by Sarah Tregay
and a somber rendition of “Party’s Over.”
Katie backs away from the mike.
Linus sings alone:
I just watched my girlfriend get laid on the sofa
Does that seem weird to you?
Emily, I think.
He chose this song because of Emily.
It’s complicated
Stranded at first base I never saw her naked
Me, I think.
He chose this song because of me?
Ouch.
“The Next Song Isn’t a Cover”
Linus announces into the mike,
over the roar of the crowd.
“It’s a little something I wrote
to play tonight.
I call it
‘The Dr. Seuss Breakup Song’!”
He counts out loud, unleashing
pulsing amps and pounding drums.
Leave me alone. Get out of my head.
Stop patching things up, get out of my bed.
Walk the other way, get out of my face.
Don’t say good-bye, turn your back instead.
I need to breathe. I need some space.
No, I don’t want to talk. Don’t want an embrace.
I don’t care if you cry, don’t care if you pout.
We don’t belong. We’re a disgrace.
Leave me alone, I shout.
I want you gone. I want you out.
Don’t email, don’t text, don’t telephone.
It’s over, my love, beyond a doubt.
I gave you my heart, now turned to stone.
I gave you my flesh, I gave you my bones.
It wasn’t enough. It didn’t work out.
Get out of my head. Leave me alone.
After the Applause
Linus doesn’t stop playing,
he just morphs the chords
into a minor key,
slows the rhythm
to that of a relaxed heartbeat.
Alone in my room, hand in hand, side by side
I said, “I love you,” and you replied,
“But there is something you must be told.”
With those words you cannot hide.
I thought I would cherish the day
that I gave my heart away,
but you pushed it back, closed my chest
with nothing but willpower gone astray.
You say you were lonely, unwanted, cold.
That he was just a body to hold.
“It was different there, on Little Bay,”
on and on you list your reasons bold.
I thought I would cherish the day
that I gave my heart away,
but you pushed it back, closed my chest
with nothing but willpower gone astray.
The truth is too much to digest,
leaves me heavy, motionless, depressed.
“But I love you,” I cry as you get dressed.
“I love you,” I shout, a man obsessed.
Standing Ovation
“Fuck you!” I shout at Linus.
“If you wanted to talk to me,
all you had to do was call!”
But he doesn’t hear me among
the clapping whooping stomping.
He’s holding Katie’s hand.
They’re taking a bow.
I storm out.
Before anyone
can see that
I’m crying.
The Auditorium Door
clanks shut behind me,
muffling whistles shouts cheers.
I lean against it,
sink to the floor.
Thoughts thud in my head
to the rhythm of the drums
as Ian starts in on an encore
Now
The whole school knows I broke his heart.
That I’m a slut. A crap girlfriend.
They know that my best friend hates me.
Or she wouldn’t be in the band,
playing along to my ex-boyfriend’s tune.
I’m no longer a Leftover.
How could I be?
No one even likes me.
I feel as if
I am on one side
of a two-inch-thick barricade
and the rest of the world
is on the other.
The First Letter I Don’t Send
Dear Linus,
I’m glad that you
got me off your chest.
It must have been therapeutic.
Why else would you bring up
everything
I’ve ever done,
every emotion
you’ve ever felt
in front of the whole school?
Maybe now you can move on,
and be the kind of guy Emily deserves.
God knows she doesn’t need
to date a rebounding loser
like you.
Go to hell,
Marcie
P.S.
I hate you and
everything I’ve ever done
to make you hate me.
The Second Letter I Don’t Send
Dear Katie,
How could you?
How could you
play all those notes
when you knew
the lyrics
would hit my heart
like buckshot
carefully packed
into a shotgun shell
and fired point-blank?
You knew, you had to know.
Your former best friend,
Marcie
Period
I hurt all over.
My head throbs from crying,
my stomach knots with cramps,
my body bleeds as if my insides are wounded,
and my ego aches for redemption.
Forget the Midol,
could someone please
pass the Prozac?
Katie Hasn’t
called
IM’d
emailed
stopped by
or said hi.
I Think
the
whole
world
hates
me.
The Downside of Living with Dad and Danny
There is no one
to go to the store
and buy you tampons.
No one who knows
you need the kind with applicators
because you can’t figure out the other ones.
No one who knows
you like the regular size, unscented
because you don’t want to smell like a baby’s
bottom.
So I go to the grocery store
to buy a magazine, a Coke, a candy bar,
a bag of chips, English muffins, peanut butter,
and tampons.
I carefully choose a female cashier,
then pile my items on the conveyor belt
so you can’t see the tampons.
She swipes the items,
the register beep-beeping,
and slides them back to the bagging area—
the tampons exposed.
Ducking my blushing face,
I pay with a twenty, stuff my change in my pocket.
I reach for my two plastic bags without looking up.
My fingers tangle with the bag boy’s,
the bags’ handles twisting us together.
“Need help out, Marcie?”
I look up to see Linus. “No.”
He asks if I am sure, handing me one bag
and keeping the other one hostage.
“Really. I walked,” I snap.
He walks next to me anyway,
looking shy in his Day-Glo orange vest.
“So you got a job?” I try to be nicer.
“Yeah. My dad lost his in the layoffs.
So I’ve gotta cover my music lessons.”
We reach the edge of th
e parking lot
and Linus says,
“I’m sorry . . . about the songs.”
“They kicked me in the gut,” I tell him.
“But I guess that was the point.”
“It was a stupid stunt—
to get my revenge in front of everyone—
I shouldn’t have done it.”
“Apology accepted,” I say,
consciously trying not to be selfish.
Or a bitch.
Things I Threw Away
Seeing Linus at the grocery store
just reminded me
how much I like him.
Really.
I had him.
I had everything.
I had his heart
(but didn’t know it).
He loved me.
Past tense.
He Reminds Me
I want to be somebody
(not famous, or rich,
or even beautiful)
just somebody to someone.
I want another person to notice me,
to say that I matter,
to say that they care
about me.
Like J.D. did.
Is that so wrong? Selfish?
My Girl
If my mom says
women
are not property
how come I want
to belong
to someone?
All Week
I wait
for Katie to apologize
(even just a little)
for playing in the band,
when all the songs were about me,
(or maybe)
for not telling me that
all the songs on the set list were breakup songs
and that I should have come wearing emotional armor.
(So what)
if she thinks I’m a selfish bitch.
There’s a limit. Even selfish bitches don’t deserve that.
(I mean)
Linus apologized for the songs.
And we aren’t even best friends.
What I’d Say to Katie
(IF WE WERE TALKING)
We’re best friends. Right.
You tell me everything. Right.
I’d do anything for you.
I’d walk on coals for you.
I’d lie to your mom for you.
You’d skip study hall Right.
to buy me Midol. Right.
I’d hold your hand.
I’d take a stand.
I’d walk with you to Neverland.
You’d wipe my tears. Right.
We’ll be friends for years. Right?
Temper Tantrum
When I was little
and I got home from school
before my mom got home from work,
I’d throw myself on the sofa,
kick scream wail “I want my mommy!”
until she came home.
Somehow,
it worked every time.
But today when I called her,
hoping for an ear that would listen
to my never-ending list of problems,
she didn’t pick up.
I wanted to
shout cry sob “I miss my mommy!”
but I left her a message
instead.
No One Can Hurt My Heart
Inside My Little Ball
I curl up into a ball
to protect my breaking heart.
My ball isn’t small enough.
I curl up into a little ball.
All alone
fat ugly unloved little ball.
All alone
stupid careless selfish little ball.
All alone
crying confused hopeless little bawl.
I Am to Blame
I was the one
who felt all alone.
The one who would do anything
to make the emptiness go away.
I was the one
who stumbled into J.D.’s arms.
The one who kissed and touched
just to get a fix.
I was the one
who broke Linus’s heart
by reaching out
to save my own from shriveling up.
I was the one
who didn’t email, IM, or telephone.
The one who told the truth
too late.
I was the one
who put Katie in the middle.
The one who tried to
make her choose.
I won’t say I’m the one who broke up the Leftovers—
even though it feels like I did.
Because Leftovers, of all people,
need to listen to each other,
care about one another,
and understand.
Even if it’s difficult.
Because I Want My Best Friend Back
I plunk my butt next to Katie’s on the bus.
“I get that you’re mad at me,” I say.
“But I don’t know why.”
“Duh.”
“I broke up with Linus, not you.”
“And he blames me,” she says.
“Why?”
“Because I told you that falling in love
feels like that jolt right before you fall asleep.”
“Yeah,” I agree.
“But Linus says it’s like springtime on the moon.
All sunshine and cherry blossoms but no gravity.”
“What’s he smoking?” I ask.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“That’s what I said,” Katie goes on.
“But Linus says if I had explained
what falling in love really felt like,
you would have known that you loved him,
not the Prince of New Hampshire.”
“I didn’t fall in love with either of them.”
“When you do fall in love?” she asks.
“Will you tell me?”
“Yeah.” I bump her shoulder with mine.
“What are best friends for?”
You’re Invited
Linus hands out invitations to the Leftovers.
They are decorated with fire engines and Dalmatians.
Who: Emily’s Baby Boy
What: First Birthday
When: Saturday, February 3, 1:00 p.m.
Where: Katie’s House
Your presence is our present!
Saturday, 1:00 P.M.
On Saturday, I walk to Katie’s
in time to see Linus pull in the drive.
(I didn’t know he got his license.)
He gets out and steps around.
In her car seat, his niece cries raindrops.
“Shush, Bug. Really now,”
he says as he unbuckles her.
“Aunt Marcie’s here,
don’t you want to wave hi-hi?”
She giggles.
And so do I,
because Linus just implied
that we were married.
“Bug is the substitute for Emily’s baby,”
Linus explains, handing me her diaper bag.