Y’all skipped school without me?
Sorry, CJ, I say.
It’s not like you would’ve come with us, Skinny says.
True, but a girl likes to be asked.
I can’t wait for gym today. We’re playing ball, and I’m showing up and showing off.
You’re always showing off, Skinny. You’re a ball hog.
Am not.
Charlie, what’s the difference between Skinny and time? she asks.
I don’t know, CJ, I say.
Time passes, she says, and
I laugh
so hard,
I almost spit out
my chocolate milk.
In preschool
CJ would
knock down
my ABC blocks
then take them
and spell
words
nobody recognized,
sometimes not even
the teachers.
One day
she spelled
FRIENDS,
then pointed
at me.
We’ve been
tight as twins
ever since.
Things I Think About in Gym Class
Why don’t they have air conditioning in our gym?
Why does Skinny pull his socks way up past his knees?
CJ jokes on Skinny a lot.
My dad said that when a girl picks on you, it means she likes you.
I hope Mr. Johnson doesn’t call on me to play in this stupid game.
Unlucky
Mr. Johnson
picks me
to play
in the first game.
The ball feels
heavy
and strange
in my hands.
I stand there
dribbling,
listening
to my name
being called
over and over:
CHARLIE, PASS THE BALL!
I stand there
wishing.
Wishing
I was . . .
Lucky
Midgame,
the fire alarm
goes off.
I drop
the ball
and we quickly
line up
to exit
the gym.
Chills
We haven’t had a drill since before
Christmas, so when the fire trucks
arrive with their ghostly
sirens, I start sweating,
shaking, and feeling
sick in my gut
like it’s the
ninth of
March.
Yo, Charlie, you all right?
Everything blurs.
My ears ring
with the sound
of sirens
and Skinny screaming,
HIT ’IM ON THE BACK!
and CJ screaming back,
HE’S NOT CHOKING, STUPID!
I feel my face boil
and then a geyser
of peanut butter
and chocolate milk
shoots out
all over
the sidewalk
in front of
my whole class.
Use your magnet on that, CJ, Skinny says,
which kinda makes me laugh,
even though
I really wanna cry.
Queasy
Thanks for coming with me to the nurse, guys.
We’re the Three Amigos, that’s how we roll, Skinny says.
The Two Amigos plus one Amiga, CJ corrects.
I feel a little better now.
It was probably the chocolate milk that messed up your stomach. It tasted like it had a fizz.
It wasn’t the milk, CJ says.
You don’t know that, CJ.
The brain and the stomach are tightly linked. Studies have shown not only that the mind has an effect on the gut, but—
Speak English, girl, Skinny says.
When you get real nervous, your brain sends a signal to the stomach. He’s probably still thinking about what happened. Aren’t you, Charlie?
. . .
CJ, for somebody with book sense, you don’t have any common sense. We’re not supposed to talk about that, remember?
Sorry, Charlie.
. . .
After School
The note
on the refrigerator
that reads
Had to work a second shift
at the hospital. Finish your homework.
Dinner’s in the oven. Put your dishes away,
then call your grandmother
and say happy birthday. And
don’t forget to put the trash out.
Love, Mom
is like an invitation
to fun
and freedom.
I mean, I know
she didn’t say
I could go
outside and play,
but she didn’t say
I couldn’t either,
plus we finished
our tests last week,
and, with two days left,
the teachers don’t
really give
homework
anymore.
After not eating
the meat loaf
and baked potato
and broccoli,
I call Skinny
but he’s at the court,
so I ring CJ
to see
if she wants
to play video games
or walk the block
(or study, I guess)
but She’s not home,
her dad reminds me:
She’s on an overnight trip
to Columbia University
in New York
to be interviewed
for junior inventors camp.
So I read.
An hour later,
my doorbell rings.
Nine times.
Conversation (at my front door)
Heard you were looking for me.
Just seeing if you wanted to hang out.
We were at the court.
Y’all win?
We didn’t finish. We were losing, then Ivan got in a fight, he says, pointing to the end of my driveway, where his older cousin, Ivan, stands.
Oh.
Come on, Skinny, or I’m leaving you! Ivan hollers from the street.
Hey, Charlie, me and Ivan are going to the store. C’mon, go with us.
Nah, I gotta stay home.
We can get some Now or Laters.
I used all my money on comics.
I got you.
Maybe, but we gotta be quick. My mom gets home soon.
Hey, Charlie, can you run in those busted sneakers?
Ivan hollers.
Huh? Yeah, I can run, I say to him, grabbing my key and shutting the front door.
Just come on then, punk, he says, grinding his teeth like a pit bull.
Ivan
used to be
pretty cool
and fun
to be around
till he started
smoking
and hanging out
with a group
of delinquents
he met
in juvie.
On our way to Quik-Mart
Ivan the Terrible stops
at the fence
behind
Old Lady Wilson’s.
Why are we stopping? I say. She could be watching us.
She’s asleep, punk.
Ivan shares
his theory
that old people
take naps at five o’clock
every day
right before dinner,
so they
can stay up late
and watch
The Johnny Carson Show.
That’s stupid.
H
e’s right, Charlie. My grandparents nap. The old guy next door to us naps.
I been casing this joint for weeks, y’all, Ivan says.
He’s been watching too much TV, I say to Skinny, who nods.
I got a plan. Y’all know those bottles she keeps in those boxes on her porch?
Yeah, Skinny says.
Once a month, some guy comes and picks up the boxes, Ivan continues.
Yeah, so?
Last month he didn’t come, so there’s two months’ worth of boxes out there.
And?
The Quik-Mart pays ten cents a bottle.
SO YOU WANNA STEAL HER SODA BOTTLES?
Shhhhh! You’re gonna blow our cover.
I’m not stealing nothin’. Especially from Old Lady Wilson. She’s got a shotgun.
That’s a rumor. Plus, she’s asleep. Now come on let’s do this, Skinny says.
I’m not stealing those bottles.
Charlie, stop being a wimp. She’s not gonna miss those bottles. The guy probably doesn’t even bring her back the money. We can get some Funyuns and a Slurpee.
Good luck, I’m outta—
But, before I can say
no again,
Ivan says,
Come on, Skinny,
and takes off
like a ninja
with Skinny
right behind him.
They grab
the boxes,
run back
toward me
yelling
RUN! RUN, CHARLIE!
So I run,
and don’t stop
until
we get to
the Quik-Mart.
The Loot
We cash in
sixty-two bottles,
then I head home
with my loot,
making sure
to take
the long way
to avoid
loaded shotguns.
Interruption
I’m almost done
reading about shape-changing
aliens trying
to conquer the earth
when Skinny calls.
Yo, that was kinda fun, he says.
Yeah, for you maybe, I answer.
Whatchu doing?
I can’t really talk, Skinny, I say, wanting to get back to my comic. I’ll see you tomorrow, Skinny.
Nope, you won’t, he says.
You skipping again?
Nah! Got caught bouncing my ball in the hallway. In-school suspension.
Dag.
I drift off
finishing
issue #2,
where the Skrulls
impersonate
the Fantastic Four
and wonder
if that’s what’s happening
to me,
’cause I just don’t feel
like myself.
Alarm
Instead of
the sound
of music
I wake to
the sound
of my mom
growling
and staring
at me
with the eyes
of a tiger.
WAKE UP, CHARLIE!
Huh?
She cuts
the lights on.
It’s like a super laser beam
aimed right at me.
WAKE UP, I hear her screaming.
Wha—what’s going on?
What’s this? she asks, holding up an empty bag of Funyuns.
What’s what, Mom?
I found this in the trash.
The trash? Can you cut those blinding lights off, please?
GET. UP! she screams again, this time pulling the covers off me.
MOM, it’s like four-thirty. In the morning.
IF YOU WANT TO MAKE IT TO 4:31, YOU BETTER TELL ME WHAT THIS IS!
. . .
Interrogation
I’m waiting.
It was just Funyuns, I say, wishing I had remembered to put out the trash.
It wasn’t JUST Funyuns. I made your favorite meat loaf, but I come home to find dinner still in the oven, two dozen candy wrappers and this junk food in the trash can that I know I asked you to put out. I know this, because it’s on the note I found in the trash can.
. . .
Where’d you get the money from?
Money for what?
For the dinner you got from Quik-Mart.
Huh?
Charlie, don’t mess with me. I asked you a question.
I had it left over from lunch.
That’s a lie. You just asked me for lunch money two days ago, remember? You took lunch, so what’s the deal, Charlie? Tell me the truth, or else.
Or else what? I say, wondering how that slipped out.
And wishing it hadn’t.
Trouble
I remember
my father spanking me
when I was little,
but the most
my mother ever did
was raise her voice.
Until now.
Her hand
is like
a razor-sharp claw
about to slice
the air lightning fast
in the direction
of my face,
but I duck
before the blast
almost rips
my head off.
The Truth
OKAY, OKAY, Mom, I say, frantically. I kinda
borrowed some
Coke bottles
from Mrs. Wilson
and returned them
to the store
and used the refund
to buy snacks
and I’m sorry,
REALLY, REALLY, SORRY,
Mom,
and I’ll never
do that again
is what I say.
Put on your clothes and come downstairs is what
she says, real soft-like,
then walks out.
Dead Man Walking
I put on my shorts
and hoodie,
prepared to
mop the kitchen floor,
clean the garage,
or whatever punishment chore
she’s figured
will make me a better person
and whatnot,
but when I get downstairs
she’s got on her jacket
with a purse
on her arm
and the front door is open
and she’s standing
on the other side
of it,
looking as mean
as a prison dog,
like she’s about to
escort me
to death row.
The sky looks
silvery blue
and lifeless
at FIVE A.M.
and just when
I get up the nerve
to ask her
why we’re walking
beneath it—about
twenty steps
from my house—
I find out.
I. Find. Out.
THIS. CAN’T. BE. HAPPENING!
She makes me knock
and right before
my knuckles hit
the front door
for the third time
it opens
swiftly
my teeth clench
and I pray
there’s not a witch
or a warlock
or a woman
with a shotgun
on the other side
of the door.
A very big dog
marches toward me,
head down,
and I move, fast.
Hide behind
my mom.
He almost knocks
us both over, then
sniffs us,
till wicked Old Lady Wilson
calls him back.
She doesn’t look so scary
in her pink housecoat
lopsided wig
and the false teeth
she fumbles with
before putting them in her mouth,
smiling as wide as the sea,
and saying Come on in, Charlie Bell
like she’s been waiting
for me.
Mrs. Wilson, we’re not going to stay, my mom says. Like I said on the phone, my son has something he’d like to say to you.
I do?
Thought
Her house
smells
like a cross
between grass
when it’s just cut
and Skinny
after gym class.
Musty.
Great Dane
Her dog is
a zebra—painted white
with black patches—
and HUGE.
She rubs him,
tells him
to sit, and
he’s about to
when
the whistling teapot
startles him,
and he interrupts
my Sorry for stealing your bottles apology
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