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The Lost Marble Notebook of Forgotten Girl & Random Boy

Page 6

by Marie Jaskulka


  you were ready,

  why’d you do it?”

  I don’t answer her.

  I don’t even know why I told her.

  I had to tell somebody.

  I answer her question in my own head:

  He had this

  expression

  I recognized.

  Would be easiest

  to call it hunger,

  but it also had touches

  of lunacy

  and confusion

  and one heartbreaking

  question

  only I could answer.

  I felt so powerful.

  For the first time,

  sex

  didn’t

  seem like

  the first prize

  in a beauty pageant

  or

  —a teenage cliché—

  it didn’t feel like the ball

  in a game of keep-away.

  It felt like a pretty, wrapped-up

  gift only I could give

  to take

  all the insecurity

  away.

  And it did

  for him

  for a while.

  Valentine, Incognito

  When I go to the printer

  to wait for my

  chem-lab notes,

  I have to pass Peter X.

  I know it’s probably ridiculous,

  but I wonder

  if I walk differently

  now that I’ve . . .

  I keep wondering

  if people can tell,

  if I can notice

  a difference.

  He smiles as if

  he has a secret,

  too.

  At the printer,

  where the paper

  emerges, I find

  on top of the pile

  a freshly printed

  photo mosaic

  heart

  made up

  of tiny close-up

  pictures of my

  hair/cheeks/lips/hands/etc.,

  every part of me, but my eyes.

  On my way back,

  I thank him

  bashfully.

  I beam.

  I’m so happy he

  still

  cares

  for some reason.

  He moves his phone

  in circles

  and

  says,

  “I didn’t include

  any pictures of

  your eyes

  ’cause they’re

  too hard to catch.”

  Mirror

  I don’t look

  like your typical

  dude-magnet.

  I’ve got uncontrollable

  hair and pale skin

  that some people

  (okay—one person)

  call luminescent. I’ve

  got a problem

  making choices

  that might last

  forever,

  a.k.a.

  all of them.

  My feelings sometimes

  (okay—MOST times)

  are like friends who won’t shut up

  and let good enough be.

  What am I trying to say?

  Just that . . .

  . . . sometimes, I find myself

  daydreaming . . .

  of other lives

  I’m destined for,

  lives so much different than

  mine.

  Sometimes I catch my brain

  knowing, just knowing

  (waiting for the rest of me to admit)

  that even though I love him,

  15

  might be

  too young

  to say

  forever

  but I keep saying it.

  Abruptly

  I am aware

  of how little

  he knows

  about my

  in-school

  life—how

  Ms. Jackson

  thinks I could be

  a writer one day,

  how Peter X

  helped me pass

  my chem test,

  how I am failing

  phys ed

  because

  I keep forgetting

  to retrieve the gym uniform

  Random Boy peeled off me

  weeks ago and

  never returned. He

  sent me home in a

  Ween shirt instead.

  School has become my secret, safe room

  away from it all,

  where I am different,

  where I can open up my body/soul windows

  and let the difference out.

  Skipping

  Girl, why

  don’t you

  not leave me

  tomorrow?

  Why don’t you

  stay home and make

  love to me all day?

  I hate when you

  go,

  and I know

  you

  hate it, too.

  So why don’t you

  skip? I’ll

  take you places

  you dream

  about. I’ll make

  you want to

  drop out

  altogether.

  Boy, hello?

  Welcome to the

  21st century.

  You can’t get a

  library card

  without a

  diploma.

  You got time

  to write a thousand poems.

  How ’bout you make

  time for me?

  Undecided

  It’s like I’m his favorite

  color and he never wants

  to let me out of his sight. Only

  I’m not sure he’s the best shade for me.

  I kind of want to try chartreuse (which he says is out there)

  or aqua (which he says is gay).

  Maybe I’m gay;

  guess

  I’ll never know.

  Worlds Collide

  He takes me on a date

  date—the kind where

  he borrows his dad’s

  truck, cleans it, and

  opens its doors for me

  when he picks me up.

  At the restaurant, he

  asks me for advice on

  what to order.

  I can’t help but smile

  at the buttons

  buttoned on his shirt.

  We pick at each other’s

  dishes and fill up before

  everything we ordered’s

  been served.

  We balance too many

  Styrofoam boxes as we exit.

  Someone holds the door

  open for us. “Surprise!”

  It’s, uh . . .

  “Hey, how you

  doing? Fancy meeting you

  here!” (big innocent smile)

  “Hey.” I rush rush rush to the

  car, hoping he won’t ask.

  “Who was that?”

  “Uh, no one,”

  I say, just as Peter X runs

  up behind me and places a

  tiny white box on top of the

  others.

  “You dropped this,” he says,

  making deep eye contact.

  “Oh, are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” he says, “I took a picture

  of it falling.

  Want to see?”

  He turns.

  “This must be—”

  “Who was that?”

  “Just a boy from school—”

  I say his Real Name

  out loud and Random

  Boy makes fun of it.

  I wish I could erase

  Peter X from my

  notebook, but

  not from my life.

  “What did he mean?

  Why did he say

  he took a picture?”

  “He
always takes pictures

  of everyone,”

  I lie. “He’s a total freak.”

  I feel bad

  piling up untruths,

  but this dishonesty pyramid

  is the sturdiest protection

  I can build

  for Peter X.

  The Peter X Thing

  hangs

  in the truck

  like a noose.

  I wait

  for him

  to speak,

  to sentence

  me to payback

  for knowing a person

  he knows nothing

  about

  so I can get it over with.

  Instead, he gives me

  radio silence

  for a good ten minutes,

  the turn signal so loud

  and long

  and insistent,

  it makes me nauseous.

  “That dude

  is a douchebag,”

  he says matter-of-factly.

  “You know him from school?”

  “From chem.”

  “I hope he’s not your school boyfriend.”

  “My what?”

  “The X-man you write about.”

  I throw my hair back

  against the headrest

  and sigh.

  We were having a

  good night.

  “Just tell me.”

  “What?”

  “You love me.”

  “More than myself,”

  I say.

  It seems

  truer

  every day.

  The Drive Home

  is quiet and uncomfortable

  until we both try

  to turn on the radio

  and our fingers

  greet each other

  at the scan button.

  A song we love

  happens to begin

  and we settle in—

  my off-key voice reaching over

  the armrest to remind him

  I’m here.

  His secretly beautiful

  voice

  doesn’t

  sing back.

  He pulls over,

  puts us in park,

  but leaves the engine going,

  the music flowing through

  the cab

  as he rolls down the windows,

  sending the food smells out

  and the cool air in.

  He leans over and

  kisses me deeply—

  breathes me.

  His hand cups the nape

  of my neck

  as the other

  slides

  between T-shirt

  and skin.

  Right there,

  next to frenetic weeknight traffic,

  an electronic DJ

  spins a song

  with a bass line

  straight

  from hell

  and we dance

  sort of.

  We use it as the backbone

  of our movements, our

  quick, desperate

  grasps

  for that thing

  we both know

  exists

  when we’re together

  but that we can’t seem

  to locate lately.

  Random Boy yanks

  the shirt over my head,

  exposing me

  to the headlights going nowhere,

  striking my skin

  —radiant whips—

  as they pass.

  We

  get naked fast, and

  as the singer

  croons the bridge,

  he and I

  dissolve our differences

  and

  become

  one—

  a resounding song echoing

  on a dark night.

  Next Day

  I spend

  study period

  in the library.

  Maybe I’m avoiding Peter X.

  I breathe fresh

  old-book air

  until

  a cloud rolls

  between the windows

  and me.

  “Hi, Brian,”

  I say, hoping

  he’ll keep rolling by,

  but he sits

  and eyes

  my marble notebook

  and me

  with a sick smile.

  “Hi, yourself.

  So guess whose tits

  I saw on the side of the

  highway

  last night?”

  He laughs,

  and I envision

  wild animals shriveling

  prey

  with dirty teeth.

  “Never knew

  you

  were such a

  slut is all.

  Well, when that

  Prince Charming of yours—”

  (snorts)

  “dumps you,

  hit me up,

  kay?”

  I don’t know what to say—

  so get this:

  I say

  nothing.

  I get up

  and walk

  away.

  And that night,

  when Random Boy

  asks about my day,

  I keep quiet.

  I don’t know why.

  Mindf*cking

  We have sex so much it hurts,

  but whatever. When we go

  a whole day without, he worries

  I don’t love him anymore.

  It’s as if the closer we get, the

  more he needs to be reassured.

  I sigh ’cause I don’t know

  what else to do, which

  just makes him madder.

  Then, one late, smoky night,

  while our laughter still lingers

  from a private joke,

  he asks, “Would you rather

  be with someone else?”

  Like I’d say so if I did.

  “Yeah right,” I say.

  “Like who?”

  “Like Brian Kipley.”

  “Like what? Why him?”

  I am shivering I’m so cold.

  “ ’Cause he told me

  he screwed you some night

  in a tent

  at a keg party

  in the woods.”

  “My dad had just left.”

  “So it’s true?”

  I don’t tell him it’s not,

  even though it’s not—

  true.

  Let him deal with knowing

  what it’s like

  to love a slut

  for a while.

  Boom Shaka Lak

  She’s being a bitch

  and I don’t know why.

  I try

  to kiss it out of her,

  to tempt the truth

  from between her legs.

  Anger turns to

  desperation,

  which seems like

  it could turn to

  death

  at any time.

  Mine. Hers. Ours.

  I black out sometimes,

  but that’s not the surprising part.

  I’m shocked

  when I come back

  to find

  I’m still alive,

  and she’s still here, too.

  Ever After

  Since we did it,

  all he wants to do

  is do it

  again

  and again, when all

  I want is him

  to beg me

  again, not

  expect me to

  open up, sesame

  every time; it’s

  like all the what if

  is gone. He’s

  reached the end

  of the story, but I

  keep flipping pages,

  thinking

  he might

 
write me

  something new,

  some words less

  blue

  than I’m used to.

  But no, he picks me

  up and drives me

  to the nearest

  bed, where he

  beds me before

  he says a

  word.

  Peek

  Usually,

  I slam the door

  shut

  to the outside.

  You see,

  I don’t allow

  spectators

  at the peep show

  of my life’s lousy

  moments, but

  I want to show

  you

  the worst parts.

  I want you to know

  where I go

  when I won’t

  let you

  follow.

  I know I said it’s about

  eating, sleeping, and sex—

  but not with you.

  Sex used to be my

  biological requirement,

  but now

  it’s a spiritual quest—

  at the end is

  the most powerful

  peace.

  So here’s what I’d tell you

  if I had any guts:

  Usually,

  my dad relents

  before I get

  involved.

  He knows

  I have a boiling point

  he can push me

  to. It’s not written

  in stone. It’s

  an understanding

  between men.

  Usually,

  he respects

  my anger

  because

  usually,

  I stick up for

  my mother.

  Not usually—

  every goddamn time.

  And sometimes I think it’s

  some kind of training

  for life.

  Today, though

  when my old man

  turned on me,

  when he

  surprised me

  from behind

  with an old metal pipe

  destined for

  the junkyard,

  she

  didn’t

  open her mouth, she

  didn’t even pretend

  to pull him off.

  She just

  watched

  from the

  floor beside

  the coffee table

  while he

  beat

  the living shit

  out of me

  with a metal

  goddamn

  pipe.

  I guess I’m not surprised.

  She’s beat down

  inside and out.

  Defending me

  would just be an invitation for

  him to target her

  instead.

  I didn’t fight

  back. I

  let the strikes

  blast

  against

  my skin, detonate

  the suspicions

  I’ve held

  all my life.

  From the outside,

  it must have seemed

  like I didn’t even

  hurt.

  But all the while

  —this is what I want

  you to remember—

  I fought

  to keep

  alive—

  that’s what I was doing.

  I was holding your innocent image in

  a glass ball in the center of my skull.

  That was all I thought about.

  You see,

  I want you

  to remember what I REALLY am

  even as I feel myself changing.

  Then

 

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