WORD WEB
I fall into bed,
Have Space Suit—Will Travel propped
up on my nightstand.
Read? Sleep? The story spools out
spider silk and captures me.
PREPARATION
Our first recital!
Dad proudly takes me shopping
for a brand new suit.
Just wait until he hears me
split the air with waves of song!
“You know, Son,” Dad says,
“I used to sing solo, too—
a long time ago.”
His words stir memory: an
old friend, whispers of a band …
SCALES
Each night, I run scales,
looking into my mirror,
making sure my mouth
matches the shapes teacher taught.
Who knew singing could be work?
THE CHANGE BELL
I do like Manny,
crank up the inside volume,
listen to my dreams
as I walk through the school halls.
I choose what words to let in.
INSULT
Leaving rehearsal,
word bombs explode behind me:
a girl yells “Dump Truck,”
trying to shatter my joy.
I almost let her. Almost.
GOOD COMPANY
I’m missing Joe, but
I escape a lonely lunch
’cause Manny joins me.
“There goes Garvey and the Ghost!”
some kids tease, but I like it.
We talk between bites.
Me: “Wish I could wake up thin.”
Manny: “My mom says,
‘Shine your light, no one will care
what size candle holds the flame.’
Take your man, Luther.
I’ve almost never heard folks
laugh about his weight.
I’ve just heard them praising him
for his smooth-as-velvet voice.”
I chew on his words,
wash them down with chocolate milk.
Maybe someday I’ll
lift my voice to the heavens
and have praise rain down on me.
FACING THE MIRROR
My waist a stranger
I haven’t seen in ages,
I grit my teeth, speak
the truth: My body’s chunky.
Who cares? It’s just the spaceship
the real me rides in.
Right? So I dress for the day,
give my cap a tilt,
and fire up the engines,
set to face a new morning.
ASSEMBLY
Single file, we march
on stage for our recital.
Louder than a zoo,
the kids watching point and laugh,
hyenas in human skin.
Teachers hiss and shush,
quieting the animals
until they become
an audience of students
squirming in their seats and bored.
Like water ripples,
our first notes spread harmony
from front row to back.
I see my classmates floating
in sound, and I stand taller.
Manny nudges me
when it’s time for my solo.
Legs like spaghetti,
I worry that I might faint.
Eyes closed, I wait for courage.
A whisper at first,
the music in me rises.
Live inside the song,
I tell myself. And I do.
Then comes the hush, and applause.
LET DOWN
During the applause,
I search for him in the crowd,
catch him with head bowed,
cringe, certain I’ve failed again
till I see Dad wipe his eyes.
THANKS FOR THE PUSH
Like hard candy, “thanks”
sticks in my throat, melts slowly.
Waiting for the words,
I jab Manny in the arm,
mimicking movie tough guys.
AFTERMATH
Sis bounces up, flings
an arm across my shoulder,
staking out her claim.
“This is my brother, Garvey,”
she says, leaving me speechless.
NEW FAN
Dad stands to the side
beaming pride like a nova,
lighting up my year.
Mom’s crushing hugs, expected.
The nod from Dad, like Christmas.
COMPLIMENTS
Joe comes—no surprise—
pats me on the back. “Garvey!
My man, you killed it!”
The stars ’round Mars have nothing
on me, tonight. I shine bright.
“Kid, you got some pipes.”
This from Too-skinny-for-words!
I watch his eyes turn
an envy green, a color
I have never seen him wear.
LESS THAN PERFECT
Grim shadows, problems
haunt us all—round, thin, short, tall.
Too-skinny-for-words
is unhappy to the core.
Never noticed that before.
INTRODUCTIONS
I end the evening
sandwiched between my best friends.
“I’ve been hearing about you,”
both begin in unison,
then we three drown in laughter.
TOO SOON GOOD-BYE
Luther died before
I knew his music, his name.
It’s the why of it
makes me want to punch a wall.
He shouldn’t have died at all.
News stories agree.
What did him in was his weight,
all that yo-yoing
up and down, losing, gaining.
His heart just couldn’t take it.
I did the right thing,
giving up crash dieting.
Maybe it’s better
to eat less, jog with Joe, go
slow so I can stick around.
ON THE MOVE
I show up at Joe’s,
sporting brand-new running shoes.
Once he stops laughing,
Joe joins me for my first jog.
One block and I am wheezing.
Soon, each morning finds
the two of us out jogging
twice around the block.
Sometimes, Joe asks, “Are you good?”
To answer, I run faster!
Sometimes when I run,
I feel Dad’s eyes follow me.
He won’t admit it,
but when I come in sweaty,
he always gives me a nod.
SPRING THAW
Peeled myself from bed
for the morning rush to school.
(Better beat the bell!)
Belted a blue-jean surprise:
loose waist by nearly one size!
Round still, but that’s fine.
Feeling good outside and in.
Maybe I’m not thin,
but skinny isn’t perfect.
The perfect size is happy.
COLORS
My shirt red as flame,
I stand before the mirror,
smiling at a boy
whose frame is familiar
but changed, unfinished—all me.
TURN AROUND
At lunch, Manny says,
“Looks like your dad came around.”
“Yes!” the word explodes
from my chest. “Think mine can, too,
if I do that TV show?”
This time, I chew on
hope for my good friend. “Manny,
you’re ready for this!
Win or lose, your dad will see
t
hat real men can be great chefs.”
NOW IT’S MY TURN
Next week, I shop for
encouragement: Cool Kids Cook:
Fresh & Fit, a book
a small gift to lift a friend.
FIRST CONTACT
A knock at my door.
It’s Dad, a CD in hand.
“Say, have you heard this
album? The title track is
Luther’s best—and my favorite.”
Dance with My Father!
Something warm rises in me.
I’d speak if I could.
Instead, I give Dad the smile
I’ve been saving forever.
THE TALK
“Son, I should tell you,
I used to sing in a band,”
Dad says in the voice
he saves for secrets. I smile,
and pretend that I’m surprised.
“Really? When?” I ask.
“Oh, it was a long while back …”
That’s how it began—
the longest conversation
I’ve ever had with my dad.
SUMMER DUET
Dad’s old band tunes up
at our house on Saturdays.
You should hear how his
bluesy bass rhythms rock my
high-tenor melodies—sweet!
TANKA
Tanka is an ancient poetry form, originally from Japan. The word tanka means “short poem” in Japanese. The basic tanka is five lines long. The line-by-line syllable count varies in the modern English version, but the number of lines is always the same.
The modern form of tanka I chose to use for Garvey’s Choice is broken down as follows:
Line 1: 5 syllables
Line 2: 7 syllables
Line 3: 5 syllables
Line 4: 7 syllables
Line 5: 7 syllables.
Not every American poet follows a syllable count for tanka poems, but I think of a syllable count like a puzzle. Each word is a puzzle piece, and I like figuring out which words fit best!
Traditional tanka poems focus on mood. They are often poems about love, the four seasons, the shortness of life, and nature. In my tanka, I include mood, but in each poem, my focus is more centered on telling a story.
I hope you enjoyed the stories I told!
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Throughout the journey of every book, there are book-angels to thank, those good souls who nudge the work along with encouragement, critique, cajoling, and infusions of decadent dark chocolate, as needed. Garvey’s Choice is no exception.
I have to thank Jane Yolen for hosting me for a writing retreat at her home, during which time I struggled through an early draft of this novel in the restful environment of her studio. Thank you for your hospitality, not to mention treating me to the Eric Carle and the Emily Dickinson museums! Jane, you are a kind and generous friend.
Thanks also to Han Nolan and her husband, Brian, who hosted me for a second writing retreat, during which time I nailed down the final major draft of this book. Han, your insightful critique helped to set me up for success! I’m grateful for your friendship.
Finally, thanks to my intrepid editor, Rebecca Davis. You’re always willing to duke it out with me, in the interest of producing the best book possible. I wouldn’t trade you for the world.
Here’s hoping this much-cared-for book finds its audience!
An Interview with Nikki Grimes
Q: Garvey loves astronomy, science fiction, chess, and music. But it’s through music that he gains confidence, and he muses that “chorus might be a way to fill in the puzzle of me.” When developing Garvey’s character, did you intentionally choose these four subjects because they’re interrelated somehow? Are these things you love as well?
A: I gave only a passing thought to the way astronomy and science fiction were related. I knew that Garvey was a reader, and it only made sense that his love of the stars would be reflected in his choice of books. Music was the key to connect Garvey and his dad, of course. As for chess, it provided a way for Garvey’s mother to highlight her son’s intellectual capacity and, in the process, counter some of the father’s negative messages about Garvey’s perceived lack of athletic skills.
And, yes, I have an appreciation for all four subjects myself, though not to an equal degree. My father was a violinist and composer, and so I come by my love of music naturally. I enjoy science fiction and have read the occasional sci-fi novel. I’m fascinated by the solar system, and I admire anyone who can play chess!
Q: Garvey and Manny both struggle because the things that they’re passionate about—singing and cooking—are not considered manly activities, at least by some significant adults in their lives. How important is it to pursue your dreams even if doing so will make you stand out for being different?
A: No matter what anyone says or thinks about your dreams, you must always pursue them. Usually, when you’re successful, the naysayers come around. But even if they don’t, you owe it to yourself to follow your heart and to make use of whatever gifts you were given. The talents God gave you are your gifts to the world.
Q: Manny and Garvey are often the objects of bullying in school, and Manny’s response to his albinism gives Garvey courage to defend himself. What would you tell kids who witness someone being bullied?
A: Stand up for kids who are being bullied. No one deserves to be bullied, but unless someone stands up for that person, the victim might start to believe that he or she does deserve it, and that would be a shame.
Q: Garvey loves food and is overweight partly because he uses it for comfort. Did you, from the beginning, plan for Manny to dream of being a chef in order to give Garvey different ways of thinking about food? Or did this unfold as you developed your characters?
A: So much of what happens in a novel is surprising and organic. I had no idea Manny would harbor dreams of being a chef. I wanted Manny to have a passion of his own, though, and I’m not surprised my mind went in this direction. I’m obsessed with cooking shows. In addition, I have a friend whose teen daughter, Eliana, is a rising star in the culinary world, so the notion of a young person dreaming of a career as a chef wasn’t much of a leap for me. That Manny’s passion allowed me to explore ways Garvey might wake up to the idea of healthy eating, and food as fuel rather than comfort, was a bonus.
Q: You chose to tell Garvey’s story in tanka poems. What made you want to write a whole novel using one poetic form? What do you like about tankas?
A: The novel actually grew out of a question I asked myself one day. I wondered if it was possible to write a novel entirely in tanka poems. The first draft of this book was my attempt to do so.
I always like to challenge myself, to push my boundaries as an artist and writer. There’s something about the inherent limits of a tightly structured form like tanka that draws me to it. I wanted to look for ways to bend it to my use, to force emotional truth within the limits of those five lines—a nearly impossible task, which is what made it irresistible to me. I simply had to give it a try.
NIKKI GRIMES is the recipient of the 2006 NCTE Award for Excellence in poetry for Children. Her books include the Coretta Scott King Author Honor Award–winning Words with Wings and the groundbreaking best seller Bronx Masquerade. Ms. Grimes began composing verse at the age of six and has been writing ever since. She lives in Corona, California.
nikkigrimes.com
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