Free Identical by Ellen Hopkins Page A

me straight
    from Halloween to Easter.
    I definitely do candy, so I’m great
    with those noncelebrations.
    Halloween is actually stupid,
    unless you’re under twelve.
    I know some adults like to dress
    up (or down) in costumes,
    drink too much, and ogle
    one another. I remember Mom
    and Daddy doing that when
    Raeanne and I were little.
    But I totally think everyone
    past middle school really ought
    to give it a break. Except maybe
    witches and vampires. I don’t
    believe in werewolves. But moon
    worship, bonfires, and—oh yeah,
    especially—a little bloodletting
    seem like reasonable things to me.
    I doubt anyone here at the old
    folks’ home would want to play
    those games. But they are having
    a Halloween party. William, dressed
    up like a pirate? Greta, maybe
    a French maid? Ha! Too funny.
    I was invited, and, thinking about
    it, I might just have to go.
    Sounds like more fun than spending
    the evening answering the doorbell
    and topping off greedy kids’ pillowcases.

I’m Almost to Work
    When a car beeps and slows
    to a stop nearby. It’s a truly
    forgettable vehicle—a well-
    used Toyota something, silver.
    The surprise is who’s driving.
    Brittany. She and I have known
    each other for years. But not
    well enough to swap secrets.
    Hey, girl! Bet you can’t guess
    what I did this afternoon.
    She pauses, and must decide
    I’m really dense. Like my ride?
    “Hmm. Let me see. Did you
    get a haircut? No. Manicure?
    Nah. Your nails look awful.
    Oh. What did you say?
    Something about…your ride?”
    I smile. “Got your license, huh?
    Oh hey, did you leave school early?
    You missed all the excitement.”
    I heard about it on the news.
    Top of the hour on the radio.
    Not the best radio, but at
    least I’ve got tunes.
    My smile grows. “Yeah, except
    for top of the hour. Congrats
    on the license. I probably
    won’t get mine until I’m old
    enough to drink legally. Anyway,
    I gotta run. Drive carefully. We
    don’t need another statistic,
    as my dear old dad would say.”
    No worries. I don’t plan
    on being a statistic, unless
    it’s a good one. Hey, want
    a ride to school tomorrow?
    I hardly ever take rides from
    friends, and I start to say no,
    but she looks so hopeful,
    I just can’t. “Why not?”
    We agree on a time and away
    she goes, and as I pedal up
    the driveway, it occurs to me
    that Brittany (plus Toyota)
    just might come in handy,
    especially when winter
    hits for real. Long as her car
    has a heater, of course.

No Party Tonight
    At the old folks’ home,
    just more of the same ol’,
    except for one major thing.
    Greta has a visitor. Someone
    very special, from the past. I can
    tell he’s special by the sparkle
    behind her spectacles. I can
    tell he’s from her past because
    they’re speaking in Danish,
    something I’ve never heard
    her do before. I’m fascinated,
    and even though I can’t
    understand more than a word
    or two, I keep finding excuses
    to exit the dining room (where
    I’m supposed to be getting
    everything set up for dinner)
    in favor of the sitting room.
    Greta and her visitor have
    parked themselves in front
    of the fireplace, and their
    conversation seems every bit
    as cheerful as the song of wood,
    crackling behind them.
    As dinnertime nears, more and
    more people stir around them,
    but they are so caught up in
    each other, they barely notice.
    If I didn’t know better, I’d
    definitely guess this was love.

Looks Like Love
    And dear Greta        so deserves love,
it makes me happy     to see it glowing all
around her, glowing   inside her, filling her
up with this beautiful light. Such brilliant
light must come straight from heaven,
if such a place really exists. She
believes it does, so for her,
it’s real, and may be
that’s enough
to make
it so.
    Real
or no, this
gentleman caller
dropped in from out
of the blue, so I’ll just go
ahead and make believe he was
divinely inspired to bring a healthy
dose of light into Greta’s life. Her smile
is