by Nikki Grimes
He shrugs. “That’s different,” he says.
“Why?”
“Because, you know. You are.”
I argue.
“I’m the same me
I’ve always been.”
“No,” says Jake, shaking his head.
“Now, you’re—”
“A girl?” I finish for him.
“Exactly!” he says.
“Big whoop!
I’ve always been a girl, Jake.”
“I know,” he says. “But now
you look like one.”
I drop a dish back in the sink,
send bubbles flying.
“Yeah, well,” I tell Jake,
“get over it!”
Just Like Old Times
The old Caden is back,
him with his nose in a book
or sketching every time
I turn around,
while I’m busy
slamming the backboards.
One Saturday, Dad says,
“It’s a beautiful day out there, son,”
like Caden can’t see that.
“Don’t you want to go play ball?”
Caden shakes his head,
carefully shading
the face he’s just drawn.
“No thanks,” he tells Dad,
who immediately
starts to frown.
“Joylin plays enough
for the both of us.”
Lonely Lobes
One morning
I wash my face
then study my reflection
trying to figure out
what’s missing.
I pull my hair back
and there’s the answer.
I run to my parents’ room,
bang on the door, and yell,
“Mom! I need to get
my ears pierced!”
I hear her whisper,
“Finally!”
Pierced
My new twelve-carat
gold studs gleam
even in the fake glow
of the lunchroom lights.
They sparkle and scream
“Look at me! Look at me!”
At least, they’d better
since every time
I turn those stupid things
to help keep the holes open
until they completely heal,
I feel the burn.
Studs
I jog onto the court
dribble back and forth
to warm up while I wait for Jake.
He sneaks up behind me
and steals the ball.
He’s all ready to play
till he looks at me
and catches a flash of gold.
“Earrings, Joy?
You’re wearing earrings now?”
“So?”
“You never wear earrings,” says Jake.
“It’s no big deal,” I say.
Jake palms the ball and stares at me.
“I know why you’re doing this,” he says.
“Doing what?”
“The earrings, the hair, the lipstick.
It’s all about Santiago.”
“I don’t know
what you’re talking about.”
I can play dumb
with the best of them.
“I see the way you act
when he’s around,” says Jake.
“You suddenly start
messing with your hair
and pulling on your clothes
to make sure they’re straight.”
Jake doesn’t usually talk much,
so when he does, his words hang heavy.
I jog in place, impatient
to change the subject.
Truth or consequences
is not my game.
Besides, I can’t talk to Jake
about Santiago.
He’d only laugh.
I smack the ball out of Jake’s hand.
“Are we gonna play or not?”
Jake shakes his head,
snatches the ball,
and drives it to the hoop.
It’s all ball and no talk after that,
which suits me just fine.
Doubt
Time for school photos again.
I clutter my bed
with outfit rejects
and turn to KeeLee for
a little assistance.
“Who are you?” she asks me.
“And what have you done
with my friend?”
“What do you mean?”
KeeLee sighs.
“You used to know exactly
what you wanted
to wear
to do
to listen to.
But these days,
you can’t even choose
what to eat for lunch.”
I shrug, like it’s no biggie,
except she’s right.
At least, I think she is.
Or maybe not.
I can’t decide.
School Photos
Flash those pearly whites.
Pretend you’re a movie star
except for the zit.
It’s Not What You Think
Mom comes in from work,
catches me watching
Sex and the City again.
She snatches the remote
and switches the screen to black
before I can blink.
“You’ve got no business
watching that show,” she says.
“I’ve told you that once before.
What do you find so fascinating
about that show, anyway?”
I keep the answer to myself
so she won’t laugh.
She’d never guess
that it’s all about the shoes.
I keep wondering
how those girls
manage to walk
in those shoes,
and how on earth
will I ever learn?
Behind Closed Doors
I shuffle into the kitchen
one morning
and catch Caden
bent over his drawing pad.
Hearing me,
he slams the thing shut
(think diary,
minus the lock and key).
“Is that Dad’s portrait?”
I ask.
“Quiet!” Caden orders.
“Or you’ll spoil the surprise!”
I back off, hands in the air
showing surrender,
but I’ve got to laugh.
I could say
“Hey! It was my idea
in the first place.”
But I don’t
because that would be
immature.
Homework
I.
Doing homework at KeeLee’s
can be lonely.
She’s faster than me
and usually gets bored
waiting for me to finish
so we can just hang out.
She says she doesn’t mind, though,
especially since we don’t
get to see each other as much
as we used to.
Today when she’s done
she jets to the kitchen
for a snack.
A few minutes later,
I decide to take a break
and join her,
my mouth watering
at the thought of chips.
But I guess
they’ll have to wait.
KeeLee’s been busy
painting her nails.
She blows on them,
then flashes her fingers
in my face.
“You like?” she asks.
I nod, then stare down
at my own nails,
jagged and dirty.
Not pretty like KeeLee’s or Glory’s.
> Not the kind of nails
a certain boy would notice.
Before I can think about it too long,
I hold my hands out toward KeeLee
and say,
“Do mine!”
II.
KeeLee lets me sort through
her stash of nail polish colors.
One is called “Iridescent Black.”
“You’re kidding me!” I say
“What?” asks KeeLee.
“Your dad lets you wear this?”
“Why wouldn’t he?”
“Well, I just thought—”
“Let me guess: You just thought
a pastor’s kid
can’t wear black nail polish.
Or say ‘butt.’ Or wear heels.
I get it,” snaps KeeLee.
I whisper, “Sorry,”
then wait
for Hurricane KeeLee
to pass.
III.
KeeLee sets out
the base coat and polish,
giving herself a minute
to calm down.
She opens the first bottle,
grabs my left hand,
and works in silence.
One coat is finished
before she speaks again.
“Sorry,” she says.
“It’s just hard sometimes
fighting to be myself.
I get so tired of people
putting me in a box
’cause I’m a pastor’s kid.
And the thing is,
God doesn’t even care
about stuff like
what color nail polish I wear,
and neither does my dad.
He cares about me,
what kind of person I am inside.”
Nails still wet,
I risk giving KeeLee
a monster hug.
“I know what kind of person you are,”
I tell her.
“The best.”
Quick Question
I’m losing a game to Jake,
his five shots
to my two.
Out of the blue,
he asks,
“You and KeeLee
ever talk about me?”
“Why?”
“Just wondered,”
says Jake,
stealing the ball
while I’m distracted.
I ignore his casual tone.
If he’s got KeeLee
on the brain,
there’s more than wondering
going on.
I let it go,
for now.
Practice
The house quiet,
I leave my door open
certain I’m alone.
I walk back and forth
across my room,
flashing my shiny blue nails,
trying to swish my hips
like I’ve seen other girls do.
I’m pretty sure I’ve got it,
but I decide to try one more time
for good measure,
which is right about when
I catch sight of Caden’s reflection
in my mirror.
He’s standing in the hall,
grinning,
shaking his head.
I slam the door shut wondering
how long it would take
my parents to notice
if I just accidentally
shoved my brother
over a cliff.
Birthday Dinner
Birthday cake ablaze,
Dad blows out the candles
keeping the wish to himself
if he made one.
Caden’s wish is no secret.
He slides his thin present
across the table and waits,
jaws clenched so tight
I hear them squeak.
I whisper a prayer for him
then say, “Come on, Dad!
Open it already!”
He finally frees a frame
from the wrapping
and stares down
at his portrait.
The surprise and wonder
that dance in his eyes
is a picture all its own.
He looks up at Caden
in the hush that follows.
“Son, you did this?”
he asks.
Caden swallows,
shakes his head
and I realize
I’m holding my breath.
“This is amazing, Caden,”
says Dad.
“Thank you.”
Next thing I know,
I’m on my feet and clapping
while my pesky little brother
takes a bow.
Better Than Cake
Dad cuts his cake,
gives the first piece to Caden.
A pair of Cheshire cats,
neither of them
can stop grinning.
“Son, you may not be able
to play basketball
like your sister,
but you’ve got a gift
of your own.”
Where are my sunglasses?
My brother’s smile
is blinding.
Told You So
“See what happens
when you stop trying to be
someone you’re not,
when you stick with
who you really are?
Good things follow.”
I’m in my stride now,
wagging a wise finger
in my brother’s face.
“I know,” says Caden.
“You keep telling me.
Now quit it.”
Heels
Next morning,
I’m having second thoughts.
The heels I borrowed from Mom
are pretty, though.
Strawberry to match
my lip gloss,
my patent-leather pointed toes
peek from beneath
my cuffed blue jeans.
I slip them on just before
I leave the house
so Mom won’t have time
to make a fuss.
It’s bad enough
Caden catches me
and laughs.
At school,
I tiptoe down the hall,
now and then touching the wall
for support.
My pinched toes
make me want to scream
till Santiago
comes onto the scene.
Then I’m all smiles.
Too bad that’s not
the last thing I remember.
A second later,
my ankle gives way
and I’m on the floor,
Santiago holding out a hand
to help me up,
which means
I got half of what
I wanted:
I made an impression
on Santiago.
Just not
the right one.
Run
After school,
Jake calls
asking me to meet him
for a run.
I rub my sore ankle
and wince.
“No running for me today,”
I say.
I just don’t tell him
why.
Daydreaming
I walk into a room
and Santiago breezes by everyone
who stands between us.
He reaches me
and stares down into my eyes
like no one else
is there.
He cups my face
in his strong hands,
leans in close,
and our lips—
“Joylin!” says the teacher.
“Please tell the class
the answer to the question.”
“Wha
t?”
Movie Night
Movie night,
our code words for
hanging out.
KeeLee comes
for dinner
so we have time
to catch up.
Jake pops in later.
“Hey, Joy,” he says,
then switches voices.
“Hello, KeeLee.”
“Hey, Jake,” she says,
then looks back
at the television.
I give Jake
a sharp look,
see his eyes
full of KeeLee,
and pull him down
on the couch right
next to me.
“Let’s watch a movie,”
I say, not bothering
to take a vote.
I start the movie
and dim the lights.
I am not having one of my friends
make googly eyes
at the other.
Forget it.
The Day After
KeeLee and I
find our old table
in the lunchroom,
leaving show choir
and the girls from my team
on their own.
“That was weird last night,”
says KeeLee.
“What?”
“You know.
Jake kept staring at me like
I don’t know.”
She looks down at her plate.
“Like pizza.
With extra cheese.”
“Oh. That,” I say.
Should I tell her?
I wonder.
“A while back, he asked me
if we ever
talk about him.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.
A few weeks ago,” I say.
“I think—he likes you.”
There. I said it.
“Really?”
I hate the way she says it,
twirling a braid
around her finger.
“He is kind of cute,” she says.
“KeeLee!”
Then she bursts out laughing.
“I’m just kidding, Joylin.
You should see your face!
Look, Jake’s your friend
and me messing around with him
would just be too—icky.
So forget it, okay?”
I breathe again
relieved that I’m not going
to lose one friend
to another.
Skirting the Issue
I charge through the doors
of a discount clothing store
on the hunt for a bargain.
The few dollars I earn doing chores
will only go so far.
