Freakboy by Kristin Elizabeth Clark

you
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  and we like Brendan,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  but we don’t like you together.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?”
    My hands are fists.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œYou’re so different around him,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â always agreeing with everything he says
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â like you don’t have your own opinions
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€”and we never see you
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â when you’re not with him.”
    â€œThat’s not true.”
    God, I can’t believe her!
    â€œI’m here right now, aren’t I?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Because he’s busy, right?”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Julie puts the lid on the polish,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  clinks the bottle on her desk.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  A bossy, decisive sound.
    â€œNo.” A twinge at the lie.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “It’s all Brendan this and Brendan that!
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  We used to think it was because
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  you’d just started going out
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  but it’s been over a year!”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  Adjusts cotton between her toes.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  No smeared pedi here.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “You’re worse than ever
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  and, no offense, we’re sick of it!”
    They talk behind my back?
    What bitches!
    My eyes narrow
    at her green toes.
    â€œThat’s a perfect color for you!
    You’re just jealous!”
    I slam out
    of her room.
    Her mom looks up from her computer
    when I rush through the family room
    on my way out. But I don’t bother
    to say goodbye.
    Julie doesn’t come after me
    doesn’t even call my name.
    Driving away,
    tears
    behind my eyes,
    a tightness
    in my throat.
    I tell myself
    over and over
    I don’t need Julie OR Tanya—
    I have Brendan.

(BRENDAN)
    Busy Schedules
    mean rare family dinners
    but tonight the candles are lit
    and the table is set.
    And if I needed
    to be reminded
    of how lucky I am
    that there’s not more
    together time for us
    I’d look no farther
    than the other end of the table
    where Claude the Interloper
    sits—ranting.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “… and I told Twinkletoes that
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  if he had issues with
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  my conducting he should
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  bring them to me, damn it!”
    My mother, seated to his right,
    makes a soothing sound.
    Across from Mom,
    Courtney plays with
    the food on her plate.
    Lining up short noodles,
    oblivious to the Interloper’s
    crappy idea
    of dinnertime conversation.
    We’ve been treated
    to this topic,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â this opinion
    before.
    A year ago, Simon Adderly,
    spiffy new first violinist,
    turned out to be a
    â€œspecial friend” of Viktor Jensen,
    the orchestra’s executive director.
    And now whenever Simon
    has questions about anything—
    say the tempo
    for some piece of music,
    the Interloper comes home and
    explodes into tirades
    about this “light in the loafers” guy.
    (And people in the arts
    are supposed to be more enlightened?
    Another stereotype bites the dust.)
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “There’s no way he’d be
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  bringing it up at all
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  if he