by Helen Frost
a snoop and a spy. A little creep. Arms crossed over
her chest, she looks down at me. If, she says,
you put everything back, just like you found it,
I solemnly swear—pause for effect, she raises
a hand—I won’t tell Dad … or Pam. So: we’re even.
We each have our own little secret we don’t
want the other to tell—almost as good as trust.
Abi stares at me until I agree. Okay. I won’t
tell Dad you want to kiss a boy you barely know, just
because the other girls think he’s cute, and who knows where
Brock’s parents were when you were there, so I think—
Abi interrupts. I don’t care what you think, Claire.
Don’t Talk About Your Mother
Claire
Abi … I say. We’re on the porch, waiting for Dad and Pam
to get home. I think she’s calmed down. Are you still mad?
A heartbeat or two. I guess not, she says. Good, because
something’s on my mind. Have you noticed, I ask, how Dad
never talks about Mom anymore? Abi says, Yeah, I know.
She sighs and says, It’s almost like he made a new rule:
Don’t talk about your mother in front of my wife. I’m glad
she understands. Sometimes, I say, I miss Dad, that’s all.
Now We Are Five
Claire
Dad’s car is coming up the road, it’s turning in,
it’s here. He and Pam get out, open the back door,
and Dad lifts out a tiny baby wrapped in a soft
blanket. Our family of three became four
last year, and now when they come inside, we are five.
Abigail, Dad says (she doesn’t correct him), Claire, meet
your brother, Blake. He pulls back the blanket. Oh, Dad!
I’m surprised to hear myself say. He’s so tiny. So sweet.
Try Holding Him
Claire
Even Blake, small as he is, loves Abi. When Dad
and Pam brought him home yesterday, Abi
learned right away how to wrap a soft blanket
around him and rock him like he’s her own baby.
Now I watch her and Pam and Dad hold him—
they all know exactly how to do it so he doesn’t cry.
But when I sit down and Pam puts him in my arms,
he screws up his face and squawks and squirms. Try
holding him on your other side, Abi suggests. I bump
his head as I’m switching arms, and he lets out a scream.
I didn’t mean to hurt him, I say. Pam takes him back,
and asks Dad to bring her some special cream
to put on the bump. He gets her huge purple bag
of baby supplies and dumps things out on the floor
to find it. I try saying, Sorry, but no one hears.
Blake is still crying when I slip out the back door.
Quiet
Claire, in the kayak
Early evening is when
I try to make everything
seem right. The cabin is noisy
with Blake drowning out the quiet,
so I come out on the lake at sunset
and watch birds float on the water
as if weightless. This hour gives me
time to think and breathe, a sliver
of sunset, a moment of calm.
Tyger Tyger
Claire
Dad’s voice is strong and gentle:
Tyger Tyger, burning bright …
as he lays his little black-haired baby
down to sleep … in the forest of the night.
Probably. Yes. Of Course.
Claire
Abi
Do you think Dad loved us like that when we were babies?
Probably. Yes. Of course he did.
And Mom?
Her, too.
You know that poem Dad’s been saying?
“Tyger Tyger, burning bright”?
Yes, that one.
Dad says it’s “Tyger,” spelled with a y.
I know, I saw it in one of Mom’s books.
They should call the baby Tyger.
You mean we?
He’s their baby. I don’t think we get a say.
He’s Avoiding Me
Claire
Blake sleeps a lot, but when he’s awake, he’s the king
of the house. Which suits Abi just fine—Dad’s so busy
with the baby, or asleep during the day because he’s been
up all night, that his usual eagle eye on us is a little fuzzy.
It’s been two days since they came home. That was the day
Abi fell off the dock, and now when we’re in our room alone,
she worries, I must have looked ridiculous. She has a jar of rice
in the closet because she heard you can dry out a phone
by putting it in rice, to absorb the water. (It hasn’t worked.)
She tells Dad, We’re going to the beach. He says, Have fun.
Brock doesn’t come at first, and Abi says, He’s avoiding me.
She sits with Jonilet and me, telling Jonilet, I felt so dumb
when I fell in the water. She’s sure Brock doesn’t like
her now, but I’d be surprised. If anything, I’d guess
I’m the one he doesn’t like. Who cares anyway? I ask,
and Abi glares at me. Let’s go swimming, Jonilet suggests.
While Jonilet and I are doing handstands near the rope,
Abi swims out to the raft by herself. I don’t recognize
the boy she starts talking to, and can’t hear what they say.
Jonilet comes up for air, wipes water from her eyes,
and tells me, That’s Brock’s friend Josh. He has a lot of parties.
Then Abi swims in, happy. I got invited to a bonfire! Let’s go
home, she says. Wait—Abi just met this boy. Did he
ask her out? She has to realize Dad will say no.
He Didn’t Say No
Claire
Supper: Abi, Dad, and me at the kitchen table.
Pam changing Blake in the other room. Did you
have any adventures today? Dad asks. My bike chain
came off, I tell him. Abi hesitates, then says: I got invited to—
Pam calls, Honey, could you bring me the baby wipes?
Dad gets up to find them. Abi whispers,… a bonfire.
I said I’d go, okay? She smiles at me. He didn’t say
no, she observes, nodding at Dad’s empty chair.
Cover for Me
Claire
Why don’t you just tell Dad where you’re going?
I ask. Abi curls her hair and traces pink
around her lips. Because, she explains, he’d say
no—duh! You know how way-too-strict he is. I think
Brock will be there, and, according to Josh,
he still likes me. Brushing on mascara.
Wait—are you going with Josh? I ask. Abi rolls
her eyes. No, she says. Blinking at the mirror.
It’s at his house. I’m walking—by myself.
It’s only a couple of miles, she says. Claire, please—
cover for me if you have to. She squirts an orangey
smell in her hair that stays in our room after she’s
closed the door. She goes to check the kitchen.
The coast is clear: Dad’s sitting with Pam and Blake
on the front porch, and Abi slips out the back door,
leaving me to pretend she’s in our room—it’s so fake.
A Drumbeat
Abi
I’ve walked two miles around the east end of the lake.
It wasn’t hard to find Josh’s house, but now I’m here,
it’s getting dark, and I’m not sure I should have come.
The bonfire burns high and b
right. Music. Laughter.
Do I know anyone? Should I turn around and leave
before I’m seen, go home before the night gets darker?
A drumbeat. Silhouettes of people dancing.
Someone playing music. I step in a little closer.
Faces in the firelight—it’s Brock, on the guitar.
On each side of him, a girl is singing. (Trinity on one side,
Shari Lee on the other.) I know that song. Meg is dancing
with two friends. I stand at the edge of the circle of light,
deciding: Turn and go home? Or stay to see what happens?
Brock looks up, sees me, and doesn’t look away. Trinity
and Shari Lee smile and say, Hi, Abi. I decide to stay.
Where’s Abi?
Claire
How long will it take Dad to notice
that one of his daughters isn’t home?
Pam puts Blake in his cradle, and when he cries
Dad picks him up and walks around the room
a million times. He puts the baby on his shoulder,
bounces him, pats him, sings to him, and rocks
him. Blake looks up with his big baby eyes
wide open, looks at me when Dad walks
past—was that a smile? I try smiling back. He’s pooping,
Pam explains as she takes him from Dad, sings more
baby songs, changes him and puts him down again.
It’s been three hours since Abi slipped out the back door,
without really telling Dad where she was going,
how she was getting there, when she would be
home. When Blake finally goes to sleep, Pam asks,
Where’s Abi? and Dad goes, Who? Oh, you mean
Abigail. Have you seen her, Claire? I hate this. Umm …
not for a while, I say. Dad looks puzzled, so I add,
Maybe she’s in our room with headphones on. Is that a lie?
Not exactly; he can check if he wants to. But Dad
says, Blake kept us awake a lot last night. We’re turning in.
He locks the doors, switches off the porch light,
yawns, and turns away. I’ll unlock the back door later.
Good night, Dad, I say. He and Pam reply, Good night.
White T-Shirt
Abi
In the circle of light around the fire, a dancer falls
and sprains her ankle. She’s crying, and she’s
trying to stand up, but falls again. The music
and the dancing stop. What happened? One minute
she’s dancing, the next she’s on the ground, and can’t
stand up. What’s your name? I ask. Regina, she answers
through her tears. She stepped in a rabbit hole, says Josh.
Her ankle starts to swell. I took first aid last year, and I
know what to do. There’s a cooler of ice right over there.
Brock brings it to me. I sit down beside Regina so she
can rest her ankle on my knee. What can we put ice in?
I ask Brock. He takes off his white T-shirt and ties it shut
to make an ice pack, which I put on Regina’s ankle.
She stops crying, and Josh brings his older sister,
Annie, who asks Regina, Can you walk to my car?
She isn’t sure. Brock and Annie help her stand
and try to walk. She stumbles, so they make a chair
out of their arms and carry her. She gets in the backseat,
and I get in beside her to hold the ice against her ankle.
Annie says, I know where Regina lives. It’s not far. She
starts the car. Brock opens the door and squeezes in
beside me. I’ll help you hold the ice, he says. Regina
stretches out her leg across our knees. Abi, it’s a good
thing you knew what to do, Brock says. He doesn’t seem
to be thinking about me falling off his dock. It’s nice of you,
I say, to literally give her the shirt off your back. Brock smiles.
Abi, I like you more and more. Not everyone can use the word
“literally” correctly. (I never knew vocabulary
could impress a boy.) It’s a little crowded here
in the backseat of this car. Brock lifts his arm
behind me, drops his hand to let it rest lightly
on my shoulder. So—Brock without his shirt.
A mix of bonfire smoke and boy-smell in the car.
And those words: I like you more and more. Annie
is driving slowly along the bumpy road, but we
can’t help leaning into each other around every curve.
After we take Regina home, Annie asks, Abi, should I drop
you off now? Brock shakes his head a tiny bit. No, I say.
Thanks, but I’ll go back to the bonfire and walk home later.
Now Under the Stars
The lake
Lapping at the shore,
I’m enjoying this party, reflecting both
firelight and the light of a half-moon. Someone stirs the
embers and feeds the fire with pine. Abi left some time ago
in a car with several others. When she returns, the girl who
sprained her ankle isn’t with her, but Brock is at her side.
Walking toward the fire, he reaches out to take her
hand. She turns to him with an easy smile,
as if she does this all the time. He smiles,
too. They stand beside the fire talking.
It seems they’ve forgotten all about
the disaster of Abi falling
in the water. They walk toward me,
stand together on the shore, quiet. Then
Abi kicks off her shoes and steps into my water.
Brock does the same. At first, they’re looking
out at me, then at each other, and now
under the stars—no interruption
this time—they kiss.
Footsteps on the Gravel Path
Claire
After midnight. Moonlight shining through
my window, leaf-shadows on the wall
dancing above Abi’s empty bed. I’m listening
hard, and waiting—finally, I hear footsteps fall
lightly on the gravel path. Claire, Abi whispers
at our window, is Dad still up? Her face is flushed,
her eyes are shining. I’ll check, I whisper back, then,
No. So she comes in the back door. After she’s brushed
out the tangles in her hair, she climbs into bed, still
smiling. I turn off the light, but she is wide awake.
Brock likes me, Claire, and I like him, she says.
Loons call back and forth, out on the lake.
Some Kind of Makeup
Claire
Abi wakes up later than usual, decides
to skip her early-morning swim. She puts on
her favorite running clothes and some
kind of makeup that, after she’s done
designing her face, is supposed to look like
she’s not wearing it, except for a thin black
line she carefully draws on each eyelid.
I’m going running, she tells me. I’ll be back
before Dad has finished breakfast. Which she is not.
When she comes in two hours later, Pam and Dad
don’t ask any questions. Up at three with Blake, they
didn’t get much sleep, and they’re still bleary-eyed.
Two Boys
Abi
Brock and I agreed we’d meet this morning
and go running together. It’s not a secret,
but I don’t mention it to Dad and Pam.
After Brock leaves, I walk down to the lake,
and I see TJ in his boat. He rows over to our dock,
all smiles. I remember how easy our friendship
used to be—maybe it cou
ld still be like that. I say, Hi, TJ.
He says, Hi, Abi. I say, It’s a beautiful day. (Good start.)
He asks, Want to go for a walk? And I think: I’d enjoy that.
Maybe I’d find a way to tell him I like Brock. But I say,
No thanks. I don’t give him a reason. I never expected
two boys to like me at once, and I’m not sure what to do.
Squirrels Chasing Each Other
Claire
Pam puts Blake in my arms, and a miracle
happens: he doesn’t scream. I have to admit
I’m starting to get used to him—he might even
like me a little bit. He’s just had a bath, and I sit
near the window holding him, all wrapped
up in a towel with yellow ducks on it—I’m
okay with this. I breathe in the smell of his
clean baby hair, and watch a gray squirrel climb
up a tree outside the window—then two
squirrels, chasing each other around the tree,
and down the path toward the lake. Who is that
on the dock? Abi. And—I think it’s Brock. He
must have stayed here after they went running.
I crane my neck, but the trees block my view.
Blake is happy—I don’t want to get up
to walk over to a different window.
When Pam takes Blake from my arms, I look out
at the place I think I saw Abi and Brock,
but now I don’t see Brock down there.
Wait—is that TJ’s boat, tied to our dock?
I don’t see him anywhere. Would he hide and
spy on Brock and Abi? I’m going out in the kayak,
I tell Dad. Once I’m out on the lake, I can just—
not being nosy or anything—look back.
From Out Here
Claire, in the kayak
From out here on the lake, not too far from shore, it
looks like TJ is rowing home in his boat. He makes
a better spy than I do, looking back as if to make sure no
