it’s ridiculous, but I glance around.
Nope, no discernable spies. Good
thing. Mick and I are taking off at lunch.
We probably won’t eat much.
(No sandwiches, anyway.)
So if I do head back to class
afterward, it will be in an altered state.
Self-medication firmly at the top
of my agenda, I blow through
Lawler’s history quiz, put my
pencil down, and sit staring out
the window, waiting for the bell.
A black shape materializes in the sky,
wings slowly through the mist. Buzzard?
No, as it nears, I see it’s a condor.
Some kind of omen there. As I
consider exactly what kind,
someone taps my shoulder. I wheel
around. Finished? asks Mr. Lawler.
I nod and hand him my paper, and
when I look into his gold-flecked
green eyes, I think for about
the hundredth time what a fine
guy he is. As if I had said it out
loud, he smiles. You may go, then.
I smile right back. “Thanks. See you
tomorrow.” I pick up my books, stand
with deliberate grace, and as
I walk toward the door I feel
eyes on my back, know at least one
pair belongs to him. Men are so easy.
I Stop in the Girls’ Room
For a quick pee and to redo my makeup.
The bell finally rings. Within seconds,
the lunch rush madhouse erupts.
Hurry up! What the fuck?
Hey, you, come here!
It’s the same every day. Same voices.
Same laughter. Same lame people
I’ve known most of my life.
Got a smoke? Got a Tic Tac?
Did you hear about…?
I hustle along the walkway, mostly
ignoring the waves and hellos of
people I rarely give the time of day to.
…got the lead… …made honor roll…
Ian’s looking for you.
Ah, see, they’re confusing me with
Kaeleigh. Sometimes I think that’s
funny. Other times, it just annoys
the living crap out of me. Guess that’s
what comes of sharing a wardrobe,
not to mention a face. Oh, well.
At least Mick won’t confuse me
with her. She wouldn’t go near him.
He’s much too much like Daddy.
Both of them are tough outside.
But dig down under the skin,
there’s a soft, gooey core.
Auger into that core, like tapping
a maple, you’ll get doused
with incredibly sweet sap.
It’s a lot of work, work that
Kaeleigh could never appreciate,
because she doesn’t like maple
syrup anyway. But I do. I love
it. And if Daddy would just stand
still for me, I’d happily tap his core.
Mick’s Sexy
Chevy Avalanche, with slate gray
paint and silver leather seats, idles
in a far corner of the parking lot.
Two years out of school, he isn’t
really supposed to be here.
But he generally comes running
when I call. He likes what I give him.
I like what he gives me, too,
and I’m mostly talking about
the bud. I pick up my pace because
right under his front seat I know
there’s a fat, stinky joint
with my name on it.
Okay, Mick’s name is there too.
It’s his dope, after all.
But he’s always happy to share.
Of course, he expects compensation,
and after smoking a big ol’ doobie,
I’m generally willing to cooperate.
Life has gotten better—or at least
more bearable—since I was introduced
to my good friend, marijuana.
You couldn’t have a more decent friend.
I love everything about it.
I love the way it smells—good green
bud, anyway, and that’s the only
kind Mick gets. I guess his brother
knows a Humboldt grower. Okay,
the pot smells a lot like skunk juice.
But somehow, there’s a difference.
A good one.
I love the way the thick smoke
tastes, curling across my tongue,
snaking down my throat. I love
holding it in. Coughing it out.
I love head rushes, the creeping
warmth that follows.
And I love the distant place
it takes me to. Everything feels
right there. Mellow. Easy.
Stress-free. I even love the munchies,
the perfect excuse for devouring a pint
of Häagen-Dazs. Of course, afterward
I have to go stick my finger down
my throat. Don’t dare get fat.
Daddy would not like that.
Mick and Marijuana
Await me. I’m ready to pay
Mick’s going rate for the pot.
(And I’m not talking money.)
Some people would balk
at the price tag.
Not me.
You might think, because
of the things I’ve seen
Daddy do, I’d be disgusted
by sex. No way.
I like it.
I like how it feels physically,
yes. Kisses, hot and prickly
as August. Hands, tan
and rough against my soft
white skin. And the last, extreme
punctuation.
I get off.
But getting off myself
isn’t the best part. I do
everything in my power
to make sure
he gets off.
And that puts me indisputably
in control. (He thinks otherwise,
and I let him.) It’s the only time
I am in control. And I like
how that feels
most of all.
Kaeleigh
Call Me Powerless
Yeah, I know on first glance
I have it all. Looks. Money.
Straight As. Leads. Popularity.
I’m a regular princess, right?
Not me.
The final bell rings and I dash
for my locker, hoping no one
offers me a ride home. Some
people despise the bus, but
I like it.
Yes, it’s mostly freshmen
and losers, and I fit right in.
Anyway, no one bugs me
with questions or invitations.
I am practically anonymous.
Too soon, brakes screech and
I get off
a few blocks from home. The walk
is usually silent. But today Ian’s
Yamaha rips around the corner.
It slows, stops, and I wait as
he gets off,
sheds his helmet, draws near.
Have you been avoiding me?
I have, and I struggle to meet
his eyes. When I finally do, I find
concern. Pain. Anger. And love,
most of all.
Ian Is My Best Friend
He has loved me since
fourth grade. I would trust
him with my life, and all
my secrets but one.
Soooo…have you?
I wish I were worthy
of his love. (Any love.)
I should tell him to run.
But I can’t. I need him.
Ahem. Hello?
He deserves to be loved,
by someone really great.
He’s gorgeous, in an artsy
way. No ego. All heart.
Earth to Kaeleigh…
All heart and waiting for me
to respond. “I…um…Sorry,
I’m a million miles away.
What did you say?”
Ah, the old “million miles
away” excuse.
His smile holds the warmth
of the sun, and when he
opens his arms, I plunge
deep between them. “Sorry.”
For what? Oh, you have
been avoiding me, huh?
His body is toned, and he smells
yummy, like some kind of spice.
I look up into eyes, the turquoise
of the Caribbean. “Sort of.”
I always said I liked your
honesty. Still…
“Not avoiding you in particular.
More like everyone, kind of.
Sometimes I get antisocial.
You know that, though.”
Yeah, I do, but I’m not
exactly sure why.
“I must get it from my dad.
Can’t be from Mom, the world-
class go-getter, hand shaker,
and baby kisser.”
I don’t think a judge
should be antisocial.
Can’t talk about my father.
Too much to say that can’t
be said. I pull away from Ian’s
hug. “You’re probably right.”
So, may I walk you home?
Or would you rather ride?
“Two blocks? Think we can
walk it. But hey, if you be
really, really nice, I’ll let
you give me a ride to work.”
Deal. Being nice to you is easy,
even when you try to avoid me.
This Huge Part of Me
Is so happy Ian won’t let me avoid
him, won’t let me push him away.
What I don’t understand is why not.
I mean, girls hit on him all the time.
Over the years he has gone out
with a few. But he never gets serious.
I know he wants to get serious.
He’s definitely not a player, not
a poser, not a loser, not a user.
Ian wants deep down forever love,
love he knows he can count on.
And that so sets him up for hurt.
Last year he and Katie were an item
for several months. After he broke
up with her, I asked what happened.
We were on the hill behind
his house, soaking up April sun.
Katie’s great, he said. Pretty. Sweet.
“So what, then?” I asked, knowing
the answer but wanting to hear it.
(And realizing how selfish that was.)
He turned his face away from me,
into the spring breeze. She’s great,
he repeated. But she’ll never be you.
Then he looked straight into my eyes.
I love you, and I know you know how
much. I also know there’s something
that keeps you from loving me back.
What is it, Kaeleigh? Is it me?
Because I swear I’ll change….
“No! It’s not you. Oh Ian, you’re
the absolute best. If I could love
anyone, it would be you. I want…”
The rest, the “to love you” stuck
like a giant wad of gum in my throat.
Ian pulled me into him, held me close.
Please! he pleaded. And then he kissed
me. Gently. And I kissed him back,
but only for a second because suddenly
all I could see was a featureless
face, with a wide, sour mouth
coaxing, Please, baby. I won’t hurt you.
Fear enveloped me, clasped itself
around me. I couldn’t shake
free, struggled to find breath.
Still seeking air, I jerked back.
I will never forget the look on
Ian’s face, contorted with my pain.
What the fuck is it, Kaeleigh?
Whatever it is, don’t leave it
inside. Someday you’ll implode.
Trembling, eyes burning, I reached
for his hand. “I know. I only hope
you won’t have to clean up the mess.”
I Still Haven’t Imploded
Though, I have to admit,
sometimes (maybe even often)
I wish
I would. Wish I could
just get it over with. But it’s
not going to happen right
this moment
so I’ll go to work instead.
Arms tight around Ian’s waist,
cool October wind in my face,
I truly wish the power of his love
could eclipse
the overwhelming shame.
He deserves someone better
than me, someone pure. Worthy.
The shadows
bend long toward evening
as the Yamaha quiets to a stutter.
A cloud of regret boils up,
rains sadness down all
around me
a strange desire grips me. I can
do this. Want to do this.
I steel myself against the specters
always haunting me,
gather all my inner strength,
softly kiss the promise of his lips.
Raeanne
Promises Are Meaningless
Mom: I promise I’ll be home soon.
Mick: I promise I want only you.
I wish
they’d both take a one-way
elevator to hell! Okay, I’m used
to my mother’s lies. Right at
this moment
it’s Mick whose bullshit
is pissing me off. Yeah, I guess
I’m a total dumb-ass for believing
the thought of being with me
could eclipse
his testosterone-fueled flirtations.
I mean, at lunch, I could hardly
wait to be with him. I sprinted
toward his truck, out of
the shadows
and into the bright autumn
glare. And there, leaning into
his open window, was that bitch
Madison. Jealousy squeezed
around me,
choked off my scream. Too much
to let myself dwell on, like visions,
always haunting me,
of Kaeleigh and Daddy.
Madison Happens to Be
Mick’s ex, the operative two
letters being e and x. Why
can’t she just leave him
alone? She’s totally
wrong for him. Anyway,
it was her decision for them
to break up. A very good decision.
First of all, Mick’s out of
school. Graduated, bottom
of his class, two years ago.
Madison is the type who needs
a guy on her arm at school,
someone to flaunt, someone
cute she can order around.
More to the point, the only
drugs Madison will likely
ever do are steroids. She’s
a total mainstream jock.
Softball team. Swim team.
Golf team. If it means creaming
an opponent, she’s all over it.
Could be why she’s hustling
Mick now. When he was up
for grabs, she couldn’t care
less about scratching his
figurative itch. All it took
was his hooking up with me,
and out came her stubby claws.
Well, mine are a whole
lot sharper, though she
doesn’t seem to realize it.
Just wait till I dig them
into that sun-toughened
jockette hide. Then it won’t
matter if I can’t scream.
She’ll Scream Loud Enough
For both of us, and I do look forward
to that. Ooh. Was that mean? Maybe.
But hey, I’m sick and tired of playing
passive. No, I’ll leave that to Kaeleigh.
Kaeleigh, queen of passive, all the time
saying no, but not strong enough
to mean it. Not strong enough to fight.
Not anywhere near as strong as me.
I have to say I rather enjoyed verbally sparring
instead of retreating. Once I finally caught
my breath, I climbed up into the Avalanche,
slid across the seat, almost into Mick’s lap.
He turned (not quite quick enough, but it
was what it was), grinning. ’Bout time you
got here. I almost took off without you.
Unsaid words hung like a heavy curtain:
Without you. And with Madison. I pretended
not to hear them, not to get mad at them.
Ignoring Ms. Jock completely, I looked straight
into his eyes. “Really? And miss out on this?”
Then I kissed him. Hard. Wet. Sharp stabs
of tongue. My fingers drifted in between
his thighs, finding exactly what they expected.
Madison gave a little gasp. “Oh,” I said. “Sorry,
didn’t mean to offend you.” I laughed. Mick
joined me, then said, That’s my cue. See ya, Mad.
She Was Mad, Okay
Madison puffed up red, venomous
as an adder. Holy crud. I’ve never