guess.
And power, after all, is what
I’m after. At last, the bell
rings and once everyone leaves,
I decide to up the ante a little.
(Okay, a lot.) I corner Mr. Lawler.
“Excuse me. I’ve got some
questions about the term paper.
Could we possibly get together
to discuss the direction I’m taking?”
Cat and Mouse
That’s the name of this game,
old as the Garden of Eden.
I lead. “I’d appreciate your
advice. Maybe after school?
His eyes flash interest.
After school? Why not now?
I shrug. “Have a lunch date.”
He smiles. I see. Well…
“Please? I’ll buy you a cup
of coffee.” I lock his eyes.
He does not look away. I can
give you some time, I guess.
Ka-ching! Damn, he is fine.
Where should we meet up?
“How ’bout the library in town?
I’ll be doing some research.”
Sounds like a plan. Maybe
around four o’clock?
“Perfect.” He so totally is.
And he so totally knows it.
I Really Do
Have a lunch date. I haven’t
seen Mick since the scene
with the cop. Can’t believe
I miss him, but I do. He’s not
the brightest guy out there,
for sure. But he knows how
to show a girl a good time.
Truth is, more than missing
Mick, I miss catching a lunchtime
buzz. I wish I could just
buy a personal stash, keep it
around. But no way do I dare
take that kind of a chance. Not
sure who would kill me first
(or worst)—Daddy or Mom.
Not to say I won’t taunt fate
just a little. Or maybe a lot.
I refuse to smoke in transit.
That cop probably looks for
the Avalanche.
And me. So
after Mick and I rendezvous,
we will take a little spin to
the Gardella residence, which,
hopefully, will be vacant.
While I Might Taunt Fate
I will not taunt Madison, who
seems ever more determined
to interfere in my life. Not to
mention Kaeleigh’s life, like she
needs any more drama! I couldn’t
help but notice her with Ian
this morning. If she could be
like that with him more often,
they both just might find a big
scoop of happiness with each
other. But that won’t happen
if Madison has her way. Guess
she thinks fucking with Kaeleigh
is fucking with me. And she’s right.
Anyway, I’m not in the mood
for her stupidity, so instead of
Mick picking me up at school,
I told him to pick me up at
El Rancho. The market has
served the fine folks here in
the valley since before I was
born. Glad to know some things
have staying power. In my
admittedly limited realm
of existence, El Rancho has
outlasted every relationship
I’ve ever had. Then again, in my
realm relationships are meaningless.
I Hoof It North
A hundred or so yards, pause
before crossing the highway.
And who should happen to go
screaming past but my unique
(if meaningless) relationship, Ty.
Taillights flash red and brakes
squeal displeasure. Guess he saw
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