Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Dating & Sex
however, I think I’ll speak up and let
them know I’m lurking here.
HEY, SEAN
,
I type.
SORRY TO HEAR ABOUT YOU AND
CARA. CALL ME IF YOU NEED TO TALK, OKAY
?
I sign off. Get the heck out of there
before I see any more comments I can’t
stomach. For some stupid reason, now
I feel hungry. Freaking stress. A small
shot of sugar should do the trick. One
Jolly Rancher. Watermelon. Twenty-three
point three calories. If I go for a bike ride,
I can treat myself to three. Game on.
Closing In
On April, less than a week away, winter
wants to hang on this year. Late afternoon,
it will be cold once the sun nose-dives
behind the mountain. Glad I wore sweats,
even though they make me look like Blimp
Girl. I’ll ride back roads. Tires pumped up,
I start on flat ground. Have to warm up a little
before heading uphill. It’s been a while since
I pedaled anything, and even in high gear,
my legs start to burn fairly quickly. I like
the burn, like the way my muscles feel
when they contract. I should do this more.
The last time I went bike riding was with
Conner. It was summer, and his tanned legs
were sensational to watch, pumping pedals.
The morning was hot, and once in a while
he would pour water over his head. His long
hair dripped, catching sun, creating a halo.
God, I loved him so much, and the memory
is a new razor blade. Too sharp to feel its slice.
Flat streets segue to a mild incline. I bear
down on the pedals. My breathing shallows.
Pant. Pant.
I think of Conner again, how
we stopped our bikes beneath the big trees
at the park. Walked them into the heart
of the woods, rested them against old pines,
nestled ourselves into the thick needle bed.
The breeze stirred gently, scenting the air
with superheated evergreen. Conner pushed
me back into the cushioned earth, and when
he kissed me, it stole my breath away. Like
now.
Pant. Pant.
We panted then. Together.
The Hill Grows Steeper
And the memory grows deeper with
every breath I pull into my lungs.
For the first time ever, the love we
made was unhurried.
It’s good slow,
he said.
Do you like it this way?
I did
but wondered just when he’d decided
that, and how. Still, I didn’t dare ask
him. Instead I just let him. And when
he finished, he stayed very close to me,
tracing one finger in circles on my skin.
Don’t lose any more weight,
he said.
Don’t you want to look like a woman?
That surprised me too. “I thought
you’d like me better this way.”
He shook his head, rustling the needles.
Don’t believe the hype. Curves are hot.
To The West
The sun hides behind shadowed granite
cliffs. But despite the noticeable drop
in temperature, sweat soaks into the fleece
beneath my arms, and my hair dampens.
Suddenly I am starving, every calorie
taken in today completely expended.
My heart quakes, stuttering in my chest.
Time to turn around. Head home. Downhill.
As I swing the bike across the yellow line,
I feel my face go white, as if the saw-slice
of memory has opened my head, let blood.
My stomach, empty, heaves nothingness.
I begin to shiver. My arms start to shake
and I lose control of the handlebars.
Buzzing. Horrible buzzing. My hands
grab for the brakes. Too late. I’m falling…
Through The Fog
Fog? Where did that come from? No
matter, it’s here, and the only thing
that makes it lift is pain. Jolts of pain.
In my right arm. Right leg. Right side
of my head. I try to move—have to.
I’m in the street. I think. Must move.
But some strange weight holds me
in place.
Don’t move.
Hands test
my body. Conner? No. That was last
summer. My eyes work hard to focus.
The hands belong to a lady. Don’t know
her.
I don’t feel any broken bones, but
you could have a concussion. Stay right
there. I’ll call 9-1-1.
But as soon as she lets
go, I manage a sitting position. “I’m okay.
Please. Can you just take me home?”
Sean
I’m Okay
Everything I’ve believed
in, smashed into the mud.
All I’ve worked toward,
pulverized into dust. But
I’m
okay. Who wanted all that,
anyway? Who needed
an unobstructed road to
a tidy little future, when
really
the fun is in breaking trail
toward some unknown
destination? Any sane person
would say you should
not
put every shred of hope
in one human being, especially
not a girl. The perfect girl,
no longer mine. But, hey, I’m
okay.
Wounded
And I don’t even know what
the fuck happened. Everything
was going perfectly. Graduating
with a high B average? Check.
Playing top-flight baseball?
Check. Offered a scholarship
to play Cardinal ball? Check.
Accepted into Stanford, an
almost impossible goal
to realize? Check. Best of
all, after waiting for a year,
after finding a way to make
sure performance would
not be an issue, being right
there with Cara, both of us
naked and hot and ready
to go, finally having sex
with the girl I love more
than life, only to be accused
of rape? Check. And check!!
I Thought She Was Over It
When she finally called.
Believed she’d forgiven
me. How could I have
been so wrong? About
everything. I thought she
loved me, too. How could
I have given my heart to
someone still-frozen?
Looking back, I see that she
never felt about me the way
I felt about her. Talk about
one-sided affection. What in
God’s name do I do now?
Turn down Stanford? I could
have gone east to school.
Some place far, far away
from Cara. No, damn it.
After all I went through
to get in there, I’m going to
Stanford. With or without Cara.
At Least She Didn’t
Publicly accuse me of rape.
Tomorrow will be a week
since that night, and not
one word has surfaced.
All things considered,
I figured she might, if only
to save face. Reputation
is pretty much everything
to Cara Sykes. And her
standing with the in crowd
has plummeted. Bitch isn’t
the only one who has friends
in high places. In fact, as
of today, she doesn’t have
much in the way of friends.
Period. Maybe I went a little
crazy, posting on Facebook
and stuff. I kind of thought
she might jump in and defend
herself. But no. Not a word.
That pisses me off more than
anything. The fucking silence.
The least she could do is tell
me what the hell happened.
She owes me that much.
The worst thing is, she’s all
I can think about. School?
What’s that? Oh yeah, that
place I used to go where
I actually became
somebody
once I started dating Cara.
Homework? Whatever.
I’ll do enough to graduate,
but why work harder than
I have to? Baseball? Now,