Authors: Kristin Elizabeth Clark
came                back                together
in                              pieces
dragged                    out
        pavement
boots
blood
black.
When I woke up
I'd been 17 for 6 days.
Veronica Says
everything happens
for a reason.
Ever notice how
when something's a cliché
it's 'cause it's true?
Her only brother
died of AIDS
and her husband ditched her
'cause she never could have kids.
Sad, but if all those things
hadn't happened
in her life
she might not of
been there for a kid like me.
She was more than
just a foster mother
who cleaned me up
got me back into school
made me quit smoking (everything)
helped me check out Willows.
She even tried to get me visits
with Frankieâ
till that asshole judge ruled
I was unfit company
for a thirteen-year-old.
In return I gave her
fashion advice (she never took it),
mowed the lawn without her asking,
rubbed her feet.
I was that grateful.
I worried 'cause I knew
I could never pay her back.
        “Don't worry,” she'd say.
        “I know you'll pay it forward.”
I hate
The Sperm Donor
The Asshole Judge
The baseball-cap-wearing pervert
but I'm grateful, too.
Why?
Veronica.
Willows.
The life I got now
and the chance to pay it forward.
Next time Veronica checks in on me
I'm gonna tell her about Brendan.
He's messed up
but I'm gonna find a way
to help him.
(Vanessa)
In the Morning
I'm putting on waterproof mascara
before wrestling practice and
the eyes looking back
at me are tiny.
Sheahan notices,
takes advantage of
my slowness
in the takedowns.
Brendan doesn't come to wrestling
and no one says anything to me
about him.
(BRENDAN)
At Breakfast
I tell Mom
I quit wrestling.
            “I never could go see you
            after that first match.
            It just looked so awful.”
            She shakes her head, like the
            memory will fall out.
            “I was afraid I'd scream terrible
            things at your opponents.”
I'm a little surprised
she's so relievedâ
Is that
really
the reason
she was the only parent
who never came to meets?
Detached,
I mull it over.
Dismiss,
it doesn't matter.
Claude the Interloper
pats her arm
like she's an invalid,
then invites me to get donuts
now that I'm not training.
Just great.
I know he's secretly thinking
I'm a weakling for quitting
days before finals.
(Vanessa)
Brendan and I
must be broken up
even though neither
of us has said so.
                          And how could we
                          when we don't talk?
He takes the bus,
I don't offer him a ride.
There's an empty space
where anger was
and in its place
                          my heart is breaking.
This morning I started to wonder
if it was all an elaborate lie
to trick me into dumping him
because he was too chicken
to end it himself.
And then I saw him
drooping down
the hall
and knew
there's something
really wrong.
I wish I had someone
I could talk to about it.
The Night Before Wrestling Finals
I turn out my bedside lamp
and when I close my eyes
an Erin Bledsoe memory
flashes behind them.
She lived
next door to me
until third grade.
Erin had bunk beds
and on sleepovers
we liked to be
in the top one together.
After popcorn
and a
Princess
DVD
her mother would kiss
us both on the forehead.
And turn out the lights.
It started
just before Christmas.
December break.
Stormy night
howling wind
thudding rain
prevented sleep.
Doctor, nurse,
boyfriend, girlfriend,
soap opera.
The games
built slowly.
Exploring
our bodies
ourselves
each other.
Hello Kitty
days-of-the-week
jammies
panties
discarded.
Touching
never felt wrong
at the time
but daylight
always left me              embarrassed.
We fought
sometimes
over who had
to be the boy
and I search my
mind for any
memory
that I ever
wanted to be
anything but the girl
or that I wanted Erin
to be anything
but the boy.
I can't find it.
There Are Phases
of the moon that
I learned in Science.
Waxing crescent
first quarter
waxing gibbous
full
waning gibbous
third quarter
waning crescent
new.
And, easy to remember,
phases of the seasons.
Spring
summer
winter
fall.
There are phases of life.
When you're a baby
child
teenager
adult.
And these
are all passing;
nothing stays the same.
I'm flopping, turning
in bed. Hot pillow,
no sleep.
Maybe Brendan's thing
is just a phase?
A strange phase. Like me and Erin.
Hard to understand
but maybe he just thinks
he wants to be a girl for now
and in a year
we won't even remember
this phase.
Kind of like
you don't remember
thudding December rain
in the soft touch of spring.
(Angel)
Nerves at the Sight of a Sweet Bungalow
set off from the street.
Sunflower lights
line the walk.
Lord, I'm jumpy as a cat.
Marcus's hand
holds mine tight.
        “Praying?” he asks.
“You know it,” I say.
        He smiles. Cocoa eyes crinkle.
        “They'll love youâ
        just don't mention religion.”
I nod. There's a horde of bees
swarming in my belly
but the roots of my hair
don't tingle.
We're barely on the step
and the screen door flies open.
        “Welcome!” His moms
        are framed in the door.
I almost fall over.
One of 'em's
my English professor.
You never think of your teacher
having a life outside of school.
All four of us exclaim over this
small, small world.
Then we go in,
sit down.
They offer me wine,
I take iced tea.
It feels good
being with someone
who wants to introduce me
to his family.
And it feels even better
that I'm mostly nervous
because we all know
I have a paper due
that I should be home working on.
Just feels a normal
kind of nervous.
One I could get used to.
I Keep Messing Up
Calling one of his moms
Dr. Wolski.
        “It's Kathleen, here, Angel,”
        she says. His other mom,
        Dorothy, nods.
        “Trust me, she gets enough of
        that at schoolâshe'd be
        insufferable if we
        kept it up at home!”
We laugh and talk
through dinner and into the night.
Turns out Dorothy is an administrator
at the hospitalâand she's on something
called an ethics panel.
        “Angel has an ethical dilemma,”
        Marcus says, grabbing another
        homemade cookie off the plate.
        “Tell them about Brendan.”
So I tell 'em about the broken window
and blue envelopes,
and I'm trying not to get worked up
but it's hard.
          “You should absolutely
          call the authorities,” Dorothy
          says. And she takes a sip of wine.
Kathleen shakes her head.
          “I couldn't disagree more.”
          “Why?” Dorothy asks.
          “For one thing, the money he
          sends is a clear sign of remorseâ
          he
is
paying his debt.
          “For another, Angel doesn't know
         Â
why
he broke the windowâthat
          should inform any decision she
          makes.” Kathleen says to me,
          “You should try to find out.”
Dorothy doesn't like that.
          “The reason doesn't matterâ
          actions have consequences.”
And they're off into
a philosophical argument
about crime and the meaning
of punishment.
Disagreeing but not fighting.
It's interesting to hear and
I'm trying to follow them
but it's getting late and
I accidentally yawn.
Marcus takes my hand.
          “Now we've done it,”
          he pretends to whisper.
          “They'll be up
          half the night debating â¦
          Let's go.”
They stop
long enough