Clear Cut
Page 2
the grands
come
down from Danforth or
up from Portland.
She knows they
all stay
until Saturday.
She knows they
fight, fight, fight,
fight, fight.
I ask Liv
how Cooper
is doing.
Even though
I already know.
Because his SUV
was back
in the driveway
on Saturday.
She blushes and
can’t stop smiling,
so I know
I’m right.
I ask,
“How long
has this been
going on?”
She says,
“He just came over
to watch
some movies.
We’re not,
like,
dating!”
IN SCHOOL ON FRIDAY
When I ask
about
hanging out,
Liv tells me
she’s sorry, but
she has plans
with Cooper.
It’s
a
date!
And I want
to be happy
for her.
I really do.
But I’m really
not.
WHEN I SAYHANGING OUT
I’m talking about
a project
we’ve been
working on.
Not a school project.
Sort of
a “neighborhood watch” project.
A lot of our
“neighborhood”
is a forest.
This forest is (mostly)
pine trees.
They run
right to
the ocean.
We
(“we” being Mainers
in general,
and
people who live
in our development
especially)
are proud of our trees.
So proud
that we have
laws against
chopping
them
down.
Even if
you don’t get an
ocean view
unless
you do
chop them
down.
Turns out,
laws don’t stop
some people.
TWICE NOW
a new house
was built,
and before
it was built,
the plots were cleared.
It’s so weird
to walk
to the water
down the same path
you took
only a week before,
and where trees
had stood tall,
to find nothing
at all.
No, worse than nothing.
Stumps.
Sawdust.
Dead trees
stacked
like firewood.
Which is probably
what they’ll become.
TRAIL CAM
Liv and I
were angry.
We wanted to know
who was doing this.
My dad said it’s
rich people from Away
who don’t have
respect for Maine.
I borrowed
a trail cam.
The kind of camera
people use
to see critters
on their land.
Liv and I
were supposed to
set it up
this weekend.
Lucky for me,
it’s a one-person job.
THE SNOW BALL
is what they call
our yearly
December dance.
Liv says
we should go.
I want to say
NO.
But I know
something is
up.
So I say yes.
DECEMBER
(SODACANTAB)
I open
a can of soda
at the
Snow Ball.
Liv is on the lookout
for her
“boyfriend.”
I don’t ask why
he didn’t drive,
buy flowers,
or even ask her
to go.
She sees him
and starts to glow.
Says to me,
“Do you mind if I—”
“No.
I don’t mind,” I lie.
So my best friend
goes.
I tap
the sharp edge
of that soda can tab
against the soft
inside
of my wrist.
And it holds
a promise,
like a kiss.
FRENCH KISS
Cooper, Liv’s boyfriend,
acts
like he’s surprised
to see her here
at this dance.
She gets all
doe-eyed
and
awkward.
I press the tab harder,
like a French kiss.
And when he
French kisses her
on the dance floor,
I pull that tiny,
jagged edge
across my soft
uncut skin.
It makes an
uneven tear
that bleeds
in dots.
A NEW FEELING
A burst of bright pain.
relief
release
calm
PEACE
I opened
myself.
Just like
I’d opened
the soda.
I slide the tab
into my pocket.
And right there,
at the corner
of the dance floor,
I do
an internet search
for that thing
Cooper said:
Girls
who cut themselves
to feel better.
LOVE, PEACE, AND
RAZORBLADES (LPRB)
comes up
as a vlog channel.
Something about
the LPRB girl
makes me
want to
keep watching.
She wears
a veil
to hide
her face.
I can only see
her lips, dark red—
blood red.
Her hair glows
around her,
hanging almost to
her elbows.
As red as her lips
on the top,
then darkening
to black
at the
tips.
She could be
12
or
she could be
20.
She talks
for a long time.
It’s too loud
to hear her.
The veil
moves a little
as she talks.
The movement
of the veil
and
of her mouth
is calming.
Like the blood
is calming.
I subscribe to the channel.
DRAMA CLUB
is on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Liv is
in here, too.
Liv wants to
work lights and sound
on Broadway someday.
write and perform
stand-up comedy.
The club
doesn’t offer much
for writers.
But at least
the spring play
is a comedy:
Mapless, Maine.
Liv used to talk
about Broadway a lot.
Now she talks
about Cooper, always.
She hasn’t even asked
about the trail cam.
CRITTERS
are all I’ve seen
so far
on the land
guarded by the trail cam.
I’ve seen:
raccoons,
squirrels,
a big fat skunk,
an opossum,
some wild turkeys,
a ten-point buck.
I even write
an essay
for my
creative writing class
about what I see.
Maybe
they haven’t
sold this land.
Maybe
they won’t.
And maybe
that skunk
will grow wings
and fly.
AT-HOM ECIRCUS
Step right up,
ladies and gentlemen!
But maybe keep the kiddies
away from this one.
See the Sideshow Parents!
Lobsterman-Dad
hollers like a Nor’easter.
He can rebuild boats,
fix and bait traps,
stay out
after work
doing Godknowswhat.
Bank-Lady-Mom
does not bend
in the storm.
She can make dishes
disappear—SMASH!—
just like that.
They don’t cook!
They don’t clean!
They leave all that to me.
Well, why not?
Every circus needs a clown.
HEATHER WRIGHT–
KEEPIN’ IT LIGHT
It’s not always easy,
believe me.
But when things get
too scary,
I’ve got this notebook
that I carry.
And I take whatever
they are saying
(or yelling)
and try to
make it funny,
spin it
into comedy.
Try to
write a joke
about it.
Even when
I’m broken inside.
Try to
be a funny
daughter.
Lately,
it’s been getting
harder.
HOLIDAY BREAK
Paige is home!
We are all
at the mall.
Like old times!
Except my Dad
didn’t drive us.
Paige can drive us now.
The mall is sad.
So many
closed stores.
And the Thrift Shoppe.
We buy
makeup and underwear.
We try on
crazy hats and boa scarves
at the Thrift Shoppe
and even find
some stuff we like there.
We get
just-OK pizza
at the food court.
We use
our gift cards
and laugh a lot.
Until:
Liv
spots Cooper
at the other end
of the food court,
with a girl
on his lap.
Paige says,
“Oh is that
his holiday
girlfriend?
His Bar Harbor
girlfriend?
His rich,
spoiled,
from-Away
girlfriend?”
Liv says,
“Shut up!
I’m sure she’s
just a friend.”
“Looks like
more than
just a friend
to me.”
And Liv
THROWS HER SODA
at Paige.
CIRCUS AT THE MALL
Paige
SLAPS LIV IN THE FACE.
“I will leave you here!”
“I’ll go home with Cooper!”
They’re both swearing.
Cooper
and his group
of friends
all watch
the sisters
fight.
They all laugh
about it.
Even Cooper.
Paige stops yelling
at Liv.
Storms right over
to Cooper and
KNOCKS HIS SODA OUT OF HIS HAND.
“You think this is funny?”
She swears some more.
ONE DAY SHE’LL SNAP
AND SLAP COOPER.
AND TELL LIV TO SHOVE OFF.
AND PROBABLY ME, TOO.
BEFORE DRIVING BACK
TO COLLEGE
AND NEVER COMING HOME.
JANUARY
(STRAIGHT PIN)
The Thrift Shoppe
still attaches
price tags
with straight pins.
My hands
find their way
into the shopping bag.
Find the tag
and unpin it
from the sweater.
Just holding it,
I feel better.
It’s thin and cool.
I prick it
through
a pinch of skin.
Then another.
Then another.
Like I’m sewing.
Like a stitch.
A STITCH IN MY SKIN
that lets me
breathe again.
The pain is sharp and hot.
And I feel,
as before,
like I’m floating
above
everything.
Away
from it all.
I can see only
tiny dots
of blood.
But they
HURT.
And nothing
around me
seems to matter
as much.
Things seem
like they’re not even
REAL.
I feel all right.
I feel calm.
I feel
GOOD.
MIDWINTER BREAK
was always
Liv and me.
Snowshoeing
sledding
winter hiking
hot chocolate
warm blankets
movies
But this year,
I spend it with Sophie.
That’s the LPRB girl.
She hides
her voice
just like
she hides
her face.
Uses auto-tune
or something.
It makes her sound
old and tired,
but also
somehow
wise.
It’s as comforting
to hear
as it is
to watch.
The veil.
Her mouth.
That voice.
She mostly
just talks.
About cutting.
Cutting herself.
It makes her feel
the same as
it makes me feel:
better.
And I have to
admit that
maybe Cooper
was right.
COOPER
is the reason
I am alone
this winter season.
He made up
with Liv
somehow.
She told me
she wanted
to spend
most of the week
with him
and asked
if I’d
be mad.
I told her no.
And it’s true.
I’ve got
something else
to do.
Plus the trail cam
and the critters.
Anyway,
I don’t get mad.
She would just
get mad back
and then we’d be
fighting.
FIGHTING
The night
we were at
the mall,
Paige came back over
to drop off
a bag I’d left
in her car.
Before she went home,
she asked me,
“Is everything
okay
with you guys?”
“Yeah.
I mean,
we’re not
fighting.”
“Not fighting
is not the same
as okay.”
In my world,
though,
it is.
OR EVEN WORSE,NOT TALKING
The house is cold
from the silence
of my parents.
It’s worse
than when they yell
at each other.
The merry-go-round
has become a
miserable-go-round.
I wait.
For one of them
to say
anything.
Instead,
the silence hangs
around us
like fog.
Cold enough
to freeze the sun.
EARLY FEBRUARY
(TINY SAW)
Boxes of foil
have a metal
cutting strip.
It’s basically
a tiny saw.
I snatch the box.
Sneak it
up to my room.
Set my arm
on the sharp little teeth
of that tiny saw
and YANK!
The pain
nearly makes me
cry out.
SAWED SKIN
My arm
BURNS
like a
skinned knee
and
BLEEDS
about the same.
It
HURTS
more
than last time,
but different, too.
The pain
carries me
like a warm breeze
and everything
JUST
spins under me
as I float away.
Everything
is okay.
No matter
what happens,
It’ll be all
RIGHT.
DRAMA CLUB DROPOUT
That’s what Liv is!
“It’s just
too much,”
she tells me.
“I’m so busy.”