Free Freakboy by Kristin Elizabeth Clark Page A

thought I’d pass out.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œAnd if I ever find out
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â you touched your cousins,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â I’ll kill you, pervert.”
    He slammed me
    against the tub
    then left.
    Fire blazed up my shoulder, neck,
    but that wasn’t
    the worst feeling.
    I leaned into the peeling wall,
    wondered how long I had till the
    hormones in my system would wear off—
    and added
    Roger to the list            of people I hate.
    I left that night
    when everyone
    was sleeping
    but first I emptied his wallet
    (only time I took anything
    didn’t belong to me).
    Oh—and I called the DMV
    to narc on him
    for his unregistered car.
    Guess you could say
    I sometimes have a problem
    with lettin’ things go.

(Vanessa)
    Sunday Afternoon
    We go to the ballet.
    (I promise bowling afterward
    to make up for his having
    to do a chick thing.)
    At Weiss Performing Arts Center
    the red velvet curtain
    sweeps open to a
    Christmas scene.
    Onstage, children
    dance and fight.
    We slouch,
    bored for most of it
    until the Sugar Plum Fairy
    comes out.
    Brendan, suddenly
    NOT bored,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â leans
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â forward.
    We’re only
    five rows away.
    Is she that sexy?
    Looooong legs
    blond hair
    nothing like
    chestnut-brown me.
    I’m not the jealous type
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â (don’t want to be anyway)
    but he’s practically drooling.
    I want to yank off
    that stupid costume
    wrestle with her
    see how long
    she lasts on the mat.
    The next hour
    seems like five,
    hard seat
    tense neck.
    When it’s finally over
    I drag Brendan from the theater.
    He’s glassy eyed;
    I’m pissed.
    â€œWhat’d you think?” I ask.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â He pauses, suddenly cautious.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œBallet’s not my thing.”
    â€œWhat about the Sugar Plum Fairy?”
    I hate how accusing it sounds.
    Hate my shrill tone.
    Never let them see you jealous .
    Grand-maman’s advice out the window.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “What do you mean?”
    â€œYou couldn’t stop staring.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œI was watching the show.”
    â€œDon’t give me that!”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œWhat are you so mad about?”
    â€œYou liked her!”
    He freezes,
    knowing exactly who
    I’m talking about.
    Then he smiles.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  “Jealous?”
    I’m mortified.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œShe has nothing on you.”
    He kisses me
    and I should feel reassured, right?
    But it’s a distant kiss
    like his mind
    and his lips
    are