not with much conviction.
I am totally bothered the whole
time we shop for healthy food.
And as soon as we get home,
I call my best friend to discuss.
Brianna
A Best Friend
Listens when you rant
about the bad, the blah,
the totally stupid.
A best friend
comments when you want
her to, shuts her mouth
when you don’t. She
is
the one who laughs at your
jokes, no matter how idiotic.
She can interpret the tone of
your voice,
cries if she hears pain,
smiles at each hint of joy.
She will tell you to stop
when you
don’t see danger or twist
toward wrongdoing. She is
your conscience when you
can’t find it.
Mikayla
A Conscience
Can be an annoying thing.
Especially when considering
a major deception, like sneaking
out to meet your boyfriend.
Tonight won’t be the first time
I’ve done it since I’ve been
grounded. I’ve mostly given
up on listening to that stupid
little nag inside my head. Every
now and then it insists I’ll be
sorry, and maybe I will. But if
Mom and Dad won’t lighten up,
I don’t have much choice but
the covert route to Dylan. So I wait
for all the lights in the house
to extinguish. For every voice
to quiet way beyond whispers.
And then I wait just a little bit
longer before texting Dylan to come
pick me up. The tiny voice complains,
“You even pilfered Brianna’s cell
to send the TM.” And I argue right
back, “Yeah, but she never uses it,
except to call Harley, who’s busy
helping her dad move. And I couldn’t
exactly ‘borrow’ mine from off Mom
and Dad’s dresser, now could I?”
Anyway, I didn’t really steal it.
I’ll put it back in Bri’s backpack first
thing in the morning. She won’t miss
it at all. I check my makeup, lotion
my hands so when they touch Dylan
they’ll be satin-soft. Spritz perfume—
just a little. Don’t want to smell, as Trace
would say, like a Fourth Street hooker.
Luckily, his bedroom is on the other
side of the house. I’m pretty sure
if he heard my window creak open
this time of night, he’d be sure to let
someone (like Dad) know immediately.
So I’m Very, Very Quiet
As I urge the window open,
slip through the gap, holding tight
to the sill. The house is built into
the hill, but it’s still a drop from
my upstairs room to the ground.
Getting back in is harder, but I’ve
figured out how to shimmy
up the rough siding, using the family
room window frame as a boost.
It’s a perfect June night, warm
with a soft sigh of breeze and
star spatters splashed across
the blue-black sky. My heart
skips as the neighbor’s old dog
yaps. Trying to bust my escape.
I hurry down the driveway,
turn toward the main road through
the valley. Dylan’s headlights find
me before I reach it, though.
Just seeing his face, illuminated
through the windshield, fills me
with happiness. I jump through
the passenger door. “Let’s go!”
He gives me a quick kiss, then
guns the Wrangler. Ty’s parents
are out of town. He said we can
hang out there if it’s okay with you.
I consider our limited options.
The back of the Jeep isn’t very
comfortable, and who knows when
a nosy cop might decide to
check out the usual summer night
party spots. The last thing I need
is my uncle or one of his buddies
eyeing my boobs again. Tyler’s is
safer, and it’s close. “Sounds good.”
Out of the Loop
For a couple of weeks, communications
limited to a covert phone call or six,
I have not been privy to gossip concerning
my posse. Turns out, Ty walked in on
Emily and Clay. Caught them mid-dirty.
Dylan informs me of this so I’ll know what
to say, or what not to say, when we get
there. And then he makes the comment,
I didn’t know your friend was such a slut.
Em and I have been tight since third
grade. My first reaction is to jump in
and defend. But then I remember the last
time I saw her, how she told me she just
wanted to try something new. I look at Dylan,
all iron-jawed in his conviction. “Neither did I.”
Now I’m torn between asserting a semi-
warped sense of morality and standing up
for a friend. My best friend, really. If the Ugg
were on the other foot, would she react
differently? Ack. Relationships are so
complicated. I’ll think about it later.
Meanwhile, until we get to Tyler’s, I let
my hand crawl up Dylan’s thigh, all the way
to the burgeoning bulge. Quit, he says.
God, girl, don’t you have any idea how much
I’ve missed being with you? I’m desperate
to show you. Just not here. Five minutes, okay?
It takes three to reach Tyler’s. Thirty
seconds to get through the door, kissing
each other like we’ve never done it before.
The house smells like skunk. Green weed.
Now I know the source. Ty is sitting on
the couch watching TV with Caitlin Bowers.
They barely look our way and suddenly
I hear the canned moans that can only mean
they’re watching cable porn. Disgusting.
Guess he’s not really missing Em. Make
yourselves at home, he says, patting the sofa
beside him. Orgy? Don’t think so. Thank
God Dylan is on the same page as me.
Uh. Not now, thanks. Mik and I would
appreciate a little alone time, you know?
Ty waves us down the hall. You can have
my parents’ room. Just be sure to clean
up after yourselves, okay? His bluntness
stings, but not enough to keep me from
following Dylan, feeling like I’m about
to do something really filthy in a stranger’s
bed. Which sort of makes me wonder
what has gone on in that bed before we
got there. Dylan pulls me through the door,
and his kisses are filled with intent. “Wait,”
I say, going into the bathroom to get
a big clean-looking towel. I put it over
the pretty paisley spread and as we start
taking off our clothes, it comes to me that
we’ve barely said a dozen words to each
other tonight. That’s plenty for Dylan, who
pulls me down on top of him. I look into
his eyes. “I love you.” Does he know how
very much? I love you, too. Totally.
We are kissing. Licking. Biting. Moaning
louder than the TV in the other room.
He’s ready. Wants inside me. But
there’s something important missing.
“Not yet. Where’s the condom?”
I forgot it. But it’s okay. I’ll pull
out. Don’t worry. Don’t worry?
We didn’t use one last time. It was
right after my last period. But now
it’s been a couple of weeks. “Dylan.
This is dangerous. I can’t get pregnant.”
He Rolls Me onto My Back
Strong. Sure of himself. Then he smiles
down at me. I know what I’m doing.
Promise. I won’t get you pregnant.
And I have to have you right now.
He hesitates, waiting for my answer.
Everything about me is shouting yes,
so I nod and lose myself in the moment.
Making love with him is so beautiful.
We rock together, in rhythm. One.
As he starts to tense, I remind him with
a subtle lift of his hips. He withdraws just
in time, slicking my belly. See? All good.
I am happy for the towel beneath us.
Happier to lie together, bathed in sweat
and the sticky proof of our love. It is, for sure,
all good. At least, until I get home.
Tyler
He Takes Mikayla Home
Dylan, my almost brother.
The top of my list of best
buddies
and yet I have never once
confessed that I loved Mikki
before he did. Why that fact
should
bother me now, I have no idea.
I mean, he and she are superglued.
Maybe it’s because Emily and I are
not
inseparable anymore. Caitlin
is a diversion, that’s all.
I will never
covet
time with her, like I did with Em.
Like I once hoped to with Mik.
Dylan and I have been
each other’s
sounding boards. But when it
comes to what really counts
to us, and between us,
things
border on secretive.
Shane
Some Secrets
Should never be admitted outside
a confessional. Should be written
on scraps of paper. Shredded. Burned,
their ashes allowed to lift upon the wind
toward heaven. Whispered apologies
to the only One capable of forgiveness.
Other secrets should be shouted long
before they ever are. Should be sung,
solos in front of the choir. Given voice
and melody. Arias, swelling to fill
the dead, empty space around deception
with the unbearable lightness of truth.
And then there are those that can only
be whispered. Shared between trustworthy
friends, if only to lighten their weight
in the telling. Secrets meant to be kept
like treasure—secured in a concealed
lockbox, tucked away inside your heart.
Why?
That’s the question I keep asking myself.
Why did I have to fall in love with someone
destined to die early? Impending death
hangs thick around here already. I’m steeped
in it and its cologne does not wash off
easily. Okay, I know Alex isn’t, like, even
close to checking out. His HIV is under
control for now. He’s not even sick, not really.
I’ve researched the virus in the past—
just needed to know the facts, man, before
ever expecting to tumble for some guy
who was actually infected. I get that he isn’t
going to croak any time soon. Understand
that there are ways to be together without
catching it myself, even if our relationship
grows beyond chastity, all the way to passion.
I’m Tired
Of living chaste. Damn it, today
I’m sixteen years old. And I know
that isn’t exactly over the hill, but
I want to see what sex is all about.
Most of me wants to find out with
Alex. But the little piece that’s afraid
is completely paranoid. The kind of
paranoid love struggles to conquer.
I’ve smoked weed with him. Held
his hand. And I’ve kissed him—
full-on making out, so much better
than anything I expected or could have
invented in my warped imagination.
But when I get home, I take massive
doses of vitamin C and zinc. Stupid,
I know. Like Airborne could ward off
HIV. Still, it’s a start. Anyway, I don’t
have a choice. Though I haven’t admitted
it to him yet, wrong, right, dangerous or harmless,
I am totally in love—and lust—with Alex.
Later, We’re Going Out
To celebrate my birthday. Not
like anyone here at home is planning
a party. I mean, what a surprise
it would be if one of my parents
actually acknowledged the occasion.
As usual, Dad was out the door before
I even got up this morning. And when
I sat across from Mom, drinking coffee
as she read the newspaper (complete
with the date and everything!), she barely
looked up. “Hey, Mom,” I said. “Any
plans for the day?” But she just kept
skimming the pages. Nope. Nothing
special. How about you? Articulated
like she actually gave a half damn.
“Having dinner at La Strada, with
my b—my friend, Alex.” It’s one
of the fanciest restaurants in Reno.
A date restaurant. But all she said was,
That’s nice. Wherever her head was at,
it was certainly not thinking back to
the day she had me. I’ve heard it
was a tough labor. Maybe she’d rather
not retrograde to the delivery room.
I gave up. Went and called Lucas, who
is an asshole, but his brother scores
awesome weed. He picked me up and
we’re on our way to get Chad,
who is almost as big an asshole as Lucas.
But beggars (of weed, that is) can’t choose
the company their suppliers keep. “Where
does Clay get this stuff?” I try not to exhale
too much smoke around my words.
Lucas shrugs. Some guy he knows
has a Humboldt connect. Clay buys it.
I borrow it. Hope he never catches me.
No Shit
Clay is huge. If I were Lucas, I’d be wary
about “borrowing” anything from him.
We pull into the driveway of a cute little
house with perfect paint and a pretty yard.
“Chad lives here?” The house so misrepresents
him. “Are his parents clean freaks, or what?”
Lucas laughs. Don’t know about that,
but his mom is, like, hot. Not that you’d
care. And I think she’s divorced, although
last time I was here, some creepy guy
was hanging all over her. Guess he’s moving
in. Chad’s not happy about that at all.
Lucas beeps and Chad comes slinking
out the door—a lizard on t
wo legs.
Behind him is his mom—a tall, skinny
redhead with impossible breasts. Plastic.
Even if I were straight, I wouldn’t find
her hot. But the dude grabbing her from
behind obviously does. Wait. Holy shit.
I think it’s Harley’s dad. I haven’t seen
him in a really long time, but . . . yeah.
Pretty sure it’s him. Chad ignores both
of them, though I can see his mom saying
something to him. He waves her off.
Then he notices me and if scowls could kill,
I’d be a corpse. He settles into the backseat.
Gets straight to the point. Why you hang
with fags, dude? Lucas’s face goes red,
but he keeps quiet, so I answer, “As friends
go, fags are totally nonthreatening, unless
you happen to be questioning your own
sexuality. Are you, uh, worried, Chad?”
That was a lot more fun than admitting Lucas
is not really my friend and only consorts
with me because of the money I give him
for weed that he steals from his brother.
Chad Sputters a Denial
And that’s all good. Just wanted
to make him squirm. “You can take
me home,” I tell Lucas. Let the boys
play without me. Who needs them?
I got my weed, and it’s my birthday,
and in just a few hours, when I see
Alex, this upside-down place I find
myself in will right itself. I mean,
I’m the queer here. So why do I feel
like I’m the only normal one in this
piece of crap stinking car? But I’ll
want to score again sometime, so
I don’t say that, nor do I say that
the reason gay guys prefer girls for
friends is because they’re not hung
up on dick size. (Well, not personal
dick size, anyway.) When we park
in front of my house, Chad draws
a needle-sharp breath and I take sick
satisfaction in his obvious envy.
Of Course, He Doesn’t Know
That all the money in the world couldn’t
fill this beautiful big old house with
happiness. That the expensive furniture
and art were bought with loneliness.
Mom’s. Mine. Can’t say for sure Shelby
is lonely. Maybe she’s content, adrift
in bed, Barney and Dora and the Playhouse
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