Crank by Ellen Hopkins Page B

"nice"?
    231
     
    I
    want to hear all about your trip. Let
     
     
    me know when you're ready.
     
    Big girls don't cry, especially
    not in front of their mommies.
    But a cloudburst threatened.
     
    I
    hope you're hungry. I'm making
     
     
    your favorite
    --
    lasagna and garlic bread.
     
    I was hungry (somehow).
    I was tired (still). I was hurting (inside and out).
    And more than ever, I wanted to walk with the monster.
    232
     
     
     
    Over
    Lasagna and Garlic Bread
     
    I talked about airplanes.
    I talked about lonely seatmates, third-run movies, and pretzels
    (for this price!) in place of meals.
    * *
    I talked about Albuquerque, bowling alley
    etiquette, Los Alamos-grown cockroaches, and walk-ups in decidedly bad neighborhoods
    (omitting the part about my own little nighttime foray).
    * *
    With some prodding, I talked about Dad, his job, and (lack of) girlfriends;
    I talked about his philosophy, somehow sadly yet to ripen into something resembling maturity.
    * *
    With a lot more prodding,
    I talked about Adam aka Buddy
    (omitting everything of use to anyone
    interested in blackmail).
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    Considering his recent treachery, it was easy enough not to gush about his hot bod, wildcat eyes, incredibly perfect lips, and intuitive hands.
    * *
    And, mostly because everyone knew it anyway, I talked about how, despite his undying love, he had given us both
    permission to date other people.
    234
     
     
     
    Lei
    gh
    Knew
     
    there was a whole lot
    more to the story, of course.
    But I'd never
    told her secrets, and trusted
    completely she would
    never betray
    mine.
    Still, just in case, I
    never dared
    mention
    sex, interrupted by periods;
    Lince, interrupted by drugs;
    235
    or my own
    infatuation with the monster's
    spectacular
    rock and roll.
    No, these
    secrets
    belonged strictly in my own
    private closet.
    236
     
     
     
    Later
     
    Leigh climbed into my bed, moved very close to me, her proximity strangely
    unsettling.
     
    Want to talk? I do.
     
     
    I miss how we used to talk.
     
    I recalled a time, not so long
    ago, when snuggling with my big sister was comforting.
     
    Tell me more about Adam. Is he
    really your very first boyfriend?
     
    So why did it bother me now, when I so needed the consolation of touch?
     
    I'll
    tell you about Heather. She's
     
     
    not my first, but she tops the list.
     
    Heather? Lesbians had names like
    Bobbi or Jo, didn't they?
    "Heather" belonged to a model or cheerleader.
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    She's a cheerleader. Well, a song
     
     
    leader, and pretty much perfect.
     
    Leigh was almost perfect herself.
     
    If she were taller,
    she
    could be a model. Picture-perfect
     
    lesbians. I had to laugh.
     
    What are you laughing about?
    Didn't
     
     
    know cheerleaders were my type?
     
     
    Didn't know cheerleaders could
    be
     
    that type. Which got me thinking.
    What else might those peppy
    cheerleaders do?
    238
     
     
     
    I
    Tucked That Away
     
    And tried to focus on my sister
    going on and on about being in love with a girl: their meeting, touching
    accidentally, connecting
    immediately, interwoven
    hand in hand, heart-to-heart.
    And even though I loved my sister
    had accepted her eccentricities
    I found it hard
    239
    to listen to detailed
    descriptions, abstract
    ambitions, relevant
    observations, hers and mine.
    240
     
     
     
    W
    ild Waters Day Dawned
     
    hot, crystal blue--perfect for watery fun.
    I donned my new bikini, disguised the tattoo beneath a hot pink
    gauze cover-up, and on some lunatic whim
    called Sarah to come along.
    * *
    While
    waiting in line, we ran into Trent, another longtime friend, who on his 16th birthday made the huge mistake of climbing out of the closet and waving a big hello.
    * *
    Of course, I was good with it. We were best buds, no matter what, and, of course, there was the Leigh factor. But
    others in our school were not quite so open-minded.
    * *
    Since he outed, Trent
    had been teased, humiliated, beaten, even
    semitortured by some pickup
    truck cowboys