Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Oh. Been expecting that call.
Hurry and change. You don’t
want to be late for school.
The Jeans Rub My Cut
And painfully so, but the pain
reminds me that I’m still
alive, still in control
of at least one
thing.
Right now I need to feel more
in control, so I stash my
hippie clothes deep
in my book
bag.
Daddy is still on the phone.
I call “good-bye,” rush
out the door, down
the street, after
the bus.
I can see the flash of its tail
lights, breathe its greasy
exhaust, but I
can’t catch
up to it.
I watch it swing wide, onto
the highway and up
the hill toward
school. Now
what?
Behind me, I hear a well-
tuned car and know
without turning
it’s Daddy’s
Lexus.
He Pulls Up
Not quite scraping the curb.
The window lowers, and I wait,
expecting a hot wave of anger.
Instead his eyes sweep over
my body, assessing. He catches
something he doesn’t like.
Much better, except for your
hair. Take them out.
Take what out? Oh, the braids.
I do as instructed. Wait again.
That will do. Now get in. Why
didn’t you wait for me?
“You were still on the phone.
I thought I could catch the bus.”
I settle into the plush warmed
leather, unworthy of its comfort.
You know I hate disobedience.
I hope it won’t happen again.
“I’m sorry, Daddy. I was just
trying to save you the trouble….”
His head snaps in my direction,
and his hand flashes toward me.
It takes all my willpower not
to flinch, not to bloat his anger.
His fingers catch my cheeks,
pinch until my mouth opens.
I’ll decide what is or isn’t trouble.
You just follow orders. Understand?
Drool dripping from my open
mouth, all I can do is nod.
His hand falls away from my face,
and stress falls away from his.
That’s my girl. You’re the one
person in the world I can count on.
After That
He pulls carefully away
from the curb, turn signal
doing its obligatory thing.
To the casual observer,
I know,
we are quite a picture.
Judge Gardella, dashing
in tailored navy blue,
and his teenage daughter,
pretty
in pink angora. But what’s
underneath that sweater
is the antithesis of normality,
however that word
is defined.
And hey, when it comes
to abnormal, I can only
be one-upped
by
the man driving the car. What
would the neighbors think if they
could look through our windows,
beyond the closed curtains, and see
what’s inside?
School Drags Today
Not that it’s ever exactly exciting,
with the possible exception
of Lawler’s history class.
I know
it’s terribly warped of me
to spend an entire block
thinking about what’s tucked
behind the man’s zipper. Oh yeah,
pretty
damn sick, okay. But at least
I’m not bored. Right now I’m
in English, trying to figure
out how the word “faggot”
is defined,
other than by a homophobe.
We have to do a paper about
how English has been bastardized
by
popular culture. But, much
like Kaeleigh’s door, the cover
of a dictionary is not particularly
something I want to open to see
what’s inside.
I’m Trying to Avoid
Exactly that when Shelby
taps my shoulder.
Look.
Outside, clearly framed
by the window glass,
my best and dearest friend
Madison sidles up to Ian.
A deep shade of anger
blossoms beneath my skin.
Screwing around with Mick—
and so me—is one thing.
Messing with Ian is something
else, something unforgivable.
I can’t believe I’m standing
up for Kaeleigh, but I so am.
I raise my hand. “Excuse me,
Mrs. Finch, but I feel sick.
May I go to the rest room?”
Clearly unwilling to invite
diarrhea or vomit, she waves
me out the door.
I Have No Real Right
To play stand-in for Kaeleigh, but
she wouldn’t have the nerve to do
what needs to be done anyway.
Sorry, twin o’ mine, but it’s true.
I watch from a short distance
for a minute or two, trying to size
up the situation, head to toe. Or
maybe boob to chest is more apt.
Not a millimeter separates Ian’s
T-shirt from Madison’s blouse.
In his defense, I will say Ian looks
immensely uncomfortable.
As I start toward them, he sees
me, and his demeanor shifts
from complacency to sheer panic.
Oh darlin’, you just wait.
At the terrified look in his eyes,
Madison turns to face me. Smiles.
Oh, girl. That is so not the way
to deal with this. I’m ready to rock.
But since I’m supposed to be
Kaeleigh, I’ll notch it back
to something more like passive.
At least for the moment.
As I Move Closer
The tenor of the scene changes
yet again. Madison remains
possessive, of course. It’s Ian
whose body language alters.
I had expected contriteness.
Instead he seems unmovable,
despite the certain emotion
betrayed by his eyes: hurt.
Okay, what did that bitch tell
him? All thoughts of Kaeleigh
tossed aside, I move faster toward
the two of them. With
obvious intent. Madison’s smile
falls from her face and I know
she has read the message in
my eyes: Get the fuck
away from him! She does, too.
But not far. She’s a total player,
and all in all, a worthy opponent.
Oh, hey. Hope you don’t mind
my borrowing Ian’s ear. I was
just asking him to vote for me
for junior class president.
OMG! She’s got to be joking.
“Oh, really? Brave of you to
run…” I leave the obvious
message hanging. Think better
about letting her off so easy.
“I’m sure Ian is smart enough
to vote for the best candidate,
though.” Then I move between
them, turn to face Ian’s sad eyes.
“May I talk to you for a minute?”
His response is unexpected.
He levels me with his dark
gaze.
Not right now. I’m late
for an appointment with my
guidance counselor. Later.
And off he stalks, leaving
Madison and I standing here
together. We both stare
after him, nothing left to say
to each other. We both know
exactly what the other thinks.
Maybe That Wasn’t
Such a good move. Then again,
maybe it was. Hopefully I at least
managed some sort of damage
control. Then again, maybe not.
I wonder what she said to Ian.
Well, it still isn’t really my business.
And right now my mind is wrapped
around Mick, who’s supposed to pick
me up during third block. Spanish.
Uh-huh, I’m ditching. Oh, well.
I stand on the side of the gym,
where hopefully no teachers will
notice me, waiting to do one
more wrong thing. Okay, several
wrong things, all at once.
I can’t help but think about Ian,
and I can’t help but wonder
what I can do to shut Madison’s
big mouth once and for all.
It’s a quandary, needing a fix.
Maybe getting my head will
fix it. I sometimes believe I think
best when I’m the most loaded.
Probably just wishful thinking.
But hey, here comes my ride.
Once Again
My escape is successful.
Once again
Mick greets me with an
uncomplicated
Hey.
Once again
he points the Avalanche
away from town, heads
into the countryside.
Once again
he leaves it to me to roll
and light a fatty. Has it only
been a few days since I last
indulged this not-so-bad habit?
Once again
we engage in easy sex,
hardly a word exchanged
between us. We are so not
about conversation, and only
body-to-body communication.
Once again
we clean up the obvious,
straighten our clothing, pop
a few breath mints, and start
back toward school. Only
this time, Mick’s erratic driving
draws unwanted attention.
He Announces the Problem
With a most eloquent
Holy fucking shit.
It is then I notice the flashing
red and blue lights coming
up fast behind us. Holy
fucking shit is right.
Down go the windows,
nothing obvious about that,
but the damn truck smells like
a den of promiscuous skunks.
Mick doesn’t have a choice
except to pull over.