Identical

by Ellen Hopkins

  He Hasn’t Asked

  For a kiss since I was small.

  If he wants, he takes.

  The passive demeanor has me

  totally creeped out, but I am

  not fooled by it. This

  is no request. It’s an order.

  I wipe my mouth carefully,

  go over to Daddy, who

  waits, an impatient monarch.

  I reach up to kiss the plump

  of his cheek, but he

  turns his face straight on

  to mine, and our lips meet.

  His mouth is wet,

  hungry, and he kisses me

  like no father should and just

  as I think I’ll retch,

  Mom’s footsteps click-click

  on the hall tile, coming toward

  us. Daddy withdraws.

  There’s my beautiful little flower.

  We Are Still Very Close

  When Mom enters the room,

  queen to Daddy’s king.

  The caterers want a deposit.

  I have to—She takes in the scene

  suddenly. Doesn’t like what she

  sees. Uh…is everything all right?

  Like she wants to hear the truth—

  yeah, Mom, just making out with

  my father. “Everything’s fine.

  I just had something in my eye.”

  Her relief at the obvious lie escapes

  her lungs in an audible sigh.

  Speaking of escape, I can make

  mine now. “I’ve got to finish

  getting ready for school. See

  you this afternoon, okay?”

  I can’t help but look at Daddy,

  who wears arrogance like aftershave.

  Don’t be late, little girl. I’ll

  be here, waiting for you.

  I Exit the Kitchen

  Dash up the hallway, and barely

  make the bathroom before three

  mountainous bowls of cereal

  come pouring from my belly.

  Stomach acid roils into my mouth,

  bitter as the spit on Daddy’s tongue.

  The thought brings a round of dry

  heaves. Once my stomach stops

  convulsing, I scour my teeth and gums,

  rinse with Listerine to kill the germs.

  I dare to look in the mirror. “Tell,”

  urges the girl on the far side of the glass.

  “Tell. Or run.” But she knows me better

  than that. Knows I won’t do either.

  All Hope Dissolved

  I catch the bus, sit in the very front

  seat, where I know no one will join

  me. I lay my head against the cool

  window glass, stare at the nothing

  beyond, try to shut out the noise.

  Everyone here has parents. Maybe

  not together parents, and maybe

  some are substitute parents. But

  no one has parents like mine.

  I’m a complete freak, and so alone.

  I was a total fool to ever believe

  that someone could save me,

  or thaw the frozen death inside

  me. Oh Ian, if only you could,

  I would run away with you today!

  The brakes squeal and the bus

  coughs up diesel, and as the next

  group boards, I notice a Chevy

  Avalanche drive by. It’s Mick.

  And glued to him is Madison.

  Fine by Me

  Although at least one person

  I could name will probably

  not be happy about this reunion.

  But, hey, if it means Madison

  will leave me the hell alone,

  more power to Mick. Poor guy.

  The bus pulls curbside at school,

  and I’m the first one off. I go

  straight to my locker, half hoping

  I won’t see Ian. The other half

  needs desperately to see him.

  But the bell rings, Ian-less.

  I zombie walk between classes,

  sit through hours of lecture

  without hearing a single word.

  Finally it’s lunch, and there’s

  Ian, by the library. I start to wave,

  think about running into his arms,

  lifting my face to his for a kiss.

  But then his face morphs into Daddy’s,

  and I duck into the bathroom.

  Safe in the Far Stall

  I wait for the bell to ring,

  picking at a scab or two.

  The one on my ankle is recent.

  I open it wide, encourage

  the flow. It’s like milking

  venom from my veins.

  Wonder how long it would

  take to bleed out completely.

  Other girls come and go.

  Talking. Laughing. Sniping.

  A couple dare light up

  cigarettes, and I almost

  ask for a drag. Filling my

  lungs with nicotine gas

  just might take the edge off.

  But the last thing I need

  is to get busted smoking

  in the bathroom at school.

  Think what my suspension

  would do to my parents’

  spotless reputations. Secondhand Marlboros will have to do.

  I’m Watching Blood Drip

  Onto a wad of TP when my cell

  signals a text message coming.

  Ian, of course. R u ok? Saw

  u run in2 the bathroom. I’m

  w8ing 4 u to come out.

  Looks like I’ll have to oblige.

  Can’t hide in here forever.

  Into the bowl goes the bloody

  tissue. One mighty flush. So long.

  Would be nice to so easily get rid

  of all of life’s varied detritus.

  My fingers are tinted with blood.

  I go to the sink, drawing a horrified

  stare from the freshman standing

  adjacent. “Bloody nose,” I explain.

  She accepts the explanation.

  Hate when that happens.

  Excuses. Excuses. So many excuses.

  Too bad mine always seem to work.

  With Everyone, That Is

  Except Ian. When I offer

  the bloody nose pretext,

  he assesses me head to foot.

  Really…, he says. Did you clean

  up your nose with your pants?

  What are you, triple-jointed?

  I glance down, find one leg

  of my white jeans striped

  a dark shade of crimson.

  My face flares a matching

  color. “Oh, that. I cut myself

  shaving this morning.”

  He pulls me into him. Be more

  careful, okay? Don’t want

  you to bleed to death.

  His sincerity, and the warmth

  of him dispel every little bit

  of doubt. Okay, maybe not

  every single bit. My heart

  says I’m so, so his. But, asks

  my head, is he so, so mine?

  So, So Mine or Not

  I agree to let him drive me home

  after school. It’s a long afternoon

  until the final bell releases me from

  Monday PE and the usual locker-room

  drama. Madison wears “smug” like sun-

  block, greasing her face to an oily gleam.

  What she doesn’t seem to get is

  it doesn’t bother me one little bit.

  Once a bitch, always a bitch,

  with or without a boyfriend who has

  drunk a six-pack or eight too many.

  Psychic says: Train wreck on the horizon.

  Ian is waiting for me, and I push

  all thoughts of Daddy away as I lean

  forw
ard to kiss him. Oh, yes. This

  is what a kiss should be. Not wet.

  Not hungry. No ego here. It’s all

  about me. I intensely love this guy.

  He takes a roundabout route home,

  stops down near the river. Okay,

  it’s mostly a dry river, but who cares?

  My heart races, exhilarated at the ride

  and at the possibility of what might

  come next. Now. Tomorrow. Beyond.

  Ian Kills the Motor

  Drops the kickstand, takes off

  his helmet, and I eighty-six mine.

  He reaches for my hand, leads me

  across the sand. Finally

  he stops, turns to me. I expect

  a kiss. Instead I get words.

  I know you have to get home,

  but I really think we need to talk….

  So much for tomorrow.

  What can I say but, “Okay.”

  This is not at all going

  where I predicted it would.

  You know I’ve loved you for

  a long time. To believe you

  might love me back is all

  I’ve ever wanted….

  Words spew, an eruption

  of emotion. “I do, Ian, I do

  love you. I know I haven’t

  always acted like it, but—”

  Shush. Let me talk. Now I need

  more from you. I need to believe

  you trust me enough to not keep

  secrets. To share your secrets.

  Here it comes. Cold, bitter

  panic, rising up like stomach

  acid did just this morning.

  “What do you mean?”

  He pauses. Kisses me gently.

  I’m scared for you, Kaeleigh.

  You’re losing weight. And, are—

  don’t get mad—are you cutting?

  Every instinct cries out to

  deny, deny, deny. “No, I…”

  It might feel good to confess.

  “Things are stressful right now.”

  The not-quite-confession riles

  the protector in him. You can’t

  cut, Kaeleigh. Please. If you

  need help, I’ll find it for you.

  “No!” No damn help, because

  they’d want to know the whys

  behind what I do. “No. I’ll be

  all right, as long as I have you.”

  Then you have to promise

  not to cut, and if you think you

  have to, you’ll call. He kisses

  the promise out of me.

  Almost Home

  Ian cruises slowly up the block.

  I want to tell him, “Keep going.”

  And going. I know it’s impossible,

  but how amazing it would be to

  just keep driving until we found

  somewhere safe for the two of us

  to settle down, merge into one.

  As we pass Hannah’s, I happen

  to notice the front door swing

  open. Just inside is a familiar

  form, standing very close to

  Hannah. (Just like in the kitchen.)

  The thought makes my skin

  crawl. And then he bends to kiss

  her. (Just like in the kitchen.)

  Before I can twist my head away,

  dig it into Ian’s back, Daddy

  turns, preparing to leave. And our

  eyes meet in a moment of mutual,

  instantaneous recognition. He

  knows who it is beneath this

  helmet. And I know how he

  has spent this frigid afternoon.

  The House Is Crazy

  With activity. Odd, to see

  Mom so animated, here

  at home, so much more

  the way she used to be.

  Holding court in the living

  room, she gives directions

  regally. Wonder if she notices

  her nose, tilted so far skyward.

  Delivery guys move furniture,

  set up chairs, a buffet table.

  Maids-for-a-day vacuum, dust,

  wash windows, scrub floors.

  Some rental place sets up

  a wall-sized flat-screen TV.

  If all this energy would focus

  on the polls, Mom couldn’t lose.

  Daddy isn’t far behind me

  through the door. Despite

  a house full of witnesses,

  his hands pounce on my

  shoulders, spin me to face

  him. Haven’t I told you no

  rides with young drivers?

  And who was that, anyway?

  Spit Pools

  At the corners of his mouth,

  and his eyes betray insanity.

  If we were alone, I’d be frantic

  with fear. But we’re not. And

  I hold

  an amazing trump card. I yank

  myself from Daddy’s grasp.

  “That was Ian. I’m sure it

  means nothing to you, but

  he and I have been friends

  forever.

  That’s right, Daddy. I do have

  a friend or two, despite you.”

  His pupils go black with rage.

  But suddenly I feel brave,

  in

  control. It probably won’t last

  long, but for once, I’ve got

  as much power as he does.

  The house quiets as I continue

  my

  taunting monologue. “Of course,

  we’re not nearly as good friends

  as you and Hannah seem to be.”

  Think I went too far. He’s flat

  trembling

  with fury. And I know if he

  could get away with it, he’d

  reward me with the back of his

  hand.

  Raeanne

  Holy Effing Moly

  What got into Kaeleigh?

  Has she totally lost her mind?

  Still, the (not real high) estimation

  I hold

  for her just rose a notch or two.

  Kaeleigh retreats as Mom snaps

  out of her state of shock, hustles

  Daddy back into their bedroom.

  The shouting match seems to take

  forever

  to fire up, but when it does,

  it’s a doozer. Even from here,

  my ears are ringing. The cleaning crew

  ignores the hoopla, returns to work

  in

  a matter of seconds. But the delivery

  dudes seem completely unable

  to move stuff without direction.

  I decide to take matters into

  my

  own hands. “Ahem. Can you

  please put that table over there,

  under the window?” Beyond

  the glass, autumn leaves are

  trembling

  in the November wind. It’s all

  going to tumble down soon.

  And I’m ready to give it a

  hand.

  The Afternoon’s Drama

  Sent us all to our separate corners.

  He Picked Up

  With some trepidation.

  Caller ID totally busted me.

  Uh, hi. Uh…I should tell you, me

  and Madison are a thing again.

  “I know. I don’t want to hurt

  your relationship….” Oh no,

  not at all! “It’s just I really need

  to get my head. Please? I’ll make

  it worth your while.”

  The greed factor works every time.

  Oh. Okay, just so you know. You know?

  Was I ever really with this guy?

  “Hey, no problem. I promise

  to be the perfect lady.” Just stoned.

  Give me fifteen minutes. But hey.

&n
bsp; Promise not to tell Mad, okay?

  Fuck. Whatever. I made my voice

  real sweet. “Oh, I’d never do that.

  But I do miss…oh, you know.

  It was always so good with you.”

  He’s on his way. And I’m…

  Out the Window

  Cutting through the sea of fog

  like an orca on the hunt.

  I don’t have to wait long before

  headlights find me in the mist.

  I climb up into the Avalanche,

  dive immediately under the seat

  without even saying hi. Not nice.

  I find the tray, start to roll. “Hi.”

  Mick looks at me, laughs.

  Okay, then. So where to?

  Translation: Exactly how will

  you make it worth my while?

  Not like that, m’ dear. For all

  I know, you’ve got Madison on you.

  “Don’t care. Just drive. Not through

  town. And please don’t speed.”

  OMG. How long has it been since

  I’ve filled my lungs, held it in,

  dropped way down low behind

  a hedge of “who gives a fuck”?

  A Half Hour Later

  Mick and I are somewhere

  out Foxen Canyon, totally