The Language Inside (21 page)

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Authors: Holly Thompson

BOOK: The Language Inside
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they drop me off at YiaYia’s

and Sam says

see you next week

or maybe before

and my stomach turns one way

hoping for before

and wishing next week

were tomorrow

but then my stomach turns another way

because in one week

there’ll be just one week more

to my mother’s surgery

 

I actually see Sam

in the hall the next day

pass him when he’s talking

with a group of guys built like him

not so tall but lean, broad-shouldered and muscled

one of them, Jae-Sun, I know from Model UN

and another, Tim, from biology

Sam looks up when I pass

and I say
hey

and he says
hey
back

and from the sound of it after I pass

he’s getting teased

 

this week in Model UN

we’re working on writing resolutions

and practice position papers for our countries

Jae-Sun tells me I’ll probably make the team

to go to the Boston conference at the end of January

and maybe even New York in May

I don’t say anything about how I hope

we’re not living here at the end of January

               and certainly not by May

how I hope we’re back in Japan by then

 

in dance club Tracy

and choreographer Claire

teach us more moves for the jazz routine

we’ll do during basketball halftimes

and it’s harder than I expected

fast and full of leaps and fan kicks

pirouettes and fouettés

I haven’t done in a while

so later, at YiaYia’s

I roll up the rug in our bedroom and practice—

               dark outside, curtains open

               the bedroom window

               as my mirror

 

on Saturday

I start a new position paper

do grocery shopping with YiaYia

work on homework

practice dance moves

start another letter

download new music

do more Model UN

but I’m bored

tired of Venezuela

tired of this neighborhood that’s not near anything

where you have to have a car

even just to get a bottle of shampoo

so I text Sam

and wait

 

I don’t hear from him

till it’s practically dark

when he texts

poetry workshop at Newall

where were u?

2morrow dance practice

now at my mom’s in Lowell

and I text

hey! no one told me about a workshop!

I would have been there!!!

and he texts

sorry! next time

and in fact it’s fine by me that I missed

since I’m really just learning

how to help Zena

but still, I hope Lin

or her sister, Anne

or someone

was there for her

then I’m thinking

dance?

he wrote
dance
?

 

and all weekend I’m wondering

what kind

               hip-hop? jazz? ballroom? ballet?

and why isn’t he at school dance club meetings

with those other two guys?

all weekend long

I’m thinking

hey

 

Sunday morning Mom, Toby and I

go with YiaYia

to her Greek church

as we drive into Lowell

past huge homes that YiaYia says

once belonged to mill owners

across a bridge into the center of town

with old factory buildings and apartment blocks

I’m wondering where Sam’s mother lives

or if I might catch a glimpse of Sam

on the street

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