Something About Love: A YA contemporary romance in verse by Elana Johnson

we’d broken up because my mom
    Got engaged to his dad, but
    It wasn’t the only reason.
    I felt myself falling for him.
    Fast,
    Furious,
    Completely.
    I couldn’t allow myself to do that, so
    I smothered the flame,
    Telling myself that fire burns.
    I quenched the fire inside, even
    If the simple sight of him feeds it.
    I know nothing about love,
    Other than it’s a powerful feeling that shouldn’t
    Be equated with falling
    Or fire.
    Both are dangerous.
    Both break important things,
    Like hearts,
    Like families.

“YOU CAN’T IGNORE ME FOREVER,”
    Trevor says on my voice mail,
    A message he left during his lunchtime.
    “Call me back when you get this.”
    I don’t know what he’s talking about.
    I’ve texted him three times over the past week.
    Of course, each one was an excuse why I couldn’t meet him to shoot, but
    Still.
    “I’m not calling you just because you tell me to,” I mutter to myself
    As I delete the message.
    He’ll get a text, and
    That’s it.
    Me: I’m not ignoring you.
    It’s seventh period, and
    He has world history.
    He might be able to text.
    Trevor: You don’t answer your phone when I call.
    Me: Maybe I’m busy, have you ever thought of that?
    Trevor: Busy doing what?
    I look up from my phone,
    See the same caging walls of my room,
    Where I’ve been for too many days.
    Suddenly, the halls of Copper Hills High don’t sound so bad.
    Except for the outing to the Ferris wheel with Jacey and Rose over the weekend,
    I haven’t left the house.
    Me: Stuff.
    Trevor: Rumor is you’re not coming back to school.
    It’s Monday,
    The sixth day of school I’ve missed.
    Dad excused me again this morning, but
    He’s been leaving me home alone while he goes to work.
    Gramma-Linda is coming over tomorrow to begin homeschool.
    Me: Rumors can be false.
    Trevor: Sometimes they’re true.
    Me: Who did you hear it from?
    Trevor: Jacey.
    I take a deep breath, so
    I won’t hit the call button and tell him off.
    Or end this conversation and
    Call Jacey and demand to know why she told him.
    Then I remember that they’ve been all buddy-buddy lately.
    Me: Fine. It’s true.
    Trevor:
    When he doesn’t text back for ten minutes,
    I take my phone downstairs and
    Plug it in.
    I don’t want to talk to him anyway.

“GET THE DOOR, LIV,”
    Dad yells from his office,
    Where he’s been since he came home early.
    Rose, who got home ten minutes ago, is in the living room,
    Watching TV and snacking on apple chips, but
    Dad thinks she’s not old enough to answer the door by herself.
    I’m in the kitchen,
    Just starting dinner.
    I heave a sigh Dad can’t hear,
    Wipe my hands, and
    Go to answer the door.
    I expect to see Gramma-Linda on the step,
    Her white hair freshly permed,
    Her skin pillow soft and freshly powdered, and
    Her hug a welcome boon to my current situation.
    “Hey, Wings,” greets me when I open the door.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
    I hiss as I look behind me.
    Rose hasn’t moved, and
    Dad won’t come out of his office unless I call for him.
    “Wanted to see what kind of ‘stuff’ you’re doing
    That you can’t answer your phone.”
    He scans me from head to feet,
    Finding me in my pajama pants and an old T-shirt.
    “Yeah, I can tell you’re just so stressed .”
    I look over his shoulder as if Joey or
    Someone from school will be outside,
    Camera ready,
    Paparazzi style.
    “Don’t you have homework or something?”
    I block the doorway with my body, because
    I don’t want him to come in.
    “Yeah, but I thought we could do our next photo shoot first.”
    “You thought wrong.”
    I fold my arms and
    Meet his gaze.
    “I’m busy. Cooking dinner.”
    I give him a glare that says, So there.
    He grins,
    That smile that makes the ember inside me
    Flare into an inferno.
    “No problem,” he says.
    “I can do my calculus while you chop.”

“DERIVATIVES SUCK.”
    I don’t answer,
    Only move the knife I’m wielding
    Through the green peppers a little too forcefully.
    I find