“It’s not going to be okay if that’s what you’re sort of poorly asking. I’m sorry. It’s shit, all of it. And they want you to feel stupid.”
“Okay,” I say nodding, understanding this. “They do?”
“They do, all of them, they don’t care. You should have seen the way they took me out of here.”
“I did.”
“Yeah, well.”
“I’m sorry they did that to you.”
“Look, if you’re anything like me, this place is a real drag. Don’t, you know, kill yourself over it or whatever. Or, kill yourself.”
“I don’t want to kill myself.”
“Good.”
“Do you, want to …”
“Look, I gotta go, my mom’s downstairs. I just mean, don’t wait for anything to get better. Nothing gets better for us. You know? I guess just do what they say and be who you are later.”
“When is later?”
“I don’t know. Later I guess, when we’re grown-ups, when we’re on our own.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
“Thanks. I gotta go.” And she slams the locker shut and stands. “It’s really shitty, I know.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure, but make it snappy.” She brushes long swaths of black hair away from her face, her Adidas body-hugging jersey pulling up from her shorty-short raver shorts.
“Were you ever happy, even when you were a kid?”
“Sure, a few times. Not enough I guess.” At this she sort of snort-laughs as if remembering something only she can see, and it’s weird because I’ve never seen her laugh before and her smile is glorious.
“So is it scary there? At the hospital?” And now she’s the one that looks confused.
“I’m not in a hospital. I’m in rehab.” She holds out the plastic bracelet as evidence and something like panic and hopelessness swarm up from the pit of my gut, my chest constricts, nothing I know is true and I am so unsure. About everything. Memories, people, events, a blur of pops and flashes. “I’m not crazy, Nikki, and neither are you. Who the fuck else were we supposed to become in a world full of all of them?” She turns and walks calmly back down the hall, head drooped, hair a shroud around her shoulders, into the light that opens like a window and she’s taken all the air with her, now that she has gone.
With gratitude:
There are so many people to thank for this book, I’m overwhelmed to think where to begin.
First and foremost, Laurie Pike. Thank you, Laurie, for taking a chance on a crazy teenage kid, believing in me, pushing me to succeed, introducing me to cultural icons and just subculture in general, and showing me a vision of a life I wanted. Thank you for saying, this is for you, this can be yours.
Jessica Hopper, Ann Powers, Chris Ziegler, Randall Roberts.
Every English teacher I’ve ever had. Pasadena City College, Eugene Lang College. Maggie Nelson, Janet Sarbanes, and the entire CalArts writing faculty.
USC and my cohort. My committee, Dana Johnson, Aimee Bender, Karen Tongson, Laura Isabel Serna, Tania Modleski.
Raquel Gutiérrez, Kate Wolf, Daniel Ingroff, Paul Pescador, David Gilbert, Samantha Cohen, Charlotte Harrigan, Ann Friedman, Stacy Wood, Sarah Williams, Carolyn Pennypacker Riggs, Jessie Thurston, Jibade-Khalil Huffman, Dean Erdmann, Mark McKnight, Whitney Hubbs, Beth Pickens, Asher Hartman, Amanda Yates Garcia, Jaye Fishel, John Burtle, Emi Fontana, Paul Soto, Rachel Kaadzi Ghansah.
Megan McGinnis and Michelle Pullman.
Marissa López and the UCLA Chicano Studies Research Center.
Michelle Tea and the Feminist Press, RADAR Productions, Juliana Delgado Lopera, Virgie Tovar, and the 2016 Sister Spit crew.
My family, Nancy Darling and Bud Darling who are not the parents in this novel and have always supported and believed in me. My sister Anna Marie, Ananda Day Cavalli and her family, my tía Lily Martínez and all my ancestors in New Mexico. My grandparents Maria and Rufus Rodríguez. The Darling family, my cousins Itzel and Nayeli Lavanderos, my tía Cindy Hawes.
Mari, Angie, Adam, Belinda, and Sarah, wherever life takes us on this lumpy bumpy psychedelic trip, I carry you always and forever in my heart.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
© PAUL MPAGI SEPUYA
NIKKI DARLING is a writer, artist, and performer based in Los Angeles. Her music criticism and essays appear regularly in the Los Angeles Times, LA Weekly, and the Los Angeles Review of Books. Currently she is a PhD candidate in USC’s Creative Writing & Literature program.
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ABOUT FEMINIST PRESS
The Feminist Press is a nonprofit educational organization founded to amplify feminist voices. FP publishes classic and new writing from around the world, creates cutting-edge programs, and elevates silenced and marginalized voices in order to support personal transformation and social justice for all people.
See our complete list of books at
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