to go to prison for offing an idiot.
Anyway, he’s welcome to call
the house. Dad is currently in China,
and Mom drove Gram to Davis,
California, for some kind of medical
tests. They won’t be home until
tonight. “May I go now?” Ever so
polite. He nods, and as I leave,
I hear him go straight to the phone,
no doubt to tell our voice mail
about his concerns. Appreciate
your effort, Mr. A. Really, I do. But
Mom and Dad won’t get that message.
I Decide to Skip
My last class of the day. I was
called to the office. Waited an hour.
Was baited for another thirty minutes.
I think I deserve to go home. Besides,
I really don’t want to talk to Tara.
I can just hear Mr. A.’s response
to that. Do you hang out with your
friends? Or are you keeping to yourself?
It’s not that I want to keep to myself.
But Tara will know something’s up,
and if I tell her what’s going on,
she’ll offer some sage advice. I’ve had
way too much of that for one day already.
The empty house welcomes me
with its silence. I check the answering
machine first thing. Yep. A red light
blinks. The first message is from
Mom. We should be home by nine.
Be sure to feed yourself, okay? Damn.
She’s worried about my diet, too?
Message two: Good ol’ Mr. Albert.
Blah-de-blah-de-blah-blah. Delete!
I’m feeling pretty smug, until
I get to the last message. From Alex.
Hey, S. Check your cell voice mail.
When was the last time I did? Absent-
minded. Trouble concentrating. That’s
me. I dig for my cell. Find four calls,
one message, all from Alex. Where
are you? Sorry I haven’t called
for a couple of days, but I’ve been
pretty sick. Thought it was the flu,
but it isn’t getting better. I’m going
in to see my doctor this afternoon.
I’ll call when I have more info.
Love you. Miss you. Everything okay?
God
Beef Broccoli Consumed
I am considering Dad’s alcohol stash when
Alex calls. “Hey. What did the doctor say?”
Well, turns out it’s pneumonia. But not
PCP. Pneumocystis pneumonia would
indicate his T-cell count had dropped way
low. Something that shouldn’t happen,
considering his drug regimen. But there
are exceptions to every rule. So it’s even
more meds for a few days. And no kissing
until the sputum is under control. Lovely.
I tell him to get well and keep in touch.
Then I reach for one of Dad’s bottles.
Something strong to help me forget that
while HIV may be manageable, it’s also
unpredictable. I pour a teacup full of
bourbon. Think maybe I’ll also borrow
one of Mom’s antidepressants. Whiskey
and Prozac. Bet I’ll sleep great tonight.
Alex
I Sleep Great
Most nights. Don’t toss
and turn thinking about
my relationship with time.
What’s the point of
worrying
about something I have
no power over? The old
adage, “Live every day as
if it might be your last”
doesn’t
work for me. I have to
plan a future, or just hang
it up right now. While
there’s no real way to
change
the final outcome, how
I live until I get there
is completely up to me.
And if there’s
one thing
I want people to reflect
on when I’m gone, it’s that
I faced my fate squarely,
never tried to run.
Harley
I’m Running
With a fast crowd and I’m not
sure how I got here. Only something
like three months ago I was a total
loser nerd. I wanted to change
this far. In Carson, I’m getting a rep,
and it’s from hanging out with Chloe.
I like her. But I’m kind of scared
of her, too. She’s fearless, especially
when it comes to risky behaviors.
The kind they warn us about in health
class. Doesn’t stop her, and when
I’m with her, it doesn’t really stop
me. I feel like a different person.
What’s weird is nobody seems to
have noticed. Not Mom. Not Dad.
Not Cassie. Adults get so caught
up in their own problems, they lose
sight of their kids. Keep believing
we’re angels when we’re so not.
When I’m Busy Running
I think that’s good. When I have
time to consider the overall picture,
I still want someone to care enough
to slow me down. The only one who
seems to anymore is Bri. I can’t tell
her everything. She already lectures
me. If she knew about the weed
and stuff, she’d probably disown me.
She doesn’t really like Lucas,
so when we’re together, like now,
I try not to talk about him too
much. The problem is, I don’t have
a lot of other stuff to talk about.
“You’re coming to the wedding, aren’t
you? You’ll die when you see me
in my bridesmaid dress. It’s totally rad.”
What’s so rad about it? Is it tie-dye
or something weird like that?
“Not that weird. It’s scarlet. And short.
And pretty low-cut. Cassie had to buy me
a strapless bra, with major push-up power
to help me fill it out. I found cleavage!”
She laughs. You’ve always had a lot
more of that than I do. Call me flat.
We are in her room, listening to
Pink sing about how she wants to be
somebody else. “Do you ever feel
like that? Like you have to change
everything about yourself to get
where you want to be, or think you do?”
Now she’s quiet. Finally, she answers,
“Think you do” says a lot, you know?
It Does, and So Does Her Response
And I’m really glad that, despite
everything else going on in my life,
she is still here. Still my best friend.
We talk about her—now obviously—
pregnant sister, who plans to stay in
school until the semester break.
Dylan broke up with her. Can
you believe it? And he’s going out
with his old girlfriend again. Jerk.
I can believe it. “Boys are dogs.”
But, sometimes, so are girls. Which
prompts, “What’s up with your mom?”
Bri shrugs. I have no idea. She’s
here, but barely. I know she misses
your mom, though. She needs a friend.
Now I shrug. “My mom’s a prude.
She needs to learn not to judge . . .”
Shit . .
. Shoot. “No one should be judged.”
I Don’t Know
If that’s true. I only know
I wouldn’t want to be judged.
Especially not by my best
friend. Mrs. Carlisle isn’t
perfect. But neither is Mom.
What’s weird is, Bri is
more like my mom and
I am more like hers. Except,
am I, really? Because when
I’m here, goofing off with
Bri, I feel more like the real
me. The Harley who runs
with Lucas and Kurt and
Chloe is a fake. But I’m not
sure how to get rid of her.
If I did, would I get bored
and restless and angry because
everyone would treat me like
a child again? I’m afraid
it’s too late to turn back now.
So, After Mom Picks Me Up
I’ll be going to my dad’s, who
allows me to go out on Saturday
night. Mom would probably croak
if she knew. But he and I made a pact
not to tell her. As long as you stay
out of trouble, there’s no reason
for her to know, is what he said.
But if you get in trouble, I do, too.
I promised to be good, and so far
have managed to avoid any sort of
trouble, although Halloween was close.
Some busybody saw us smashing
pumpkins and called the cops.
Luckily, Chloe knew a couple
of alley shortcuts and we got away.
I thought I’d pee my pants. Instead,
I heaved beer. Not attractive.
Even worse, Kurt took a pic.
When I asked him why, he said,
To commemorate the occasion.
I had no idea what he meant
by that, but the next day when
I signed on to my Facebook,
I saw he had tagged me in a picture.
I couldn’t believe he had posted
that one, with my name on it. You
couldn’t see my face, but you could
pretty much guess what I was doing.
I untagged myself and called Lucas.
“Why would he do that?” I demanded.
“Tell him to take it down! Please?”
Lucas’s first reaction was to laugh.
Ah, come on. It’s just a joke.
Where’s your sense of humor?
Kurt removed it eventually, and
no one I know has said anything
about it. But that was just so mean.
And Lucas thought it was funny.
It’s Late Afternoon
When Mom gets to Bri’s. She comes
into the kitchen, where Bri and I are
helping Mrs. Carlisle chop vegetables
for soup. My hands smell like celery
and onions. Weird, but I kind of like
it. Looks like you’ve got some great
helpers, Mom says. Do you have a few
minutes to catch up? It’s been a while.
Bri’s mom looks pleased. Of course.
It has been a while. Will you excuse us,
girls? The potatoes and carrots need
to be cut up. Something to drink, Andrea?
Mom declines and they go sit at the big
kitchen table in the dining area.
Bri and I keep busy with our knives,
but we both tune into the conversation
on the other side of the room. It is friend
to friend, unstrained, at least at first.
They Start with the Usual
How have you been stuff. Move
quickly to deeper sounding.
Mrs. C.: How is Marissa doing?
Things still good with Chris and her?
Mom: Stable, I guess. But she got
the wild idea to look into in-vitro.
She went through all kinds of tests.
Ultimately, the doctors told her
if she really wants another baby
to consider adoption. I’m not sure
how Chris feels about diapers and
formula and sleepless nights.
Mrs. C.: No kidding. I’m not sure how
I feel about it, either. And it’s coming.
I notice Mikayla hovering silently
on the far side of the doorway.
Mom: So Mikayla’s still set on keeping
the baby? What about the father?
Mrs. C.: Dylan wants nothing to do
with the baby or Mikayla. Yes, she’s
determined to raise the baby on her
own. Although she won’t really be
doing that, will she? She’ll start
Nevada Virtual Academy in January,
so she will be able to graduate. But
after that . . . she has no concrete
ideas about what to do after that.
Mikayla backs away from the door,
and I’m the only one who has seen her.
Mrs. C.: Harley says your ex is getting
married. Is that a good or bad thing?
Mom: Good, I guess. I didn’t care
much for Cassandra at first. But
overall, I think she’s been a plus for
Steve. Not that I’d care, except
Harley’s relationship with him has
improved. Can you believe they
invited me to the wedding? I wouldn’t
even consider it, except Harley insists
I come, to see her in her dress.
She looks over at me and winks.
I just keep peeling potatoes.
Mom lowers her voice, but not
enough so we can’t hear. How’s Jace?
Mrs. C.: Working a lot. Trying to
avoid decisions. Confrontations.
It’s been pretty tense around here.
She doesn’t elaborate and I wonder
if she would if Bri and I weren’t here.
Mrs. C.: What about you? Still dating
that doctor? Total subject change.
Mom: Actually, yes. In fact . . . She looks
at me again. He’s escorting me to Steve’s
wedding. And I just invited him to join
us for Thanksgiving at Marissa’s. Mom
and Dad will be there, so I’m kind of
introducing him to the family. Is that okay?
The question was to me. I shrug.
“If he makes you happy, I’m happy.”
Brianna
Is She Happy?
I swear, Harley used to be
the happiest person ever.
Always smiling. Always joking.
Never worrying about
what
the next day might bring.
Now, she’s so serious,
not nearly as much fun.
And though she says nothing
has happened
to change her, I know that
nothing is named Lucas.
Yet when I asked her if she’s
in love with him, much
to my
surprise, she said not really.
So why does she need to be
with him all the time? Why
does she choose him over her
best friend?
Mikayla
Sometimes You Choose, You Lose
Maybe that’s just the way of things.
I mean, forever, I was a winner.
Popular.
Ace boyfriend.
Great grades.
Decent home.
On my way. Today, I am a loser.
Lost friends.
Lost boyfriend.
Declining grades.
Declining home life,
with parents who can’t get along.
Most of it came from bad choic
es.
Wrong friends.
Wrong boyfriend.
Wrong night,
wrong time of the month
not to insist on a condom.
I can’t fix my parents, of course.
But I can rethink becoming a parent myself.
I Suppose, Sooner or Later
Pretty much everyone who is on
their way hits a dead end at some
point. Has to backtrack. Detour.
Choose an alternate route.
But how many people nose into
a brick wall and have to stay
there, no foreseeable way out?
Because that’s where I am now.
I can see no way out for nineteen
years, give or take. I’m not quite
eighteen myself yet. How can I
dedicate more years to my baby
than I have experienced? I’m not
afraid of changing diapers or losing
sleep for late-night feedings. I’m scared
I don’t have the tools to teach her
what she needs to know. I’m scared
I won’t be able to give her necessary
things. I’m scared of messing her up
because I’m pretty messed up myself.
Still, Every Day
With her inside me, growing
into a real baby, becoming
more and more human,
makes her more and more
my child. Every time she
moves, kicking and pushing
and turning somersaults
against the swelling balloon
of my belly, our connection
deepens. I’ve started to think
about names. Amanda. Jasmine.
Claire. I’m looking into Lamaze
classes. Mom says I’m nuts,
that they invented epidurals
for a very good reason. But I kind
of want to go natural if I can.
To give the baby the best possible
start. Because after that, who knows?
Dad Being a Lawyer
He insists that Dylan must take
responsibility for child support,
whether or not he wants to.
Once the baby is born, you must
establish paternity. Dylan can
volunteer to take the test, but if
he refuses you can get a court
order to make him. Dylan is
the only possible father, right?
I should be insulted, I guess.
But on the other hand, it’s a fair