so flat and mumbled,
he may as well
be reading
the obituaries!
The first-place freshman,
Trey Neptune,
is back here
with me.
Neptune is usually
a Penobscot tribal name
and he looks it:
He’s got thick, dark hair
and dark eyes.
High cheekbones
and a broad nose.
He’s tall and lanky
and loose-limbed.
His face
is kind and open.
Suddenly,
I am very
self-aware.
I am wearing
a dress.
It’s not even
plaid.
It’s long-sleeved,
and I left
the bandages on
underneath
(just in case).
Mr. Mumbly
from Bangor
finishes up.
MY READING
Next up is me!
And I read!
About all the animals,
and where will
they go?
We keep taking
their land
and when (if!)
we give it back,
it’s been spoiled.
Closed factories
and brownfields,
leaking pipelines,
and forests cut clear…
I am careful
not to read too fast,
to make it last
so they all get
the whole impact.
And as I’m leaving the stage,
I see Dad!
In the way-way back.
When I come off the stage,
Trey gives me
a big smile.
“That was great!”
And I feel myself blush.
TREY’S READING
Even though
he’s been
really nice,
I’m still
kind of mad
that I lost to him.
Trey calls himself
a slam poet.
It sounds to me
like a hip-hop artist
with no music,
only the rhythm
of his poetry.
The rhythm
of himself.
It’s called
For Immediate
Release
(Native Boy
Makes Good)
From the first line,
it’s so ironic
and brave
that I’m instantly
no longer mad
about losing.
I’M SO IMPRESSED
that I wait
backstage
to tell him.
“I loved the words.
And the performance!
And the irony!
It was funny!
But also serious in, like,
the best way!”
He smiles at me.
“You have great
stage presence!
Are you going to
Maine Theater Camp?”
“What’s that?
I’m not a good actor…”
“You can be
a playwright!
Maine Theater Camp.
It’s a day camp.
Over summer.
I’ll be there.
Look it up online.”
SUMMERTHEATERCAMP
A camp for Theater Dorks.
For kids who don’t Sport.
Or actually camp
and hike or whatever.
Who do mind the weather.
Who aren’t brainiacs either,
don’t score well
at STEM.
(We think stars are pretty
but don’t need to name them.)
For kids who CAN
write plays, build sets,
do tech, and perform.
Who all secretly plan
to take the world by storm.
Well, some
of that’s me.
Is all
of that Trey?
Or is he
just like me,
looking for any
excuse to play
with words
and be on a stage?
EITHER WAY
I ask
Mrs. Goode.
Mrs. Goode
is thrilled
about it!
“I’m recommending you
to this camp.”
Recommending?
“I’m telling this camp
that you have talent
and deserve
to be there.”
Well, hey!
I’ve never been told
I deserve anything
before.
At least not anything
good!
Ha!
DEARMOSTNORTHEAST
is not
how Sophie
responds.
But she does
respond.
She says,
“A couple viewers
have asked me
how to tell their parents
about their cutting.
I would say…
…not to.
Do you think
they’ll understand?
Really?!
I have a friend
who came out
to her parents
about her cutting.
They threw her
out of the house.
I know someone else
who went
to her parents
for help.
They locked her
in the psych ward.
Do you want
to be living
on the streets?
Do you want
to be locked up
in some loony bin?
No, you don’t.
You want
to be free
and still have
a roof
over your head.
Keep your cuts and scars
hidden.
Cut in places
that can’t be seen.
I cover this
in other
videos.
Take care
of your
cuts and scars.
Clean them,
dress them,
use cocoa butter
on them.
I cover this
in other
videos, too.
Unless
you truly feel
like you want
to die,
like you actually want
to kill yourself?
I don’t
recommend
telling your parents.
I just…
don’t see it
ending
well.”
IDON’TKNOW
about
this
advice.
I do know
it’s
not what
I expected,
but it’s
peaceful now
at home.
And I’m
healing.
And I
don’t plan
to cut again,
especially after
what happened
last time.
I decide to
(at least for now)
take
this
advice.
LIVFINDSOUT
about
Theater Camp,
and not from me.
She’s mad about it!
“I can’t
believe you!
You know
this is
my thing
and you
were g
oing
to go do
my thing
without me?”
“I thought
Cooper
was
your thing.”
Her face
squinches up.
“What’s that
supposed
to mean?”
I catch myself
before I say
something nasty.
“It’s six weeks,
all day.
That’s half
the summer
away
from Cooper.
I didn’t think
you’d want to.”
She pouts.
“You should
have asked me.
But I got
my application in.
Very last day,
but everyone
I talked to
says I have
a really
good chance.”
And once again,
I want
to be happy
about this.
I really do.
But I’m really
not.
DAD COMES BACK
It’s nice
to have Dad back.
Except it’s not,
because
they are both
acting like
the other
is a scared
animal
or
a cranky
old person.
Walking
on
eggshells,
Gramma Wright
calls it.
It feels
to me
like
walking
on
broken glass.
LATE MARCH
(TINY SAW)
They are
not fighting
(Mom and Dad).
They are trying
so hard
to not get mad.
We are
not fighting
(Liv and me).
We are trying
so hard
to be friendly.
All this
not fighting,
all this
trying,
is so trying!
It’s like walking
through a field
knowing
there are landmines.
At least
with the saw,
I control
when they go off.
The saw
won’t cut too deep.
It brings fast heat.
The cuts raise
and burn
over the next
few days.
Every time
I feel my clothes
rake over them,
I get the same rush
I am going
of being able
to help you
to be kind
heal and feel
to myself.
better.
APRIL
brings
cold rain,
but also
spring break.
Liv wants to hang!
We go
to the lot.
This is the first time
she’s come with me
since I set
the first trail cam.
Dad gave me
another.
Liv and I hang it
in the cold rain.
Then we go back
to her house,
have hot chocolate,
watch movies,
eat popcorn,
make microwave s’mores.
And for a few days,
it’s like
it used to be.
Until…
COOPER
has been
away.
He hasn’t been
in touch.
That’s the reason
Liv wants to hang.
We finally
kind of
get into a fight.
She yells at me.
“You just
don’t like him!
You’ve never
given him a chance.
You should try
going out with us.
You might even
have fun.”
She’s not wrong.
I don’t
like him
and I haven’t
given him (much of) a chance…
BUTHERE’STHETHING
He doesn’t
like me
either.
And I’ll bet
my trail cams
that she hasn’t
had this fight
with him.
I know she hasn’t
stood up
for me.
Because,
when it comes
to Cooper,
Liv doesn’t even
stand up
for herself.
TRESPASSING
I find the trail cams
smashed to bits
in a nearby ditch.
There are
“No Trespassing” signs
where the cameras were.
Dad tells me,
“These people
seem serious.
What you’re doing
is dangerous.
I want you
to stay well away
from that land.”
I think of my
fat raccoon
skunk family
flock of turkeys
missing opossum
and what
clear-cutting
that land
will do to them.
My heart
b r e a k s.
MAY
(TINY SAW)
N-O T-R
Lives
I can’t
save.
E-S-P-A
Things
I can’t
change.
-S-I-N-G
Feelings
I can’t
control.
NO TRESPASSING
These letters
find their way
into my arm.
A burning,
bleeding
eulogy
for the tiny plot
of land
I stupidly thought
would remain
mine.
The burn
and the ache
of my arm
isn’t enough
the burn
and the ache
in my heart.
Then I remember
Sophie’s words
and start on my legs.
MAPLESS, MAINE
is a huge success.
I’m proud of the set,
even if it’s simple.
It’s sturdy.
Good thing,
because six
different cast members
ran right into it
on opening night!
Even better,
it gave me ideas
for my own play.
Good thing,
because six
short weeks is all I’ve got
before I have to hand in the first draft
on opening day
of Theater Camp.
(I got accepted!)
LIV GOT IN, TOO
But when she calls me,
it’s not
to celebrate.
“Cooper isn’t
taking me
to the prom!”
“I hope
you broke up
with him then!”
“No,
he
broke up with
me!”
“What?”
“I got mad
and he said,
FINE,
let’s just
call it quits
right now.”
“Why isn’t he
taking you?”
“He said
it’s not ‘appropriate’
for him to take
a freshman
to the senior
prom.”
I agree
with Cooper,
actually,
but I keep this
to myself,
obvi.
We walk
to Tideway and get
ice cream,
whoopie pies,
chips,
donuts,
gummy bears.
Liv gets Moxie soda.
I get orange soda
because I am
a sane person
with working
taste buds.
It’s hard for me
to see
Liv so upset.
Especially because
I am secretly
happy.
BUTALSOGUILTY
Not just
about Liv.
Summer means
summer hours
for Dad.
He’s up at 3: 30
to meet the crew
at Dockside
for pancakes and eggs
before heading out
to pull and bait traps,
then clean the boat
on the way back.
It means dinner at 6: 00,
in bed by 7: 00,
to do it all over again.
It has been
this way
since I can
remember.
But this year,
Dad’s schedule
is testing
Mom’s temper.
She’s not breaking dishes
or even yelling,
but she talks
through her teeth a lot.
I can see
that it’s killing her.
I feel bad
thinking it,
but sometimes
I wish
he’d go away
and be gone.
Not for good,
not forever.
Just enough to
recover
some calm
and some peace
and some quiet.
PAIGE IS HOME!
She shows up
one night
when Liv and I
are working on
our stuff for camp.
Liv
has to
read a bunch
of techie stuff
and design
five stage sets.
I
have to
read five
10-minute plays
and write
one.
This may be
the only time
in history
we actually study
when we say
we are studying
together.
LAST DAY OF SCHOOL!
Liv’s mom
takes a half day
and brings us
for ice cream.
Paige
gives us each
a tiny, tiny serving
of champagne.
“To celebrate
not being
freshmen anymore!
You made it!
Congratulations!”