Girls Like Me Read online

  Kara sucks? Kelly Canyon is evil? And

  Shay Summers misses her dad’s

  Bass-filled laugh

  Knock-knock jokes

  I

  A R

  Guitar?

  She misses them

  So much she can hardly breathe . . .

  Still

  If I am to become a writer most revered

  I guess I better step up my work

  Then again, I’m sure Shakespeare would not have spent his whole time

  Writing Romeo and Juliet if he had had a cell phone

  He’d just text the story and it would get forwarded to

  All his friends

  Incoming text from William S.

  yng luv c-ks 2 bl@hsum @Mung sAvG

  vyl3ns & d!scrd. <3rs r34uZn 2 b

  Prtd, 4loh thAr

  H@rtz on2 a tR@gC fA+3

  (Young love seeks to blossom among savage

  Violence and discord. Lovers, refusing to be parted, follow their

  Hearts on to a tragic fate)

  I Was Headed to Lunch When I Saw the Poster

  With innocent letters gathered on page

  To form a profane phrase: Halloween DANCE

  Word spreads. Excitement builds.

  Only question asked:

  Who asked you to the dance?

  A question no one will ask me, certain

  No one has asked me

  Busy anyway

  Books to redevour

  DVDs to rewatch

  Tiles to recount

  Solitaire to play

  Stupid. Cruel. Useless. Letters. Forming words to spite me.

  Longing to shout, “I am going to the dance with Blake.”

  Blake Harrison: God.

  Master. King. Sultan.

  Of all things hot. Cool. Sextastic.

  Able to render me

  Motionless. Mute. Mortified.

  (If caught stealing a glance)

  He walks freely inside the pages of

  Textbooks. Notebooks. Journals.

  Rescues me without

  Super strength. Cape. Theme song.

  Simply with his

  Walk. Smile. Eyes.

  So . . .

  Shock! Defy! Announce!

  Blake Harrison, my date.

  Yes, it would be a lie.

  Still . . .

  It’s a pretty lie.

  It sparkles when the light hits it just right

  See there?

  Right there, it gleams

  My lie: more valuable than

  Their truth

  Their truth: ugly

  Cold. Jagged. Rocks.

  Cutting into me, making me bleed

  But my lie?

  She is a gift. A gift so beautiful

  Must be allowed to live!

  The lie dances out of my soul

  And charges into their world

  Blake Harrison asked me to the dance!

  Lie leaps into air, bounces off walls, slides down doors

  Falls flat on ground.

  No one reaches to save her.

  No one hears her cry out

  Run over, pick her up

  She’s bruised. Broken.

  She’s dull now

  Even in my light

  Kelly Canyon walked by

  The disappointment on my face warmed her

  Like Mama’s apple pie

  How Did the Canyon Come to Be

  My mortal enemy?

  It all came down to chocolate milk

  Lawson McGee had

  Red hair. Green eyes. Great smile.

  And

  Extra chocolate milk

  At age twenty

  Jewelry says: love

  At five, it’s chocolate milk

  Lawson McGee handed

  It to me and not Kelly

  Since then I have been

  On her radar

  I mostly avoid her

  But like any demon she has

  Powers

  A swarm of dark birds

  Descend

  Notifying her that I’m feeling

  Crappy

  Kelly Is

  Pimple on prom night

  Kelly is

  Text message to wrong person

  Kelly is

  Period. Blood. White skirt.

  Dread in its true form

  She Leaves Me Gifts

  Stuffed pig with built-in

  “Oink”

  In my locker

  On my chair

  In my backpack

  How Do I Thank Her?

  Tears. Tears. Tears.

  Surely she’s tired of getting my

  Thank-you cards

  It’s Said That

  She and Blake belong

  Together

  Gods and goddesses

  Often do

  Yet Zeus

  Seeks only a passing friendship

  With her sound and fury

  Preferring the company of cool breezes

  A Moment

  After she embarrasses

  Me

  A moment

  After she destroys

  Me

  On her face there

  L I V E S

  Utter peace

  Kelly Acted Like a Person One Day

  Someone died, someone she loved

  Grandmother

  I think

  Kelly

  Looked small

  Shrinking Inside

  I gave her a gift by

  Walking by

  Inhaling food

  She

  Made rude comment

  She got

  B I G G E R

  And

  I began to fade

  The Day

  Is half over. Thankfully. I have been trying to

  Stay cool and avoid

  Dash and Boots

  As soon as they remember

  What tomorrow is, they’ll

  Worry

  I may break down

  They’ll text throughout the day

  Asking stupid but vital questions

  Best friends have to ask

  Are you ok? they’ll say.

  Tomorrow is one-year anniversary

  Of my dad’s death, and since he’s still

  Dead, I am not okay.

  At Lunch

  I take the path less traveled to get to the cafeteria

  (They knew I would)

  They wait for me by the door

  I smile

  Too much.

  I look like a walking Crest commercial

  “Girl, you know you have to talk to us,” Dash says

  Boots looks at me with sadness.

  “Boots, you know the rules: Only tumor girls get

  Sympathy head tilts. The rest of us get hard candy

  And five-dollar gift cards to iTunes,” I remind her.

  We sit at the table

  I say that I’m fine even before they ask

  Dash hands me his prized possession:

  Embroidered handkerchief with the names of every

  Project Runway winner

  Since Season One

  I burst into tears

  I hate that they know me so well . . .

  Once the Tears Came

  Getting them to stop?

  Impossible

  I missed rest of my classes, huddled up in the girls’ bathroom

  Until the bell rang, then off to the library

  The school library

  Has been my friend since The Cat in the Hat

  I wanted to jump inside each and every book when I was a kid

  Dad said if I was good he’d let me jump

  Into Green Eggs and Ham

  When I turned five, he gave me a

  Green Eggs and Ham
party

  Including green eggs and ham

  The librarian knows me by name

  I spend lots of time in here

  Too much, Dash says

  The library was near empty

  The quiet life-saving.

  The Quiet

  Was still so loud inside my head

  I replayed the day I found out my dad died

  I wanted to stop the film in the beginning

  ’Cause I knew how it ended . . .

  The News

  That Dad died came

  From a telephone call from Kara

  I hate it when she calls me

  I almost didn’t pick up

  Why, oh why, didn’t I send her

  To voicemail?

  She Told Me

  To come home ASAP

  I thought we were in for another bonding night

  I looked for

  Rope. Arsenic. Knife.

  Something, anything, to end my life.

  I had lived fourteen years; that was enough.

  Could not handle any more bonding

  No court in the world would force me to

  Hang with

  K A R A

  Smiled as she worked out

  Called everyone “sweetie”

  Put a line through her 7s

  Like the French do.

  So, the good old USA

  Was not good

  Enough for her

  She was an awful woman.

  Yet something in her voice

  A quiet sob? A shaking?

  Once Home

  I felt something was off

  Everything looked the same but something had changed

  No, they found out I’m about to fail

  Math

  Damn it!

  Entered kitchen, found her

  Sitting in corner, crying

  Please, please, let it be about math . . .

  Although

  She had borrowed

  A handful of words from neighbors

  And placed them at my feet

  Car. Speed. Head.

  Docs. Tried. Dad. Dead.

  SCREW HER!!!

  For placing these lies near me

  I’m calling Dad

  He’ll fix everything.

  I Threw Things

  At Kara

  I

  Swore. Begged. Cried.

  She would not

  Take words back.

  Dad would not

  Pick up cell.

  Everyone

  Failed me

  How Could He Leave Me?

  We had plans

  Plays. Movies. Concerts.

  He said he’d help me with

  Math. Science. Life.

  I could just kill him

  What Did I Do?

  What words did I

  S T R I N G

  O

  G

  E

  T

  H

  E

  R

  That made him go away?

  Crying is pointless

  ’Cause it won’t bring him back

  And that makes me cry . . .

  The Sun Came

  Up in the

  East

  Down in the

  West

  The clock

  Ticked

  The clock

  Tocked

  The mailman

  Brought

  Us

  Mail

  Man . . .

  Guess they don’t know

  He’s gone.

  Dad’s Funeral Happened

  The same day as my favorite

  TV show.

  I went up to my room to catch it and

  Escape the chorus of

  “I’m so sorry for your loss”

  “He was a good man”

  “He will always be with you”

  She came to

  MY ROOM. Said

  I was being rude

  Excuse me for having skipped

  The “etiquette” chapter of grieving.

  She thought I was being mean

  I was

  That’s what happens when half of you

  Is underground

  The Next Few Days

  Kara and I

  Held on to each other

  She made me tea. Her hands were too shaky to pour.

  The water grew cold. Eventually so did things

  Between us.

  When Dad was alive he

  Measured. Mixed. Marinated.

  Like a chef

  (In his

  Mind)

  ACTUALLY

  Everything Dad made: burned

  Then Kara came

  Offered to cook all the things

  We SHOULD like

  She changed him

  His marriage changed me

  I

  Became

  TEEN MONSTER

  She became

  TEEN MONSTER SLAYER

  He became

  PEACEMAKER

  Had a picture in her head

  Of what family would be like

  My family, her head

  She pictured me

  Thinner

  I pictured her

  Gone

  Dad made olive branches

  For us to extend to each other

  Instituted (mandatory)

  Movie Night. Game Night. Girls’ Night.

  All

  Hell Night

  At first, Dad’s death made: bridge

  But time reveals truth: Kara and I are

  Strangers with

  Different pictures of what happy looks like

  She hates that I am not hers

  I hate that she is not mine

  Dad

  Measured. Mixed. Marinated.

  Like a chef

  Everything Dad made: burned

  Dad’s death made: bridge

  Everything Dad made:

  Burned . . .

  They Find Me

  Dash and Boots

  I knew they would

  They try to cheer me up

  With dirty joke about hookers

  Peanut butter and rope

  I wonder what would happen

  If they put their imaginations to

  Good productive use

  They want to hang

  Just to have fun, they say

  Really it is to keep an eye on

  Me

  They worry I will

  Feel lonely and bad again

  If left to myself

  Truth is I have been

  Lonely in

  Crowds

  Lonely

  In the middle

  Of conversations

  There is no

  Escape

  Tomorrow will come

  And so will

  The blues

  Dash makes one last

  Plea.

  Says we can go to revival of

  The Rocky Horror Picture Show

  He wants us to come with

  So he can have someone’s hand to squeeze

  When the beauty of

  Tim Curry is too much to bear

  Boots says she will go

  Only if free large popcorn w/drink

  Is involved

  Friendship comes at a price

  And today it’s $9.50

  Boots Reminds Me

  I promised I would check out Firetrash.com

  A site originally created by nerd lovers from our school

  But is now flooded with non-Trekkies

  Boots stays on there for hours

  Discussing important subjects

  Does Stewie have a crush on Brian?

  Has Gene Roddenberry’s dream

  Been fully realized?
<
br />   And where, oh where, can she find

  The Rocky Horror Picture Show

  On Blu-ray?

  I only said I would go there because she held my burrito

  Hostage last week.

  Because of my love for

  All things sour cream and cheesy

  I have to go online and

  Face the White Noise

  She promises she will be online later and we can talk

  I point out that we can also pick up a phone

  Dash adds that I am the only person on the planet

  Who does not have a Facebook account

  Facebook

  A public record of all the friends

  I don’t have . . .

  I Agree

  To check it out

  Easier

  Than arguing

  She says it has everything:

  411 on best tattoo places

  Deals on sci-fi gear

  Total access to all things Lost

  I could have pointed out that

  Lost is off the air

  But that’s like pointing out

  Edward Cullen is a killer

  Sookie and Bill Compton don’t belong together

  Elvis is not coming back

  Some people cannot process

  The truth, and hell

  Why should they have to?

  Truth takes apart

  Everything in its path

  As I Make My Way Home

  A grayness crawls from the soles

  Of my feet

  Slides up my legs, thighs, stomach, and chest

  Think of something

  Chase it away

  How? How?

  Ben & Jerry’s just up the block.

  Salvation . . .

  There Is God

  In ice cream

  Don’t let anyone tell you different

  Americone Dream. Chunky Monkey. Cherry Garcia.

  Heaven in three scoops

  How can something so divine

  Be right here on earth?

  Don’t question

  Eat. Eat. Eat.

  Till nothing hurts

  After heaven everything else

  Is hell (AKA home)

  Home

  Is a minefield

  I avoid hot spots, try and make it to my room

  First scurry past kitchen

  Where Kara watches healthy cooking show

  Run past Dad’s bedroom

  Fight the urge to peek in and call out his name

  Still think he’s in there somewhere . . .

  Rush past hallway closet where

  His running sneakers sit foolishly

  Waiting for him

  Some Days

  I can make it past every trap and enter my room

  A whole girl

  Some Days

  A sharp pain rips me from the inside: I make it to my room

  In pieces

  Some Days

  I have to close my eyes so I won’t see all the places he used to

  Exist

  Some Days

  I can’t take my eyes off the last things he

  Touched

  Some Days

  I rage against his ghost for not going away

  Some Days

  I weep at the thought that his ghost might fade

  Consolation

  Comes in the form of a greasy

  Brown bag

  I carry

  Into room