Authors: Ellen Hopkins
Tags: #Psychopathology, #Young Adult Fiction, #Psychology, #Family, #Drug abuse, #Family problems, #Social Issues, #Drugs; Alcohol; Substance Abuse, #General, #Parents, #Addiction, #Fiction, #Juvenile Fiction, #Novels in verse, #Problem families, #Romance, #Dating & Sex, #Health & Fitness, #Schools, #Cocaine abuse, #Pregnancy & Childbirth, #High schools, #Pregnancy
* *
Took a cigarette, bummed a light, and with a soft "thanks"
tried to amble away.
Hey. Where ya going?
You ain't in a hurry, are
ya?
* *
They weren't big, not football
players, but I was outnumbered and felt it.
Yeah, what kind of
thanks is that?
* *
The circle tightened, moving me back, away from the safety of the street.
Damn, you are
a fine little piece.
113
Think. Think! But my brain
moved too fast to process well.
My eyes gave it away.
Yo. I think this bitch
been crankin'.
* *
That was license enough. Bodies
bumped, pushed me into a doorway, blocked escape.
Ever done a three-fer?
You gonna love it, baby.
114
H
ands
covered my mouth, rough, held my arms, strong, ripped my clothes, vicious.
* *
Fear danced up my spine, jolted
my brain, dripped onto the ground.
* *
No!
I
screamed into dirty
flesh.
Not
this way!
115
Buttons burst, zippers
opened,
I closed my
eyes, braced for pain.
116
And Then I Heard
a familiar voice
Hey dudes.
Whatcha doin'?
* *
Adam took
command.
You not bothering
that little girl?
* *
The trio
pulled back, straightened up.
'Cause that just
isn't right.
* *
Glared.
Stared.
Half issued a challenge.
Nah, man. No need
to fight. Besides...
117
Adam pointed to a black and white, two blocks
away and closing.
You know what they do
to rapists in prison?
118
Three Raiders Jackets
faded into the night, dissolving like silver and black nightmares.
* *
Adam folded me gently into his arms, kissed my sobs, stilled my quaking.
Don't cry, Bree. It's okay now.
* *
The patrol car drew
even, slowed to a crawl, window
rolled down, inquiring.
Remember, you're buzzed. Stay cool.
* *
Glad he was there, scared he was there, I dug deep for a smile, waved the cop away.
Come on. Let's go home.
119
I Held Tight
to his shirt
all the way home, clung fast like a paranoid kitten.
Dad wasn't there, no doubt bowling off his own buzz, so I asked Adam in.
* *
We stayed up all
night, smoking, talking, I struggle to remember
exactly what
about.
* *
Boys
Chicks
School
Detention
Art
Sports
Reno
Albuquerque
Mom
Mom
Dad
Long-gone Dad
120
Stepdads
Boyfriends
Gay sister
O.D.'d
brother
Buddy
Bree
Adam
Kristina
Love
Love
121
Dawn Broke
A rose-colored rain over distant hills.
* *
We kissed for about the thousandth time,
* *
No promises, no demands,
* *
Just solid rebuilding of shattered trust.
* *
Then I said it.
He said it too.
* *
I
love you.
* *
And everything
that went before
* *
meant nothing.
122
A
bout That Time
Dad stumbled in, looking like the monster
had boogied on off.
You still up?
* *
Up, and flying high.
Was I supposed to go to sleep?
Better get some sleep.
* *
I walked Adam to the door, promised to see him later.
You two didn't do anything
I wouldn't do. Did you?
* *
No way, Daddy dearest.
And where were you
when I needed you?
'Cause a girl could get
into real trouble.
123
Clueless
Dad went to bed.
I laid on the couch, closed my eyes, let the night slip into replay.
* *
Exhilarating, rocketing into my
mind, reaching
unimagined
highs.
* *
Depressing, knowing when
I left, Adam would
stay. Would he downplay
* *
spectacular
times together, forget the best, remember the lows?
124
As if I had
never entered his life, never existed, would he toss
* *
all promise of tomorrow, tumble headlong into old
routines?
* *
As if he had never
told me he loved me?
125
I
Was Supposed to Sleep?
Thoughts bulleted in my brain, ricocheting, creative side to practical side, lustful half to hateful half.
Sleep? Yeah, right.
* *
I got up, located cleanser and sponge, scrubbed the bathroom, washed the dishes, waxed the kitchen floor.
* *
Wrote a four-page
letter to my sister, told her I was in love.
With a boy.
I think I asked for her forgiveness.
126
Wrote a poem, an epic, tinged with dark humor, decided to give it to my mom because this was all her fault.
Somehow.
* *
Went to the bathroom, considered my growling stomach, but the thought of food made me want to heave.
Settled for a beer. That went down fine, so I had another.
And another.
127
After the Fourth
No more writing paper, nothing left to clean,
I turned on the TV, thanked God for the
Jerry Springer marathon, six great hours, filled with pitiful people, whose lives were way
worse than my own.
Hard to believe the world is such a screwed-up place.
128
I needed food, sleep, but the monster denied
every bit of it.
Playing wasted couch
potato was all that I
could ask for.
And more.
Fading speed buzz, escalating alcohol, it was all I could
do to stay upright.
So I didn't.
129
U
sed Up
Burned out, adrift on a sea of uncertain synapses, a place where
your eyes
refuse to focus and your brain
refuses to function.
* *
Somewhere between the transvestite who slept with his
(her?)
mother's boyfriend and the perky
blond
(transvestite?)
evening
weathergirl.
130
Everything
shut
down, cerebral
ghost
town.
I
fell
into
sleep.
Deep, dream-free
sleep.
131
W
oke to Pounding
on the door, insistent vibration, building noise.
Bree? You there?
* *
Late-day sun
filtered through cracks in the blinds.
It's me. Open up.
* *
Late-day? How
long had
I slept? Only
hours?
I need to talk to you.
* *
Twenty hours, as it turned
out. I tried to open my eyes.
Please, Bree?
132
Adam's tone
forced me into the moment.
"Hang on."
Something happened.
* *
My mouth tasted like dead speed, dying beer, and foreboding.
There was an accident.
133
C
oming
Jumped up, dashed for mouthwash, forgetting the uncertainty
* * of legs, unused for twenty hours, but spurred to confront the fear
* * in his voice, and something more, something too like guilt.
Oh God, who was in the mirror? Not Bree, not Kristina, but some
evil
* *
incarnation glaring
back at me, a horrid
red-eyed crone, materialized
134
as if from darkest
dementia, nightmares to come, hibernating inside of me.
135
I
Filled the Sink
with cold water, dunked my whole head
under, counted to ten, came up, repeated the process.
* *
Came up again and she had retreated, still close,
I suspected, but far enough to let me
go to the door.
136
H
is Demon Showed in His Eyes
He stumbled in, tumbled against me, clutching like a scared little boy, in need of his mama's grace.
* *
She's hurt real bad.
Who?
Lince.
What?
Fell (or jumped) off the balcony.
When?
Yesterday.
Where?
Right outside.
* *
I didn't
dare ask
why.
Instead,
I let him
cry.
137
He
Told Me Why Anyway
She c
ame home from the bowling alley, went looking for me.
Found me.
Here, with you.
* *
Heard us inside, talking, laughing.
Looked in the window, watched us kissing, watched my hands, running all up an' down you.
* *
When your dad came home,
she
waited for me to come outside.
Said she wanted to talk.
But she wanted more than that.
She wanted to erase you from my heart.
Never could, Bree.
Never could.
And that's what
I told her.
138
The monster rose up hard then, hard in her eyes,
She looked like an animal, crazy mad, diseased.
Spit in every word, she swore
she'd get back at you, at me.
* *
Next thing I knew, she was on the sidewalk below, still, except for the blood running
red from her head.
* *
They say it was an accident, she tripped, or leaned over too far.
Crankin', they said, and she was.
Oh, yes, she was.
139
That's what I wanna believe.
Maybe someday I can.
* *
But
right now I think something different.
* *
I never saw it coming.
Never thought she would.
I would have stopped her.
* *
Could I have stopped her?
140
My
Brain Somersaulted
My heart picked up speed, my stomach threatened to 86 guilt, drowning in bile.
Oh, God. I'm sorry.
Hold me.
* *
I wrapped him tight, hair dripping cool around the stiffness of his shoulders.
Not your fault.
Whose, then?
* *
The answer, hanging over my head like a stubborn black cloud, seemed obvious.
Mine.
Don't say that.
141
I pictured Guinivere, golden-eyed wildcat, crumpled against the sad, cracked cement.
Whose then?
Plenty
of blame to go around.
* *
Too much truth in that.
And I never heard a thing, dead to the world for twenty hours.
142
We
Sat on the Floor
Tangled up in each other, a knot of emotions
desperate for release.
* *
And the more we kissed, the more we talked, the more confused we became.
* *
He loved me. He loved her.
He loved her first.