Audacious Read Free

them
    In the dark
    In the cold
    Because they only
    Pretended.

AFTER ART
    Ms. Sagal asks me and Samir to stay
    We linger by the door
    His arms are crossed
    Tightly
    As though he’s afraid
    His heart might jump out of his chest
    Like I am.
    Are you all right Ella?
    Ms. Sagal says to me
    You look flushed.
    God God God
    I want to die.
    Samir pretends to cough.
    The winter art show is coming up
    She tells us
    Taking care not to say “Christmas art show”
    She needs another piece from each of us
    To fill up some empty walls
    I’m asking all my best students to help out.
    Samir says something about time
    Can you use your spare?
    He says he can
    And so do I
    The art room is empty in that period
    So you can work here.
    Alone
    With Samir.

AFTERMATH
    Then she just, like, leaves!
    She even closes the door.
    Samir uncrosses his arms.
    Well, he says, this is awkward.
    Then we both laugh until we have to sit down.
    I like how you laugh all the time.
    You mean even though I’m miserable?
    Are you miserable?
    Isn’t everyone?
    Not me , not right now, he says
    And asks me to help him stretch a canvas.
    I want to do a huge acrylic
    Something eye-popping
    Like Lichtenstein or Warhol.
    What are you going to do?
    Something controversial, I say
    (Without really knowing why).
    I like to agitate, I add.
    It’s working, says Samir, I’m pretty agitated.

RULES
    I’m not really allowed to have a girlfriend
    I mean my parents would not approve
    I know you probably think that’s dumb
    But it means a lot to me.
    I really like you though
    I meant what I said in the lunchroom
    I probably shouldn’t have said it
    You’re right, I am miserable
    Do you know what it feels like
    To be pulled in two different directions
    When neither of them feel completely right?
    I’m coming apart. Fragmenting. Like cubism.
    Please don’t cry.

ABOUT THAT WEBSITE
    And then I ask him:
    What were you looking at
    That day in the library?
    The staple gun punctuates the silence
    Bang!
    He has beautiful eyes
    Bang!
    He has cara-melt-in-your-mouth skin
    Bang!
    All just out of reach.
    I fold my hands in my lap
    Kneeling there on the floor
    The giant canvas we’ve made
    An altar
    To something
    Unfinished.
    My cousin , he whispers
    He was one of them
    They call him
    Martyr
    But to me
    He was just
    My cousin.

HIS LIES
    No one notices
    When I disappear
    After dinner.
    No one can hear me
    Sobbing
    Above the garage.
    No mother to rock me
    She’s lying down
    With a “stomachache”
    No father’s pep talk
    â€œPlenty more fish in the sea” etc.
    He’s grading papers
    No sister to conspire with
    Or plot revenge
    She’s giggling on the phone in her room
    No one here
    But me
    And his silent lies.
    Palestinian
    Muslim
    Conservative
    To me
    He is just
    Samir.

SIXTEEN
    And never been kissed
    Not on purpose anyway
    A drunk boy once engulfed me
    At a party
    In a narrow dark passage between
    Beer and vomit
    He pressed me against a lurid orange wall
    Tongue and hands exploring
    Like a surgeon
    Looking for lumps.
    You’re not Rebecca , he slurred
    Eventually
    Like I didn’t know
    I watched him stumble and
    Pinball down the hall
    Thinking
    Poor Rebecca.

MIDNIGHT: PART ONE
    I miss my old friends
    Kayli says
    Then cries in my arms
    Like a little girl
    I’m so worried about Mom
    She sobs
    And seconds later she’s wheezing.
    The inhaler appears
    Hisses medicinally
    And disappears
    In practiced motion.
    I hate it here
    This house is so big
    I feel like I’m a million miles away
    From you
    From everything
    Dad’s never home
    The weather sucks
    The girls at school are dumb
    Superficial pointless Barbie dolls
    My classes are way hard
    I’ll never understand algebra
    Finally she looks at me
    Seeing my red eyes
    My snotty nose
    What’s going on with you?

FOUR THINGS I NEVER SAY TO
MY SISTER
    One:
    Every time I look at your perfect body
    Dancer’s legs
    Pitcher’s arm
    Every time I