or anything. Obviously, I didn’t tell them about Noah or even that I like to read while taking a bath. It’s none of their business. I guess if I were a book, my cover would be different from what’s on the inside too.
VAPORS
It’s one of those rare spring nights when it’s not too cold, so I roll down the windows on the drive home. I think of Elodie pulling out that little Coach clutch and how fun it was to sprint down the street in a pack, like we were on the run, like real criminals.
I stop at a light and glance at the car next to me. The guy driving it smiles at me. He looks like a pimp. He probably
is
a pimp. I feel like Portland has more pimps and strip clubs per capita than other places, but then again, I’ve never spent much time anywhere else.
I give him a small smile back. I might as well. It’s not like a pimp is going to follow me home and get me to marry him. Then again, maybe he would. I’m relieved when he turns off onto a side street and I drive on throughSouthshore, the pines pointing into the dark sky, reminding all who pass that even if they’re rooted into the ground, the only place you can really grow is up.
Later that night, when my mom’s key turns in the lock, I go into the kitchen to meet her.
“How was your night?” I ask. Her eyeliner is all smudged and flaky.
“Oh, it was lovely, honey,” she says, pouring herself a glass of water and popping some vitamin B12. It’s her favorite hangover cure that doesn’t cure much, but she still swears by it. She throws in a multivitamin, and Lord knows whatever minerals and antiaging pills for good measure, and chugs them all down. “How was your group therapy?”
I shrug. “It’s not really group therapy, but whatever.”
“So you’re not going to do it again?”
“You mean steal stuff?”
My mom glares at me.
“Do I look like an idiot?” I sneer, even though I hate lying to her, especially when she looks all disheveled and sort of lonely standing there.
“Of course not. You don’t need to be so hard on me.” She starts getting teary.
“I’m not!” I say, then I decide,
What the heck,
and I reach out and hug her good night. Her fingers linger on my back for a second, like a vapor drifting above warm liquor that’s just been poured into a frosty glass.
“See you in the morning,” I say. Misty-eyed, my mom nods and smiles at me, making me wish that I’d left the whole hugging part out of the picture, but what can you do? Sometimes it’s nice to be nice.
Coq au Vin
Tonight at dinner, my father asks me
how the program is going.
I take a bite of Jenna’s coq au vin
that she made with a recipe from her French cooking class,
which is weird because she can barely make a salad,
so how is she learning to make French food?
He asks me if I thought shoplifting was worth
the disappointment and embarrassment
and I chew and chew
the same piece of chicken
and he says he doesn’t know why
I would steal
when he works hard so I can afford
whatever I need or want
and then Jenna interrupts to ask
if anyone would like some more
poulet
and even though I can
barely swallow the bite of the never-ending drumstick
I’ve been chewing and chewing
I say,
Yes, please,
and for once, my stepmom’s food
tastes like salvation.
APRIL 9
Seeing Noah flirting with Kayla Lee in the parking lot doesn’t upset me as much as you’d think it would. I walked right past him. I know he saw me, and I’m sure he was wondering where I was going. I like that he doesn’t know what I do after school. He just keeps sending me texts asking me where I go. So far his guesses are:
in training for a beauty pageant, ha-ha (he knows I think Miss America is the most evil thing ever)
singing lessons
needlepoint class
Today he sent me one that said, ARE YOU A SPY?” And I wrote back, YOU’LL NEVER KNOW.
FLOWER
When Brady sees me in the hallway before lunch, he doesn’t look happy. We hooked up a few days ago after school, but I kept the
VAPORS
It’s one of those rare spring nights when it’s not too cold, so I roll down the windows on the drive home. I think of Elodie pulling out that little Coach clutch and how fun it was to sprint down the street in a pack, like we were on the run, like real criminals.
I stop at a light and glance at the car next to me. The guy driving it smiles at me. He looks like a pimp. He probably
is
a pimp. I feel like Portland has more pimps and strip clubs per capita than other places, but then again, I’ve never spent much time anywhere else.
I give him a small smile back. I might as well. It’s not like a pimp is going to follow me home and get me to marry him. Then again, maybe he would. I’m relieved when he turns off onto a side street and I drive on throughSouthshore, the pines pointing into the dark sky, reminding all who pass that even if they’re rooted into the ground, the only place you can really grow is up.
Later that night, when my mom’s key turns in the lock, I go into the kitchen to meet her.
“How was your night?” I ask. Her eyeliner is all smudged and flaky.
“Oh, it was lovely, honey,” she says, pouring herself a glass of water and popping some vitamin B12. It’s her favorite hangover cure that doesn’t cure much, but she still swears by it. She throws in a multivitamin, and Lord knows whatever minerals and antiaging pills for good measure, and chugs them all down. “How was your group therapy?”
I shrug. “It’s not really group therapy, but whatever.”
“So you’re not going to do it again?”
“You mean steal stuff?”
My mom glares at me.
“Do I look like an idiot?” I sneer, even though I hate lying to her, especially when she looks all disheveled and sort of lonely standing there.
“Of course not. You don’t need to be so hard on me.” She starts getting teary.
“I’m not!” I say, then I decide,
What the heck,
and I reach out and hug her good night. Her fingers linger on my back for a second, like a vapor drifting above warm liquor that’s just been poured into a frosty glass.
“See you in the morning,” I say. Misty-eyed, my mom nods and smiles at me, making me wish that I’d left the whole hugging part out of the picture, but what can you do? Sometimes it’s nice to be nice.
Coq au Vin
Tonight at dinner, my father asks me
how the program is going.
I take a bite of Jenna’s coq au vin
that she made with a recipe from her French cooking class,
which is weird because she can barely make a salad,
so how is she learning to make French food?
He asks me if I thought shoplifting was worth
the disappointment and embarrassment
and I chew and chew
the same piece of chicken
and he says he doesn’t know why
I would steal
when he works hard so I can afford
whatever I need or want
and then Jenna interrupts to ask
if anyone would like some more
poulet
and even though I can
barely swallow the bite of the never-ending drumstick
I’ve been chewing and chewing
I say,
Yes, please,
and for once, my stepmom’s food
tastes like salvation.
APRIL 9
Seeing Noah flirting with Kayla Lee in the parking lot doesn’t upset me as much as you’d think it would. I walked right past him. I know he saw me, and I’m sure he was wondering where I was going. I like that he doesn’t know what I do after school. He just keeps sending me texts asking me where I go. So far his guesses are:
in training for a beauty pageant, ha-ha (he knows I think Miss America is the most evil thing ever)
singing lessons
needlepoint class
Today he sent me one that said, ARE YOU A SPY?” And I wrote back, YOU’LL NEVER KNOW.
FLOWER
When Brady sees me in the hallway before lunch, he doesn’t look happy. We hooked up a few days ago after school, but I kept the
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