Planet Middle School (9 page)

Hiding Out

Shut up in my room for the night,

I jam on my headphones,

and crank the music up so high,

I don’t have to think about why

I just told my best friend

to get lost.

Glee

Friday night,

the lights in the school auditorium

go dim.

A few weeks ago,

KeeLee told me I could invite Jake,

so he’s there, three rows back.

We don’t even wave to each other,

so I have no one to keep me company.

I sigh and silently wish KeeLee luck.

She looks so beautiful, so strong.

The lyrics of Christina Aguilera

fill the room.

“Words can’t bring me down,”

sings KeeLee.

Her voice rubs the air

soft as silk

and I smile knowing

KeeLee doesn’t need luck

after all.

The New Girl

I.

On Saturday,

I jog to the neighborhood

basketball court,

find Santiago

mixing it up

with some new girl.

A minute later,

their game is over

and they leave the court,

laughing at some private joke,

his arm slung across her shoulder

like he owns her.

I reel from the gut punch,

but can’t keep from staring.

There’s something about her,

something familiar.

The naked face,

unpainted lips,

plain hair flipped up

into a ponytail,

dirty sneaks,

boys’ jogging shorts,

oversized shirt.

The new girl,

the old me—

we could be twins.

II.

I collapse

on the park bench,

wait till my heart stops

thundering inside my chest.

I feel something wet on my cheek,

wipe it away with the back of my hand,

and run all the way home.

Aftermath

Two days later,

I’m still mad.

Next team practice,

I snatch the ball

before my turn,

make a mad dash

for the hoop,

and slam the ball like

it’s Santiago’s face.

Coach doesn’t even have to call time.

I bench myself

before he gets the chance.

Fuming

No point being mad

at Santiago.

He didn’t tell me

to try to be

someone else.

Confession

Three days of moping

around the house,

and Mom is wondering why.

She bugs me

till I tell her about

Santiago,

the dumb things I did

to get his attention,

and the new girl

who didn’t have to do

anything at all.

Mom listens, pushes the hair

from my forehead,

and asks me:

“Why do you care so much

whether he likes you?”

It’s a hard question

and I take time to think

before I answer.

“Because—

because he makes

my heart beat fast.”

“Oh, honey,” Mom says,

“he may be the first,

but I promise you,

he won’t be the last.”

Then she holds me close

long enough for me to leave

a puddle on her shoulder,

long enough for me to feel

some of the hurt drain away.

The Call

One night

the phone rings.

Mom answers the call

then gives me the news

and the world falls away.

Some man was in his car

texting.

He never saw Jake

till it was too late.

S.O.S.

16 and ¼ blocks

from my house to

Columbia Presbyterian Hospital.

14 and ¼ blocks.

I run

counting each one.

12 and ¼ blocks.

Keeping count

gives me something

to concentrate on.

10 and ¼ blocks.

Something other than

my fear.

8 and ¼ blocks.

6 and ¼ blocks.

Oh, Lord.

Please!

3 and ¼ blocks.

I’m coming, Jake!

I’m coming!

Room 321

Room 321.

That’s what the nurse told me.

The elevator groans

all the way up

to the third floor.

How long did I stand

outside his door,

afraid to go in,

afraid not to?

Why did I fight with him?

Jake is worth

ten Santiagos.

He’s my friend.

What if Jake doesn’t forgive me?

What if he doesn’t wake up

long enough to try?

Hand shaking,

I grab the doorknob,

take a deep breath,

and push.

Vigil

Jake’s mom

leaves us in the room alone.

I sit on the edge of his bed,

one hand holding his,

the other wiping

a stupid tear

from my cheek.

If I start bawling

like some little girl,

Jake will never let me

live it down.

I swallow hard

and give his hand a squeeze.

When he doesn’t squeeze back

I die inside.

I lay my head down

on his blanket

and fight for breath.

When I can’t stand

his stillness anymore,

I stumble out the door.

Concussion

Even the word sounds

like it could break you.

The doctor says

it’s why Jake is still asleep.

But if the doctor’s so smart,

how come he can’t say

when my friend will wake up?

Or if?

I need an aspirin.

Visiting Hours Are Over

I take the stairs down

to the ground floor

so I can cry

in secret.

Once outside,

the cold air clears my mind.

I text KeeLee,

ask her to talk to God,

and to put in a good word

for Jake.

Gift

The next afternoon, I’m back

determined to get through to Jake.

I lean over his bed,

give him a shake.

“Enough already!”

I tell him.

“Wake up!”

That’s when

Jake slowly opens his eyes

and gives me the shadow

of a grin.

It feels like Christmas.

“Hey,” says Jake.

“Hey,” I say,

and suddenly I know

this is all the conversation

I’m in the mood for.

Standing Watch

24 hours later,

I change my mind.

I want to hear more

than a word or two.

I want to see Jake move.

His stillness stops my heart.

Jake? Are you in there?

The Old Jake

Sitting up in bed,

laughing with his nurse,

the old Jake

sees me at the door,

fakes a shot

with an imaginary ball.

“Nothing but net!” he says,

then waves me in.

That’s my Jake.

I can breathe again.

Peg-Leg

That’s my new name for Jake.

Lucky for him

the driver wasn’t going that fast

so the only thing broken

was his leg.

Still, he’s pretty banged up.

But after watching Jake

for a few days,

the doctors

get him and his cast

up on crutches

and send him home.

That’s good for me

’cause I’m worn out from running

back and forth

those 16 and ¼ blocks

to see him.

I Hate to Say It

I drop by Jake’s after school,

find him in front of the television.

He makes a place for me

on the couch.

I grab the remote

mute the sound,

and get to the point:

“I’m sorry about our fight, Jake.

You were right.”

The words are out

before I know it.

(What was it I said to Caden

about sticking with

who you really are?)

I tell Jake about

Santiago and the new girl,

and how ridiculous I feel.

“Don’t call yourself ridiculous!”

Jake is quick to say.

“That’s
my
job!”

It takes me a minute

to tell that he’s joking,

to catch his grin.

But when I do,

I punch him in the arm,

smiling at my friend,

glad to have us back.