Summer Before High School

Jimmy Eat World was always in my Discman. I wrote the lyrics on my arms. I wore my baby blue tee with wings on the back. The Princess Diaries trailers intrigued me. I loved the song that played. It was by Myra. It felt happy and hopeful and I liked this new Anne Hathaway chick. Fran promised not to see it until I was back from camp. I found the novel and read it hungrily in my cabin. My bunk was right next to Wizzy's. She would throw her towel into the rafters and swing on it to practice her pointe. I decorated a root beer bottle with magazine cut-outs. It was supposed to represent parts of me, and I would look at it when I was trying to fall asleep. The bold, "LET'S GO CRAZY" and the Britney Spears ad. My favorite shorts were light pink. I wore them the night I babysat for five kids. That night _____ had called my cell phone four times and hung up before finally staying on the line and asking if I wanted to see a movie. "Have you been calling and hanging up?" I asked. He responded too quickly No. But that fall in Honors Biology, by the microscopes, he told me the truth. He was already going out with ____ _______ by that time. I didn't know what to expect. I felt excited. The girls all swam at Peppermint's pool by day and watched American Pie 2 in her basement by night. We invited the boys, who would ride over on their bikes for Truth or Dare. Everyone liked everyone, but I was over the kids we knew. I was the worst student in the summer improv intensive. I never volunteered. I was too quiet to be heard. That one kid sat on my lap on the bus ride home from Second City. He said he'd get up when I had a conversation with him. I didn't. He did. No one spent any money. We were fridge-funded. I could never eat anyway because my braces hurt. I asked for red, white, and blue. There were so many graduation parties, but what did we even do at them? We were fourteen.

I don't need wings to help me fly.
Miracles happen once in a while when you believe.

Oh, Shut Up, It's a Guilty Pleasure

Chelle. Friday night.

He spends his nights in California
watching the stars on the big screen.
Then he lies awake and he wonders,
"Why can’t that be me?"
'Cause in his life he's filled
with all these good intentions.
He’s left a lot of things
he’d rather not mention right now,
but just before he says goodnight,
he looks up with a little smile at me,
and he says,

"If I could be like that,
I would give anything
just to live one day in those shoes.
If I could be like that,
what would I do?
What would I do?

She spends her days up in the north park,
watching the people as they pass,
and all she wants is just
a little piece of this dream--
is that too much to ask?
With a safe home, and a warm bed,
on a quiet little street?
All she wants is just that something to hold onto.
That’s all she needs.

If I could be like that,
I would give anything
just to live one day in those shoes.
If I could be like that, what would I do?
What would I do?


Sid. Friday night.