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Authors: Gabrielle Prendergast

Tags: #JUV057000, #JUV039190, #JUV013000

BOOK: Capricious
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I worry and wonder

If I've stupidly succumbed to

The mother of all screwups.

HOLIDAY HOURS

Women's clinics should be like peep shows

With discreet private booths.

Instead I transgress a line of protestors

Who should be getting ready for Easter

If they're as Christian as they claim.

I give the finger to each and every one

And wait with weeping girls

Churlish, chastened boys

And a few disappointed mothers

To speak to a nurse counselor

About morning-afters.

You might have some cramping
, she says

And gives me a box of condoms

For
next time

Before running through some thought-provoking

questions

Are you safe at home?

Are you safe with your boyfriend?

Yes, I say

I would love to explain to her

That I felt so safe with Samir in my bed

That I never wanted to leave.

I wanted to pull the sheet over our heads

And cocoon us in that soft cotton world.

At the thought

My eyes fill with tears

Happy ones

But who can tell the difference?

So she says,

Is there anything else you want to talk about
?

MY LIFE

Yes, my life

I say

As if that provides adequate parameters

For the rest of my fifteen minutes.

The nurse only nods

Her pencil poised to record

Anything pertinent.

I only moved here last year, I say

And I went to a new school

And I thought things might be different

Better, but in fact

They were much, much worse.

I met this boy, Samir

And he was so special

And so right for me

And wrong

That my brain kind of frazzled

And thought it would be a good idea

To take a picture of my pussy

And turn it into art

To display at school.

I pause there

Giving the poor woman time

To write something down.

I heard of this case,
she says

That was you?

You were arrested, right?

I nod

And take a deep breath

Because I feel a little faint

Like my history is blood

And I'm pouring it onto the floor.

Another boy

David is his name

He put the picture on Facebook

And sent it to a younger friend

Who is a MORMON for God's sake

And would you believe

He wants to date my sister?

Anyway, his parents weren't impressed

Or people you want to trifle with.

I breathe again

I breathe

The threads of David and Samir

Tangling and untangling in my mind.

So that was bad enough, I go on

Then this girl, Genie

Took against me

I think she was jealous

Of the attention I was getting

Kids started writing on this wall

Messages of support and unity

I think I became kind of a folk hero

For about five minutes.

But Genie also had a thing for Samir

So she framed him

For a hate crime

And he was going to get arrested too

And everything I tried to do

To fix it

Only made it worse

So we thought we'd run away

But his father caught us together

And even though he was

Surprisingly understanding

I screwed it up again

And ran off

Because something came back

From my old life

And blew me to pieces.

I wait

Breathing

Blinking the stars from my eyes

I see
, the nurse says

And what was that?

DARKNESS

I feel sorry for her

Because I know she's imagining the worst

Some boy mashing me down

Behind a car

Outside a party

That kind of thing.

But before I open my mouth

And tell her what really happened

I remember only four people know

Mom, Dad, Kayli

And Samir, kind of.

I haven't even told David.

So instead I say

       My baby brother died

       When I was nine

The half-lie slips out

Slippery as a newborn seal

       It upsets me sometimes.

Upsets you?

She consults her notes

“Blew me to pieces,” you said

That sounds like a bit more than upset

Can you tell me more?

How did he die
?

It's easy enough to cry

Over the brother I never had

I only ever saw a photo

Of his tiny unfinished feet

My tears seem to satisfy her

So I don't explain.

There are only two women

I trust in the whole world

And she's not one of them.

TWO WOMEN

Mom

Because she bore me

She has to love me.

And Kayli

Because in the end

She needs me

As much as

I need her.

BUT BOYS ON THE OTHER HAND

Sometimes I think of David

With his cell phone

Snickering as he took a picture

And sent it to his friends.

I don't like the memory

It seemed so unlike him

The considerate boy

I know now.

What did he think

At that moment?

Did he think my art was a joke?

He apologizes repeatedly

For the catastrophe he unleashed on me

Until his remorse gets tiresome

But still I wonder at the impulse

That made him do it.

Like the impulse that Samir got

To reject me and take me back

Deactivate and reactivate our love

Like an email account.

I've told them I forgive them

And I think I do

But maybe that's just

A misguided impulse too.

MORE QUESTIONS

David asks

Are you ready?

I mean, are you sure?

He's worried about me because

He knows school is hard to endure.

And Mom says

We could finish the year at home

You'll pass your exams easily

She's worried about me because

She understands fragility.

And Kayli says

Try not to get arrested

Or cause another revolution

She's worried about me because

She's seen my trails of destruction.

And Dad says

Get on the bus and come to my office

Anytime you can't manage

He's worried about me because

He's the one who pays for the damage.

And I say to myself

Get it together this time, for real

High school is not brain surgery

I'm not worried because

Well…not really.

(SECOND) FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL

I text Samir first thing

Public or private?

And get the answer I expect.

Private,
he texts

Because someone will blab

And

We'll

Be

Back

Where

We

Started.

Both God and Allah know

No one wants to be there.

And I too would rather avoid

The judgment

The gossip

The assumptions

The jealousy

And all the other

Bullshit

That high school

L.O.V.E.

Involves.

But still

It sucks that

Of all the things

Samir feels

For me

One

Has to be

Shame.

THE FREEDOM WALL

I find it

The Freedom Wall

Where my classmates

Recorded their outrage

The black scribbles have expanded

To cover the whole wall

A bucket of felt pens

Invites me to add my mark.

The school endorses the Freedom Wall now

With reservations:

No Swearing,
a small sign says

Someone has commented
fuck that

My body, my decision

Someone wrote
Ella Rocks

And someone else,
Ella Sux

And a third,
Who is Ella
?

Good question.

She's a bitch and a slut,

Someone answers

Helpfully.

Pretty sure I know

Who wrote that.

As for me

I barely remember being Ella

Barely remember anything

Before I was arrested

And charged

And acquitted for making pornography

Before my life fell apart

Before a piece of art

Reversed my

Rebirth and

Redefined me

Again

As Raphaelle.

THE CENTER PANEL

I still have it

That offending

Offensive

Photograph

Of the most

Intimate

Part

Of me.

I still love it

Like a Georgia O'Keeffe

Pink orchid petals

Hidden

In the back of my closet.

I still think

It's the best thing

I've ever done

And it was all worth it

Because of the Freedom Wall

Because of Samir

Because of David

None of that

Would have happened

If it wasn't for that little word

That starts with
C
.

Now I add

A curly Celtic
C

In the top left corner

Of the Freedom Wall

A bold varsity
U

In the top right

A scrolled
N

In the bottom left

A
T
like a crucifix

In the bottom right.

I don't sign my name

I'm wicked

Not stupid.

PRINCIPLES AND PRINCIPALS

I get called to the principal's office

Before the first bell even rings

And have to check the mental record

Of my recent history

Wondering if anything I've done

Warrants another expulsion.

My cornerstone embellishments

To the Freedom Wall?

My deflowering

Of a devout Muslim

On the mudroom stairs?

I would love to tell

Principal Pinch Face

The depths of my depravity

But he begins with a peace offering

Such as it is.

I'd like us to start fresh,
he says

As though you're just new at this school

And I know nothing of your record
.

My “permanent record”

I try not to smirk

Maybe the threats are all true.

Maybe that will never leave me.

Scarlet letters

AGITATOR
stamped on my forehead.

Traditionally
, he continues

The seniors plan a winter trip

This coming winter is New York.

We fundraise for about half the cost

And students contribute the rest

About a thousand dollars each.

It's his turn to smirk

As if saying

I dare you.

ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS

My parents could probably afford it.

But Pinch Face knows I'm proud

And knows there's 15 percent unemployment

In this college town

And knows how “difficult” I am

And that everyone knows it.

He has just done that thing

That bad teachers do

When they make it clear

They think you'll amount to nothing

But trouble.

I could tell him

To take his New York trip

And shove it up his ass

Because it will just be

A bunch of high-school kids

Taking tours and shopping.

On the other hand

I'm pretty sure

There's something

Greater

Waiting for me

In New York.

WORK

I try to imagine

What kind of job

I could do

What kind of employer

Would tolerate me.

I try to picture myself

In a blue fast-food uniform

Or Walmart smock

Or mowing lawns

Or bussing tables.

I try to think

Of a way

To earn a thousand dollars

Without breaking laws

Or losing my mind.

I try to steel myself

For the tedium

The pedantic boss

The dull-witted co-workers

The canned music.

I try to swallow

The humiliating thought

That one day

No matter how hard I try

I'll probably turn into my mother.

THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER

In happier moments

I imagined my return to school

Like the end of a movie.

I imagined crowds of new friends

Drawn to me by notoriety

Wanting part of my famous wall

United in scorn against convention

Expectation and judgment.

I imagined the ones who sided with me

Gathering around cheering

Slapping me on the back

Maybe even laying palm fronds at my feet.

I imagined I would slip back into school

And find it finally fit me

Comfortable as a pair of worn pajamas

But more flattering.

In happier moments

I imagined a circle of girlfriends

Who didn't make me

Hyperventilate.

In darker moments

I pictured slinking in

Past the smokers

The gossiping girls

The leering boys

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