Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #Self-Esteem & Self-Reliance, #Dating & Sex
then starts the truck and heads up
the highway toward Virginia City.
Thank God it has stopped snowing.
My fingers play with the pendant
Sean gave me, sliding it back
and forth along the chain, the motion
sensuous. The road snakes south,
then north, ultimately taking us east,
and I wonder if life is like that. Go
one way, then another, to end up
someplace else. Finally Sean pulls
into a turnout overlooking city lights.
“Beautiful.” I lift up on my knees,
turn to face him, kiss him as if this
might be our last kiss—intention clear
in the race of my heart and the way
my tongue tangos over his. He pulls
back.
Wait. Are you sure?
In answer,
I squirm free of my sweater.
Now, that’s
beautiful
. His lips move over me,
wet and rough and punctuated
by sharp nips of teeth. He lays me
back across the seat and his thumb
runs along the waistband of my jeans.
Danger scent envelopes me.
You
are ready, aren’t you?
He fumbles
at my waistband and I hurry
the unbuttoning, desire a steady
thrumming, like rain upon
tin. Strangely, I’m not afraid.
Sean is a hot salt rub, friction
against my skin, and it all feels
good. Right. I reach for his belt,
want to touch what’s below his belly
button. Except… it isn’t how it should
be. Sean rolls away.
Goddamn it. No!
Stunned, tears spatter my cheeks.
“What’s wrong? What did I do?”
Hands shaking on the steering
wheel, Sean whispers,
It wasn’t you
.
Kendra
It Wasn’t Me
That’s what you said—
it wasn’t me who sent
you running, spinning
into someone else’s arms.
No,
it had nothing to do with
me. So why do I think
if I had only been thin
as rays of dawning sun
it
all would have worked
out differently? Flawless,
you needed a girl without
imperfections, and that
wasn’t
the troll who lives in
the room beyond
the looking glass. No,
your perfect girl wasn’t
me.
An Ugly Rumor
Has surfaced, scum rising to stink
up the hallways at school. I get it
from Bobby Duvall.
Did you hear
about Mrs. Sanders?
His tongue, I swear,
lolls to one side, like a summer-tired
dog.
She and Conner were… you know.
“What are you talking about, Bobby?”
But I see the story in his eyes, and in
how some of the other kids passing
by stare, then quickly look away.
Kali Benson told me. She was in
the office and heard Jerkwad Taylor
talking to the superintendent. Looks like
we’ll have subs for the rest of the year.
I want to scream that it’s a lie. But
certainty plunks into my empty stomach.
Of course it’s true. Conner trashed me
for a teacher. A woman twice his age.
I don’t see what all the hype is about,
you know? I mean, she didn’t, like, force
herself on him. Ask me, he was a lucky
son of a bitch. She’s a fucking babe.
I smoke him with my eyes. “Shut up,
Bobby. The whole thing is totally vile.”
Blood whistles in my ears, and my face
drains, cold. The mirror would tell me it’s
the color of chalk. I reach one shaky hand
inside my locker, grab a small bag of dry-roasted
almonds. I take five, chew them one
at a time, seven calories each. Thirty-five total.
I’m starving. Haven’t eaten since breakfast,
yesterday. So why is it so hard to swallow?
Distracted
Light-headed. Irritated by the stupid
gurgling in my stomach. Five almonds
will not get me through PE, which means
I have to eat lunch or risk passing out. Good
thing I brought a salad. Lettuce. Red cabbage.
Half a carrot, grated. No dressing. Forty-three
calories, all negative. Now, to find a private
place to eat. I can’t handle the swarm of voices.
Every time I let my ears pick up conversation,
hey hear the same snippets:
Mrs. Sanders.
Conner Sykes. Sex. Sex. Sex.
Goddamn him.
He told me he loved me. I loved—love—
him, too, so I said okay. Did he love me?
Did he love her, too? Did she love him?
Love is supposed to take the “wrong”
out of making love. Was any of “us” right?
Too Icy
To run outside, we’re doing laps
around the gym. The wood is slick
and hard, but I like how my legs feel,
pounding against it. Some of the girls
jog slowly, doing their best not to breathe
hard. Slugs. I sprint by them, spraying sweat.
Comments follow me:
Ooh. Disgusting.
What’s she trying to prove? Stupid
cheerleaders think they’re special.
If she gets any skinnier, she’ll blow
away in a good, stiff wind.
And then,
She used to go out with Conner Sykes.…
I run even faster, before the rest catches
up to me. I glance at the big clock on the wall.
Thank God. The period is almost over.
Thank God I can leave when we’re through.
Picking My Way
To my car, trying not to slip on
the snow-frosted parking lot, I am
almost there when I spot Cara,
working her way to Sean’s truck,
parked in the row behind. “Wait!” I yell,
picking up my pace, even if it means
falling flat on my butt—something
I just barely avoid. “I need to talk to you.”
The scarlet flush of her face tells
me she knows what I have to say.
I’m sorry, Kendra. This was a bad
way for you to find out.
Zero denial.
Not at all what I expected. Still, I have
to know. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
She stands, a hand on each hip, little
in the way of compassion in her eyes.
I couldn’t.
Her voice is sharp as new
nails.
But even if I could, I wouldn’t have.
You’d been hurt enough already. I’m
sorry you had to find out. That anybody did.
“Me too. How is he doing? Do you
know? Have you talked to him?”
She shakes her head.
He’s still not
allowed phone calls. And my parents
don’t want to discuss him with me.
Or each other, for that matter.
That doesn’t surprise me. He never
said much about them either. And what
he did say wasn’t very nice. “Okay.
Well, I’ve got to go. I have a photo shoot.”
We head opposite directions—she, toward
her boyfriend. Me, forever away from mine.
That Seems More And More
Like reality. Not sure why I thought
maybe we’d get back together again.
Wishful thinking pretty much always
comes back to slap you in the face.
I think about Conner all the way home.
Think about him and Mrs. Sanders while
I curl my hair, and put on the kind of makeup
that makes you look older in magazines.
My agent, Maxine, showed me how to