flashlight shining on it from different angles.
He could not know how beautiful my moon was
and how hard I worked on it.
The worst part about all thisâ
worse than having my moon stolenâ
is that Iâm now in Group B,
and I wonât win first prize.
And Davidâs water mill
moved into my spot in Group A.
David wonât look at me
as we stand beside our projects,
waiting for the results.
Bad Dreams
You know
those bad dreams
that make you glad
they were only dreams?
I wish
I could wake up
from bad days.
Learning Japanese
Tuesday after the Science Groove,
Karen and Kim sit at a table in the cafeteria
and hang their pocketbooks on the chairs.
I take my tray over to them, and ask,
âDo you still want to learn Japanese?â
âYes,â they say, nodding so hard the table teeters.
âTeach us some words.â
âOkay, hereâs oneâ
baka
.â
â
Baka
,â they repeat. âWhatâs that mean?â
âWell, itâs hard to translate . . . but itâs a sign
of respect,â I say,
and hold my hand over my mouth like Mama.
This is fun.
âLike, you say it to teachers?â
âThatâs right. And your parents.â
âIs that what your mom says to your dad?â
âAll the time,â I say,
and pick up my tray to go.
âSit with us,â they say,
and smile.
Thatâs when I stop laughing
and almost tell them the truth.
Thatâs when I wish I could tell them
how much it hurts and how lonely I feelâ
which is why I just taught them a word
my mom would be ashamed to know
that I know.
Party Snacks
Next Friday is the last day of school, so
Mr. Pease is holding up a sheet of paper
in homeroom. âQuiet down, students.
Please sign-up for our end-of-the year party.
You can bring any kind of snack,
like brownies or potato chips.â
He gives the paper to Robert
in the first seat in the first row.
When it comes around to me,
I write
Sushi
, even though I havenât asked Mama
if sheâll make it.
Then I look at what Iâve written
and think of the faces
the kids will make when they see the sushi
and the tone of their voices
when they ask, âYou eat raw fish?â
even though that sushi would have cooked shrimp
and eggs
and vegetables,
or maybe hot dogs.
So I cross out
Sushi
and write
Chocolate chip cookies
.
The End of the Beginning
Itâs the last day of school.
The last day of my seventh grade.
And the last class of my last day
of seventh grade
is English.
Mr. Pease is handing back our journals.
When he gives me mine,
he holds it a second longer,
and says, âVery good, Miss Oliver.â
I open it
and flip through the pages.
Mr. Pease wrote things like
Very good
and
Very observant
and
Really
?
And he marked spelling mistakes.
I skip past the pages
where I know Iâve said things
that werenât kind or respectful
about other people.
But when I get to the last page,
I see a big, red A+
and next to that:
I enjoyed reading this very much
and
I do know you better.
Please keep writing poetryâ
you have a
gift
.
Iâm glad it has helped Mr. Pease know me.
But even better,
it has helped me know myself.
Summer
1969
The Question
Papaâs last class ended today,
and college is over for the year, too.
Weâre eating supper on the picnic table in the backyard
because the air is warm and soft
as the sky turns colors.
The quarter moon is a shell on the sunsetâs shore.
Papa puts down his fork
and leans his elbows on the table.
I slap a mosquito on my arm
and wait for him to talk.
âWe have a decision to make,â he says.
âIâve been here for two semesters,
and you and Mama have been here almost six months.
If itâs not working out for you, we can leave.
Someone offered me another teaching position today, in Texas.â
âDoes that mean weâll have to move