Planet Middle School: Planet Middle School

While she waited
for my arrival,
she dreamed in pink,
imagined frilly dresses
and sweet tea parties.

"What about it, sport?
Did you make the team?”
“Probably,” I hedge,
wanting to watch
his excitement build.

“I’m trying on all these
strange contraptions,
and my mom's right outside
the dressing room,
dying for a peek!”

Hunger Pangs

Three hours later,
I’m still chasing sleep.

End of the day,
I lay my head
on my desk,
faking the migraine
I'm certain
is on its way.

Over dinner,
Mom and Dad
slip into their usual ritual
discussing the day
and Mom casually mentions
“Joy and I went
bra shopping.”

Another colossal cramp
shoots through me
and I’m thinking:
Boys have it easy.

Sometimes I feel
like slave labor
forced to run errands
whenever my mother gets a whim.

Next thing I know,
I’m slouching down
a supermarket aisle
like I got nothing better to do.

Her silver hoop earrings,
armload of bangles,
and painted fingernails
tell me she's
nothing to worry about—
some girly girl who probably
shouldn't even have made the team.

I join them,
trying not to stare
at the perfection
of Glory's hair,
a cascade of braids
framing her face.

...suddenly I’m imagining
my hand swallowed up in his
my head nuzzling his shoulder
my—
the ear-splitting dryer buzzer brings me back to reality and I make myself busy folding sheets.

I bite my tongue
to stifle my silliness,
but it doesn't help.
I'm already
too far gone.

Far as I’m concerned, the game is over.
I excuse myself
and limp off the court,
pretending a pulled hamstring.

I stand in front of
Mom's vanity
like most girls do at three,
splashing on perfume
and smearing blush
from cheek to ear.

Minutes later, I meet up with KeeLee
and we strut through the school hall,
me waiting for my chance
to impress Him.

Minutes later, I meet up with KeeLee
and we strut through the school hall,
me waiting for my chance
to impress Him.

Jake says it every time
he knocks into me on the court
or grazes my leg
or if our chests bump

Ball in hand,
I feint left,
feint right,
push forward,
work the poor girl
guarding me
into a lather,
then fly for the net
and swoosh!

Don’t know what makes parents
decide to reminisce,
but tonight Mom turns up
in my doorway in the mood.

“Then one day,” Mom drones on,
“I just didn’t feel like
scrambling up trees anymore,
and it was okay, you know?”

“Then one day,” Mom drones on,
“I just didn’t feel like
scrambling up trees anymore,
and it was okay, you know?”

KeeLee lets me sort through
her stash of nail polish colors.
One is called “Iridescent Black.”

I rub my sore ankle and wince.
“No running for me today,” I say.

I spot him on the way
back to class,
and saunter by slow enough
so he'll notice.

“Great half-court shot
last Saturday,'' Dad says to Glory.
She smiles and we all rehash the game.

“Man,” Jake whispers,
“that girl’s legs go on forever.
She seeing anybody?”
He's practically salivating.

Three days of moping
around the house,
and Mom is wondering why.

Vigil

Jake’s mom
leaves us in the room alone.

If I start bawling like some little girl,
Jake will never let me live it down.