Free Something About Love: A YA contemporary romance in verse by Elana Johnson Page B

angry.
    “You have no idea what I care about.”
    I suddenly hate myself for saying those words, because
    I’ve heard my mom say them to my dad.
    I hated her when she said them too,
    When she told him he didn’t know her,
    Didn’t make an effort to like what she liked, and
    Therefore, she couldn’t be married to him anymore.
    I hate the things I see in myself that come from her, including
    Wanting to be with a Youngblood.
    “I know you come alive behind that camera.”
    Trevor doesn’t slow down enough for the right turn he takes, and
    I almost fly into the window.
    “I know you care—”
    “Shut up!” I yell.
    “You do not know what I care about, or
    Don’t care about.”
    My chest heaves, and
    I feel hot everywhere.
    “You have not been part of my life for
    A long time, and
    You do not—
    Know me.”
    “I know more than you think.”
    His voice is tight,
    Controlled,
    Unlike mine which
    Has pitched too high and
    Come out too loud.
    He’s driving so fast, and
    I’m so furious, and
    For a few terrible minutes,
    I think that’s it,
    That he won’t say anything else,
    That he’ll simply speed to his dad’s and
    Drop me off.
    Then he slows,
    Turns away from the Youngbloods, and
    Picks his way toward my house.
    He stops in the driveway, but
    I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.
    It’s my mom’s weekend, and
    She’ll be pissed if I stay here.
    “You’re wrong,” Trevor says to his window.
    “I do know you;
    I know everything about you,
    Down to the pencil-thin lines on your toes, and
    The reason you cut your hair so short.
    I know you do that to make your mom mad, and
    I know you get tattoos to teach yourself a lesson.
    I know you love Rose more than anything, and
    I know you blame your mom for more than you should.
    I know you have a strange affinity for lemon sorbet, and
    I know you adore absolutely everything about photography.
    You’re a good cook;
    A good student;
    A good friend.”
    His voice finally wisps into silence, which
    Is only broken as
    I start to cry.

“DID JACEY TELL YOU ABOUT THE TATTOOS?”
    I ask after I’ve managed to stem the tears.
    I’m not sure if I was crying because
    He does know me, or
    If I’m angry he knows about my lemon sorbet fetish, and
    My tattoos, and
    That I blame Mom for not just some things, but
    For everything.
    He doesn’t understand;
    Jacey doesn’t either.
    I will not be like my mother, and
    Every time I see her,
    I’m reminded of how much
    I am exactly like her.
    “Well? Did she?” I ask again,
    Hoping for something else to focus on besides
    The fact that my mom—a beast—left my dad—a good guy.
    Beasts do not deserve good guys, and
    I will not destroy Trevor
    The way my mom ruined my dad.
    Trevor shakes his head,
    A movement I can barely see, because
    Darkness has descended.
    “I know you, Wings,” he says.
    “Whether you like it or not,
    Whether you’ll admit it or not.”
    He turns toward me now, and
    There is nothing between us.
    No secrets.
    No lies.
    No masks.
    No camera.
    I wish I could see inside his mind and
    Find out what he’s thinking.
    Right now, he looks vulnerable,
    Yet strong.
    “I want to be with you,” he says,
    Laying it all out.
    Click.
    I see the desperation in his face.
    Click.
    I see him wipe it away,
    Shut himself off.
    “Another thing I know:
    You want to be with me too.”
    I open my mouth to protest, but
    The words die.
    He’s already seen into my soul
    And my soul
    Doesn’t lie.
    “You should set up that camera
    To take some selfies,” he says,
    The self-assured Trevor returning as
    He smiles.
    “You’re always bragging about how you can
    See the soul through your lens.
    Maybe then you’d be able to see yourself and
    What you really want.”
    “You’re unbelievable,” I say, but
    The words have no anger behind them because
    He might be right.
    He’s been right about so much already.
    “So I’ll wait,” he says,
    Reaching for the keys and
    Starting the car.
    He pulls into the street