Authors: Ellen Hopkins
I Can Hardly Wait
To get to school today,
something totally new, and
all because of Ian. He takes
the edge
off my pain. In fact, for once
I don’t feel like fighting pain
with food. For once, I feel
like I might crawl beyond this place
of darkness,
the place I’ve called home
for as long as I can remember.
I jump out of bed, start to dress,
and my bubble of optimism
is
burst almost immediately.
Down the hall, Mom and Daddy
are into it already, scratching
at each other like alley cats.
Where
did their own love go? Why
did it have to die and suck me
down into its shallow grave?
Guess I’ll go shave my legs,
then scope out the pantry.
I am
famished, after all.
I Am on My Third Bowl of Cereal
When Daddy comes into the kitchen.
His eyes wear “pissed” and when they
fall to my mouth, stuffed with Shredded
Wheat, irritation grows to outrage.
What the hell are you doing?
He can’t know how many bowls
I’ve downed, and I haven’t made
a mess of the table. I swallow a major
mouthful. “What do you mean, Daddy?”
You look like a regular pig.
Good. I’m glad he thinks I look
like a pig. Still, his words sting
and my eyes start to water.
“I’m just having some cereal.”
Ladies don’t stuff their mouths full.
I’m not a lady and don’t want to
be, but Daddy’s spoiling to fight
with someone weaker than Mom.
“Sorry. I won’t do it again.”
That’s more like it. Now give me a kiss.
He Hasn’t Asked
For a kiss since I was small.
If he wants, he takes.
The passive demeanor has me
totally creeped out, but I am
not fooled by it. This
is no request. It’s an order.
I wipe my mouth carefully,
go over to Daddy, who
waits, an impatient monarch.
I reach up to kiss the plump
of his cheek, but he
turns his face straight on
to mine, and our lips meet.
His mouth is wet,
hungry, and he kisses me
like no father should and just
as I think I’ll retch,
Mom’s footsteps
click-click
on the hall tile, coming toward
us. Daddy withdraws.
There’s my beautiful little flower.
We Are Still Very Close
When Mom enters the room,
queen to Daddy’s king.
The caterers want a deposit.
I have to
—She takes in the scene
suddenly. Doesn’t like what she
sees.
Uh…is everything all right?
Like she wants to hear the truth—
yeah, Mom, just making out with
my father. “Everything’s fine.
I just had something in my eye.”
Her relief at the obvious lie escapes
her lungs in an audible sigh.
Speaking of escape, I can make
mine now. “I’ve got to finish
getting ready for school. See
you this afternoon, okay?”
I can’t help but look at Daddy,
who wears arrogance like aftershave.
Don’t be late, little girl. I’ll
be here, waiting for you.
I Exit the Kitchen
Dash up the hallway, and barely
make the bathroom before three
mountainous bowls of cereal
come pouring from my belly.
Stomach acid roils into my mouth,
bitter as the spit on Daddy’s tongue.
The thought brings a round of dry
heaves. Once my stomach stops
convulsing, I scour my teeth and gums,
rinse with Listerine to kill the germs.
I dare to look in the mirror. “Tell,”
urges the girl on the far side of the glass.
“Tell. Or run.” But she knows me better
than that. Knows I won’t do either.
All Hope Dissolved
I catch the bus, sit in the very front
seat, where I know no one will join
me. I lay my head against the cool
window glass, stare at the nothing
beyond, try to shut out the noise.
Everyone here has parents. Maybe
not together parents, and maybe
some are substitute parents. But
no one has parents like mine.
I’m a complete freak, and so alone.
I was a total fool to ever believe
that someone could save me,
or thaw the frozen death inside
me. Oh Ian, if only you could,
I would run away with you today!
The brakes squeal and the bus
coughs up diesel, and as the next
group boards, I notice a Chevy
Avalanche drive by. It’s Mick.
And glued to him is Madison.
Fine by Me
Although at least one person
I could name will probably
not be happy about this reunion.
But, hey, if it means Madison
will leave me the hell alone,
more power to Mick. Poor guy.
The bus pulls curbside at school,
and I’m the first one off. I go
straight to my locker, half hoping
I won’t see Ian. The other half
needs desperately to see him.
But the bell rings, Ian-less.
I zombie walk between classes,
sit through hours of lecture
without hearing a single word.
Finally it’s lunch, and there’s
Ian, by the library. I start to wave,
think about running into his arms,
lifting my face to his for a kiss.
But then his face morphs into Daddy’s,
and I duck into the bathroom.
Safe in the Far Stall
I wait for the bell to ring,
picking at a scab or two.
The one on my ankle is recent.
I open it wide, encourage
the flow. It’s like milking
venom from my veins.
Wonder how long it would
take to bleed out completely.
Other girls come and go.
Talking. Laughing. Sniping.
A couple dare light up
cigarettes, and I almost
ask for a drag. Filling my
lungs with nicotine gas
just might take the edge off.
But the last thing I need
is to get busted smoking
in the bathroom at school.
Think what my suspension
would do to my parents’
spotless reputations. Secondhand Marlboros will have to do.
I’m Watching Blood Drip
Onto a wad of TP when my cell
signals a text message coming.
Ian, of course.
R u ok? Saw
u run in2 the bathroom. I’m
w8ing 4 u to come out.
Looks like I’ll have to oblige.
Can’t hide in here forever.
Into the bowl goes the bloody
tissue. One mighty flush. So long.
Would be nice to so easily get rid
of all of life’s varied detritus.
My fingers are tinted with blood.
I go to the sink, drawing a horrified
stare from the freshman standing
adjacent. “Bloody nose,” I explain.
She accepts the explanation.
Hate when that happens.
Excuses. Excuses. So many excuses.
Too bad mine always seem to work.
With Everyone, That Is
Except Ian. When I offer
the bloody nose pretext,
he assesses me head to foot.
Really…
, he says.
Did you clean
up your nose with your pants?
What are you, triple-jointed?
I glance down, find one leg
of my white jeans striped
a dark shade of crimson.
My face flares a matching
color. “Oh, that. I cut myself
shaving this morning.”
He pulls me into him.
Be more
careful, okay? Don’t want
you to bleed to death.
His sincerity, and the warmth
of him dispel every little bit
of doubt. Okay, maybe not
every single bit. My heart
says I’m so, so his. But, asks
my head, is he so, so mine?
So, So Mine or Not
I agree to let him drive me home
after school. It’s a long afternoon
until the final bell releases me from
Monday PE and the usual locker-room
drama. Madison wears “smug” like sun-
block, greasing her face to an oily gleam.
What she doesn’t seem to get is
it doesn’t bother me one little bit.
Once a bitch, always a bitch,
with or without a boyfriend who has
drunk a six-pack or eight too many.
Psychic says: Train wreck on the horizon.
Ian is waiting for me, and I push
all thoughts of Daddy away as I lean
forward to kiss him. Oh, yes. This
is what a kiss should be. Not wet.
Not hungry. No ego here. It’s all
about me. I intensely love this guy.
He takes a roundabout route home,
stops down near the river. Okay,
it’s mostly a dry river, but who cares?
My heart races, exhilarated at the ride
and at the possibility of what might
come next. Now. Tomorrow. Beyond.
Ian Kills the Motor
Drops the kickstand, takes off
his helmet, and I eighty-six mine.
He reaches for my hand, leads me
across the sand. Finally