by Sarah Tregay
gets wet in the rain
and decides to bend.”
Danny just looks at me
like I don’t make any sense
and wonders out loud
if “maybe this is stuff for your notebook?”
Notes from My Heart
I take my notebook
from my bag.
Smooth my fingers
over pages,
as if the bubbles
made by long-ago tears
were messages
written in Braille.
I start to read
what I had written,
but stop
midsentence
when the
doorbell
rings.
What Emily Said
Linus has his backpack on,
like he hasn’t been home
since before we got off the bus.
“I talked to Emily,
and she admitted
that she isn’t ready
for a relationship.”
He takes a deep breath.
“And she’d rather
we be friends like before,
except she’d like to
keep her babysitting job.”
I can’t wait another second.
I grab his backpack straps.
Pull him to me.
Kiss his mouth.
Kiss away any doubt.
My Dad Comes Home
I stop kissing Linus
and try to regain my balance,
my composure.
Dad puts down his briefcase,
takes off his coat.
Linus ignores him,
looks in my eyes,
and asks me
if I’d be his girlfriend,
again.
“Yes,” I say.
“Exclusively.”
(Just in time
for Valentine’s Day.)
Dad thinks we should celebrate
so he treats us to pizza
at Flying Pie on State Street,
where they play eighties rock
and pinball
instead of watching the Wildcats
play football.
And I like it better.
Even though Linus and Daddy
both beat me at pinball.
On the Way Home from Pizza
Dad turns down Linus’s street
and parks the Mustang in the Thomases’ driveway—
his not-so-subtle way of saying I have homework to do.
I flop the front seat forward and wiggle out.
Linus unfolds his long legs and stands up beside me.
He takes my hand, leans down, and kisses my cheek.
“See you at the bus stop.”
My heart love-dubs in my chest,
not wanting to say good night.
So I shut the car door,
hold up one finger in a promise
that I’ll be back in a minute.
Or five.
Linus’s hand still in mine,
we walk to his door,
where no one has bothered to turn on a light.
My heart love-dubs in my chest.
I think I say, “Kiss me.”
But Linus
may have
read my mind.
Kissing My Boyfriend
feels like riding
a Tilt-A-Whirl.
When I open my eyes,
it takes me a minute
to regain my balance.
“Linus . . .”
I take a deep breath
and say out loud
exactly what my heart
wants my lips to say:
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he says.
Snuggled in Bed
Long after
Dad’s heart-to-heart
about the importance
of school attendance,
I open
my precious
blue spiral notebook
to what
I thought
was a blank page
only to find it
written on!
Dear Marcie
Some things are inexcusable.
And I just did one of those things.
I read your notebook.
Go ahead and hate me.
But I had to do it.
You were the first girl I ever loved
and I had to know where I went wrong.
Yes, I dumped you because you cheated on me.
But after reading your diary,
I realize that I had misunderstood.
I thought you had sex with him.
And that hurt. A lot.
And, I know you thought I was gay
because I never touched your breasts.
Believe me, I wanted to.
But part of me wasn’t ready to take your clothes off
because I’ve seen Maxim, Playboy, and Hustler
(that’s what happens when you have older brothers)
and I know that shit ain’t real.
I didn’t want
my smart, talented, adorable, emotional girlfriend
to turn into a three-dimensional magazine centerfold
when I peeled off her T-shirt.
I know you’re laughing.
But I swear that’s what happened to Roland
and Bug’s mom.
They were best friends until they started
sleeping together
instead of talking to each other.
And I swore I’d never let that happen to me.
I guess that’s what I wanted to tell you.
And if, someday, you get over hating me for reading this
and want to be friends again
I’d really like that.
Love, Linus
I Jump Out of Bed and Call Linus
“You wrote me a poem!” “Not a very good one.”
He laughs.
“It’s sweet.” “It’s embarrassing.”
“But now I know for
sure.” “For sure what?”
“That I’m dating the
sweetest guy on earth.” “Dorkiest, maybe.”
“Linus!” I complain. In the background,
Roland agrees.
There’s a dull thud,
like someone got hit.
When I’m sure Linus
is back, I say,
“I didn’t know you thought
I had sex with J.D.” “I didn’t know what to think.”
“I guess I didn’t tell you
that I didn’t sleep with him.” “I think you did,
I just couldn’t hear you.”
“We weren’t exactly
talking.” “Next time, I promise
to tell you stuff on the bus.
So the whole city’ll know.”
“Or in the cafeteria—” “Gotta make sure
the whole school can hear.”
“Or in the auditorium—” “Into the mike.
Loud and clear,
in case they missed it.”
“Or maybe I’ll just
write you a poem—
a totally embarrassing
mushy one.” “And I’ll write you a
love song—
a sticky sweet one
about kissing you.”
“I’d like that.” “Me too.”
On the Last Page of My Notebook
As my mixed-up,
gay-dad-crazy-mom world
returns to its previously scheduled orbit
and the tropical storm that was my life
dwindles to scattered showers,
I close my eyes
and listen to my heartbeat.
Love dub | love dub
It sounds like a two-tone metronome,
sending me a message in Morse code.
Love dub | love dub
I get it now.
&nbs
p; My heart says it’s in love.
But it didn’t feel like
that jolt before falling asleep
or like springtime on the moon.
It felt like my heart
had something to say,
and all I had to do
was listen.
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank my agent, Danielle Chiotti, for believing in my manuscript; my editor, Sarah Shumway, for making it shine; and Laurel Symonds, Kathryn Hinds, and Maggie Herold for polishing it. My gratitude goes out to my crit group at The Cabin, who read the first draft; to Athena Birckbichler, who worked behind the scenes; and to Laura Gray, who reassures me that I’m only as old as I act. Thanks to Sonya Sones for the inspiration and to the Violent Femmes and Son of Dork for the tunes. Many thanks to my parents for their support and encouragement, to my family for the camp and my New Hampshire roots, and to Jason for everything else.
About the Author
Sarah Tregay is a graphic designer. When she isn’t jotting down poems at stoplights, Sarah can be found hanging out with her “little sister” from Big Brothers Big Sisters. She lives in Eagle, Idaho, with her husband, two Boston terriers, and an Appaloosa named Mr. Pots. You can find her online at www.sarahtregay.com.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.
Credits
Jacket photo © 2012 by Allegra Villella
Copyright
Love and Leftovers
Copyright © 2012 by Sarah Tregay
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Tregay, Sarah.
Love and leftovers : a novel in verse / by Sarah Tregay. — 1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: When her father starts dating a man, fifteen-year-old Marcie’s depressed mother takes her to New Hampshire but just as Marcie starts falling for a great guy her father brings her back to Idaho, where all of her relationships have become strained.
ISBN 978-0-06-202358-2 (trade bdg.)
EPub Edition © NOVEMBER 2011 ISBN: 9780062099358
[1. Novels in verse. 2. Interpersonal relations—Fiction. 3. Family problems—Fiction. 4. Moving, Household—Fiction. 5. Bisexuality—Fiction. 6. New Hampshire—Fiction. 7. Idaho—Fiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.5.T74Love
[Fic]—dc23
20122011019367
CIP
AC
12 13 14 15 16 LP/RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
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Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Part One - DURHAM, NEW HAMPSHIRE
My Family’s Summerhouse
The Breakup
Long Shot
An Explanation
Lonely
Since the Breakup
Saturday at the Laundromat
Every Time Dad Calls and Mom Answers
I Want to Ask Dad Questions Too
The First Day of School
The Second Day of School
Talk about Accents
The Teachers Hate
“Martha Iris?”
I Know I Shouldn’t Put People in Boxes
Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 1:
Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 2:
Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 3:
Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 4:
Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 5:
Things I Left Behind in Boise, Poem 6:
When My Mother Takes an Ambien
The Worst Thing I Have Ever Done
The Best Thing Linus Ever Did
Driver’s License Daydreams
The Boat
I Don’t Like Lobster Anyway
Dominoes
Half-and-Half
Oyster River High School
The Leftover Lovers YouTube Performance #1
I Know I Like Him
A Feeling Like Falling
If Only We Could Be Together
America Runs on Dunkin’
Give Me a Break, Sam
Talking to Linus Is Depressing
BFF
HOME Is a Four-Letter Word
September 14–11:45 P.M.
Speaking of Good-Looking Guys
Thank God for Football
I Don’t Have a Dress to Wear
The Perfect Dress
J.D. Picks Me Up
Homecoming at OR
October 5–11:54 P.M.
I Close Mom’s Computer
Middle-of-the-Night Daydreams
Dinner
When I Was Little
When Dad Calls and I Answer
“You Cut Your Hair?”
Hairapy
Until
Family Hairstory
My Relatives Are Like Grapes on a Vine
Money
The Conversation
October 11–11:30 P.M.
Student Housing
A Bath at Last
I’ll Be Brief
Closing Camp
Bedtime
The Leftover Lovers YouTube Performance #2
What I Want to Do
A Package from Katie
October 27–12:02 A.M.
No One to Clink Glasses With
Katie Rants on the Phone
Regret
Frat Boys
Clothes
I Love Pizza
Motherly Advice for the Teenage Soul
Treats
Insight
My Birthday
Birthday Presents
At 3:20 That Afternoon Everyone Remembers
More Birthday Presents
Three Gifts Are in Blue-and-White Priority Mail Boxes
After Greta and Arthur Kiss Me Good Night
My Wish
After the Guests Have Gone
Kissing J.D.
Tomorrow, Tomorrow
I Inherited It
Would He Tell Me?
Procrastination
Maybe
The End
I Told My Mother
Now
The Next Best Thing to a Security Blanket
Morning
Peeking from Behind My Locker Door
I Take the Cup of Coffee
My Sweaters Arrive Parcel Post
I Open the Envelope Dad Sent
I Crumple It Up
Back to the Boxes
I Explain
<
br /> Lambasted
Katie, You Don’t Understand
It Was Dumb. I Know.
What Best Friends Are For
Trapped
Home from School (Almost)
Change Is Good
I Try Making Friends
A Silent Thank-you Note
November 18–11:33 P.M.
Questions
Chasing Boys
Answering Machine Message from Linus
Baking Pies for Thanksgiving
Thanksgiving at Aunt Greta’s
Like Clockwork
Blue Cafeteria Trays
How I Learned that the Cutest Jock at OR Had a Crush
S’mores
I Don’t Know Who Started It
Writer’s Block
J.D. and I
News to Me
In the Aftermath of Operation Girlfriend Defreak
3.1 Miles of Conversation
Megan
Telling Truths
Nickname
Opportunity Knocks
Overactive Imagination
Kissing as a Recreational Sport
Answering Machine Message from Dad
Because I Love Her
Memory
Illness
At the Bagel Shop
At the Laundromat
Change of Season
Friends with Benefits
Thank God
My Mother Is Wrong
Overheard
J.D. Knows to Avoid the Potholes
“Hi, Daddy!”
My Father Wraps Me in His Long Arms
Dad Doesn’t Lecture Me
Back at Our Apartment
Funny
In the Aftermath of Operation Sedate My Mother
Protesting
Escort
How I Got to the Bottom of Things
Realization
December 22–8:32 P.M.