Freakboy (21 page)

came                back                together

in                              pieces

dragged                     out

         pavement

boots

blood

black.

When I woke up

I'd been 17 for 6 days.

Veronica Says

everything happens

for a reason.

Ever notice how

when something's a cliché

it's 'cause it's true?

Her only brother

died of AIDS

and her husband ditched her

'cause she never could have kids.

Sad, but if all those things

hadn't happened

in her life

she might not of

been there for a kid like me.

She was more than

just a foster mother

who cleaned me up

got me back into school

made me quit smoking (everything)

helped me check out Willows.

She even tried to get me visits

with Frankie—

till that asshole judge ruled

I was unfit company

for a thirteen-year-old.

In return I gave her

fashion advice (she never took it),

mowed the lawn without her asking,

rubbed her feet.

I was that grateful.

I worried 'cause I knew

I could never pay her back.

         “Don't worry,” she'd say.

         “I know you'll pay it forward.”

I hate

The Sperm Donor

The Asshole Judge

The baseball-cap-wearing pervert

but I'm grateful, too.

Why?

Veronica.

Willows.

The life I got now

and the chance to pay it forward.

Next time Veronica checks in on me

I'm gonna tell her about Brendan.

He's messed up

but I'm gonna find a way

to help him.

(Vanessa)

In the Morning

I'm putting on waterproof mascara

before wrestling practice and

the eyes looking back

at me are tiny.

Sheahan notices,

takes advantage of

my slowness

in the takedowns.

Brendan doesn't come to wrestling

and no one says anything to me

about him.

(BRENDAN)

At Breakfast

I tell Mom

I quit wrestling.

            “I never could go see you

            after that first match.

            It just looked so awful.”

            She shakes her head, like the

            memory will fall out.

            “I was afraid I'd scream terrible

            things at your opponents.”

I'm a little surprised

she's so relieved—

Is that
really
the reason

she was the only parent

who never came to meets?

Detached,

I mull it over.

Dismiss,

it doesn't matter.

Claude the Interloper

pats her arm

like she's an invalid,

then invites me to get donuts

now that I'm not training.

Just great.

I know he's secretly thinking

I'm a weakling for quitting

days before finals.

(Vanessa)

Brendan and I

must be broken up

even though neither

of us has said so.

                          And how could we

                          when we don't talk?

He takes the bus,

I don't offer him a ride.

There's an empty space

where anger was

and in its place

                          my heart is breaking.

This morning I started to wonder

if it was all an elaborate lie

to trick me into dumping him

because he was too chicken

to end it himself.

And then I saw him

drooping down

the hall

and knew

there's something

really wrong.

I wish I had someone

I could talk to about it.

The Night Before Wrestling Finals

I turn out my bedside lamp

and when I close my eyes

an Erin Bledsoe memory

flashes behind them.

She lived

next door to me

until third grade.

Erin had bunk beds

and on sleepovers

we liked to be

in the top one together.

After popcorn

and a
Princess
DVD

her mother would kiss

us both on the forehead.

And turn out the lights.

It started

just before Christmas.

December break.

Stormy night

howling wind

thudding rain

prevented sleep.

Doctor, nurse,

boyfriend, girlfriend,

soap opera.

The games

built slowly.

Exploring

our bodies

ourselves

each other.

Hello Kitty

days-of-the-week

jammies

panties

discarded.

Touching

never felt wrong

at the time

but daylight

always left me              embarrassed.

We fought

sometimes

over who had

to be the boy

and I search my

mind for any

memory

that I ever

wanted to be

anything but the girl

or that I wanted Erin

to be anything

but the boy.

I can't find it.

There Are Phases

of the moon that

I learned in Science.

Waxing crescent

first quarter

waxing gibbous

full

waning gibbous

third quarter

waning crescent

new.

And, easy to remember,

phases of the seasons.

Spring

summer

winter

fall.

There are phases of life.

When you're a baby

child

teenager

adult.

And these

are all passing;

nothing stays the same.

I'm flopping, turning

in bed. Hot pillow,

no sleep.

Maybe Brendan's thing

is just a phase?

A strange phase. Like me and Erin.

Hard to understand

but maybe he just thinks

he wants to be a girl for now

and in a year

we won't even remember

this phase.

Kind of like

you don't remember

thudding December rain

in the soft touch of spring.

(Angel)

Nerves at the Sight of a Sweet Bungalow

set off from the street.

Sunflower lights

line the walk.

Lord, I'm jumpy as a cat.

Marcus's hand

holds mine tight.

        “Praying?” he asks.

“You know it,” I say.

        He smiles. Cocoa eyes crinkle.

        “They'll love you—

        just don't mention religion.”

I nod. There's a horde of bees

swarming in my belly

but the roots of my hair

don't tingle.

We're barely on the step

and the screen door flies open.

        “Welcome!” His moms

        are framed in the door.

I almost fall over.

One of 'em's

my English professor.

You never think of your teacher

having a life outside of school.

All four of us exclaim over this

small, small world.

Then we go in,

sit down.

They offer me wine,

I take iced tea.

It feels good

being with someone

who wants to introduce me

to his family.

And it feels even better

that I'm mostly nervous

because we all know

I have a paper due

that I should be home working on.

Just feels a normal

kind of nervous.

One I could get used to.

I Keep Messing Up

Calling one of his moms

Dr. Wolski.

        “It's Kathleen, here, Angel,”

        she says. His other mom,

        Dorothy, nods.

        “Trust me, she gets enough of

        that at school—she'd be

        insufferable if we

        kept it up at home!”

We laugh and talk

through dinner and into the night.

Turns out Dorothy is an administrator

at the hospital—and she's on something

called an ethics panel.

         “Angel has an ethical dilemma,”

         Marcus says, grabbing another

         homemade cookie off the plate.

         “Tell them about Brendan.”

So I tell 'em about the broken window

and blue envelopes,

and I'm trying not to get worked up

but it's hard.

          “You should absolutely

          call the authorities,” Dorothy

          says. And she takes a sip of wine.

Kathleen shakes her head.

          “I couldn't disagree more.”

          “Why?” Dorothy asks.

          “For one thing, the money he

          sends is a clear sign of remorse—

          he
is
paying his debt.

          “For another, Angel doesn't know

          
why
he broke the window—that

          should inform any decision she

          makes.” Kathleen says to me,

          “You should try to find out.”

Dorothy doesn't like that.

          “The reason doesn't matter—

          actions have consequences.”

And they're off into

a philosophical argument

about crime and the meaning

of punishment.

Disagreeing but not fighting.

It's interesting to hear and

I'm trying to follow them

but it's getting late and

I accidentally yawn.

Marcus takes my hand.

          “Now we've done it,”

          he pretends to whisper.

          “They'll be up

          half the night debating …

          Let's go.”

They stop

long enough