Redwood and Ponytail

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Redwood and Ponytail Page 4

by K. A. Holt


  Alex

  Alyx

  Alexx

  Starving.

  Dehydrated.

  Lost in a desert.

  Wild eyes.

  Desperate.

  Searching, searching.

  Our Redwood.

  Our Ponytail.

  An oasis in the hall.

  Finds sustenance.

  Quenches her thirst.

  Eyes meet.

  Catastrophe averted.

  Breathes deep.

  All is well again.

  Kate

  Hey, stranger,

  my mouth says

  before my brain even knows I’m talking.

  I see you weren’t abducted by aliens,

  so,

  whew.

  Her head whips around,

  she looks down

  at me,

  smiles

  at me,

  slams her locker

  like an exclamation point.

  Nah.

  Had to fight off some giant

  robots, though.

  Well, I’m glad you survived.

  Me, too.

  Her smile is crooked,

  the left side higher,

  like it knows something the right side

  doesn’t.

  Maybe we should walk to class

  together?

  In case the robots come back?

  And you’ll be my protector?

  Um, of course.

  I flex my arms.

  She laughs.

  I’ll protect you all the way to class.

  I think maybe the robots

  are controlling me

  because what am I even saying?

  TAM

  Everyone says,

  Hey, Tam! or

  What’s up, girl! or

  Hey, nerd!

  to me

  as we walk by,

  and I give out

  all the

  high fives.

  Kate says hi

  to everyone,

  How’s it going, Daniel? and

  Hey, Sofie, and

  I like that shirt, Grace,

  as we walk by

  and they all smile

  like . . . I don’t even know.

  And it’s so funny, right?

  That she knows everyone,

  and everyone knows me,

  and somehow it took this long

  for the two of us to meet?

  Kate

  TAM

  My mouth does the thing again,

  talking before I think,

  She surprises me again, saying,

  You’re going to the game?

  Right?

  She makes a face like,

  Hello, crazy,

  Is there anything else to do

  on a Thursday night?

  I make a face, because

  the Falcons were one game shy

  of winning last year’s

  championship, so

  duh

  of course I’ll be there,

  everyone in town

  will be there.

  Fly, Falcons, fly!

  I link my thumbs,

  make my hands into wings.

  Ever watched the cheerleaders?

  During the game?

  I have not once ever

  even thought about

  cheerleaders

  while watching

  a game.

  Um. Maybe?

  Whoa, whoa, whoa.

  We’re the best part!

  And you don’t watch?!

  Well, now we can’t be friends.

  My eyebrows go sky high.

  Her eyebrows go sky high.

  I smile.

  Just a joke.

  She smiles.

  What a turd.

  Come sit by our bench,

  watch me cheer . . .

  and watch the game

  if you have to.

  Watch her cheer?

  I start to laugh

  because THAT

  is the funniest thing

  I’ve ever heard.

  Watching flips and yells

  instead of catches and runs?

  Except.

  I think about watching her

  smile and cheer and clap

  and yell,

  I think about that ponytail

  spinning like fireworks

  and . . .

  Okay. Fine.

  And WHAT am I even saying?!

  Okay?! Fine?!

  I’ll give it a go.

  But I make no promises I’ll—

  Yay! Yes! You’re going to love it.

  Oh, will I?

  You’re going to.

  I promise.

  Promise, huh?

  I smile.

  She smiles.

  I smile.

  She smiles.

  Whoa.

  Whoa.

  TAM

  Am I really going

  to sit by the cheer bench?

  With the moms

  and the wannabes?

  Instead of with the noisy crowd?

  What if I get distracted?

  Miss a sack?

  Lose track

  of the score?

  But . . .

  Kate asked me to.

  Kate wants me to.

  Ponytail was very

  insistent,

  and I guess . . .

  what can it hurt?

  I bet if I ask,

  Levi will sit with me.

  At least at first.

  Kate

  Is she really coming

  to the game?

  Did I just ask-blurt that?

  Why does it make me nervous?

  Games don’t make me nervous.

  Nothing makes me nervous.

  Except . . .

  should I tell her I’ll be hidden

  under a giant falcon head?

  Is she expecting to actually see, uh,

  me?

  Or does she even care?

  And why

  have I

  just spent

  ten minutes

  worrying about this?

  OMG.

  Kate

  If you want,

  you can meet me at my house

  tonight,

  and we’ll go over

  together.

  I’ll get you a good seat

  so you can see the game

  and, um,

  me.

  My mouth keeps talking

  and I keep wondering

  why I’m saying these things.

  Bring someone with me?

  When I should be focusing?

  Prepping for the game?

  Mom is going to freak.

  TAM

  Okay.

  Sure.

  Cool.

  And now I’m going to the game

  with a cheerleader

  and sitting behind the cheer bench

  and

  what

  is

  even

  happening.

  Robots must be

  for real controlling me.

  TAM

  Exactly five minutes

  is how long I have

  to shower

  change

  run to Kate’s

  so I can get a ride

  to the game.

  Why don’t I

  drive you to the game?

  Mom shouts through

  my closed door

  but no

  I don’t want her to drive me.

  I said yes to Kate

  and I will go with Kate

  and hopefully I won’t be late

  because argh

  my hair

  it looks so stupid

  and this baggy shirt . . .

  way extra dorky

  and WHO AM I

  worrying about these things?

  Breathe, Tam.

>   Just brush your hair,

  forget about the shirt,

  and go.

  Jeez.

  It’s only a football game.

  Only a football game?!

  Seriously.

  Who

  am

  I

  ?

  Kate

  Watching Mom is kind of fun

  as she almost blows a gasket

  looking at her watch

  and at me

  and the door to the garage

  and back at her watch.

  You’d think she

  was the one

  about to be late,

  about to be yelled at.

  She clears her throat.

  I shrug.

  I know Tam will be here.

  I know she will.

  The knock at the door,

  a quick tap tap tap

  reveals her,

  out of breath

  her smile big . . .

  a little too big.

  I laugh

  and laugh

  and laugh.

  Hey.

  Hey.

  You made it.

  I made it.

  Your shirt’s on

  backwards.

  Her eyes jump wide,

  she looks down at her chest

  starts to giggle.

  Come on.

  You can fix it in my room.

  Mom looks at her watch.

  Frowns.

  Mom looks at Tam.

  Frowns.

  I march us

  upward

  out of here.

  TAM

  A small bookshelf in her room,

  perfectly made bed,

  perfectly clean desk,

  perfectly perfect

  everything.

  I take a book off the shelf.

  It feels brand new.

  The dust jacket slides

  in my hand.

  If you were a book,

  what would your dust jacket say?

  Her face, her eyes,

  they both smile

  as she tilts her head

  to the side:

  What do you mean?

  Your story,

  I say,

  tapping the book.

  How would I judge your cover?

  Hmmm.

  She twirls in a circle

  once,

  twice,

  flops on the bed.

  It would say:

  Here lies Kate,

  the smartest, most beautiful girl

  who was the best at everything

  but still a nice person

  because that’s important, too.

  I laugh.

  I think that was a

  gravestone

  not a dust jacket.

  Close enough!

  What would yours say?

  Gravestone?

  Or dust jacket?

  Either.

  Hmmm.

  She sits up and watches me,

  really stares,

  dark eyes

  sparkling.

  Tam lives on a shelf

  all her own.

  We both laugh.

  Girls! Hurry up!

  TAM

  Book back on shelf,

  I pull my arms into my shirt,

  spinning it around,

  sticking my arms out again.

  Grinning faces accost me

  from the wall behind her door.

  You can’t possibly like them.

  Who?

  MisDirection?

  I point at the poster.

  Maybe I pretend to gag.

  A little.

  The worst boy band of all time?

  Shut up.

  She throws a sock at me.

  They’re cute.

  AND we’re going to their show

  for my birthday.

  The whole squad.

  We have an MDOMG countdown clock

  and everything.

  I pretend to throw up.

  But I also laugh.

  She throws her other sock.

  I duck.

  The music is catchy.

  Catchy like the flu.

  I walk over to the poster,

  peer into all the eyes

  peering back.

  You know what?

  They kind of look like girls.

  They do not!

  We both look at the poster

  for a minute

  then I throw the socks back at her

  wham bam

  and she laughs,

  a sound I’m beginning

  to want to hear

  every second

  of every day.

  Girls! What’s taking

  so long?

  Kate

  The look on her face

  when I pull the giant falcon head

  out of my closet

  along with the wings

  and the big

  yellow

  feet.

  Hahahaha.

  I put on the head,

  bobble around.

  Tam laughs and laughs

  until Mom stands in the doorway

  tapping her watch,

  chewing her frown.

  Let’s get going, girls.

  Katherine can’t be late.

  Mom continues to hate

  the falcon head

  but I don’t want to fight about it

  today.

  TAM

  No one can see your pretty face

  inside that thing.

  That’s what Kate’s mom said to her

  when she thought I wasn’t listening.

  You can’t be captain of the squad

  and a cartoon character

  at the same time,

  come on, sweetheart.

  Her words came out pointed.

  Sharp.

  Stabbing darts.

  Have some self-respect.

  You don’t want to be like Jill.

  Let someone else be a goofball

  so you can shine.

  I heard it all

  through the bathroom door

  just before

  I burst out,

  caught Kate’s eyes with mine.

  What did my eyes say to her?

  I’m not sure.

  Maybe something like,

  Yikes,

  and

  Who’s Jill?

  What did her eyes say to mine?

  I’m not sure.

  Maybe something like,

  I’ll tell you later,

  and

  Moms. Ugh.

  TAM

  Tingling skull

  just above my neck

  the kind of feeling

  that makes a kid sweat

  like a whisper

  a threat

  a realization

  a thought

  a hit

  to the brain,

  thinking

  maybe I shouldn’t be here,

  maybe I don’t know Kate at all,

  maybe her mom knows that, too,

  I don’t know

  it’s the way her mom looks at me

  up and down

  and down and up,

  frown curling.

  This place,

  this house,

  so clean,

 

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