101 “We need to talk over here,” she instructed. I followed her for a few paces toward the alcove of the doorway to the older kids’ hallway and leaned against the metal loop we were supposed to use to clean the snow off our boots in the winter. “Yeah?” Each word of Haley’s was staccato when she asked, “What do you think of Courtney?” I didn’t. Courtney’s sister was friends with my sister. I once had a dream where her sister came to my house and ran through the sprinkler in a snowstorm. I asked Haley, “Why?” She jolted her head back and asked, “Do you like her or don’t you?” I told her I didn’t know. Haley said, “Okay,” then looked around. My friends had gone back to playing tetherball. Once she thought we were alone, Haley kissed me on the lips. Only it was more like she kissed my teeth, because my mouth was open. The warmth on my neck spread down my whole back and I thought I was going to throw up, in a good way. “Don’t tell Courtney you like me instead,” she said. “She’s my friend.” I stood in the alcove and Haley walked across the basketball courts. I sat down in the middle of the foursquare paint and rubbed the back of my neck, trying not to cry. On the swing, Libby Truman rocked back and forth, staring at me. I don’t know why, but I yelled, “What are you looking at, Libby?” She skidded her heels into the wood chips and kept staring. “You’re always looking at me with that wonky eye and I’m sick of it. What do you want, Libby? Huh? What do you want?” Tears swelled in her eyes, magnified by the lenses of her glasses. “Ah, crap. I’m sorry, Libby.” I held out my arms towards her, then relocated to the side of my head. Then my body hit the wood chips. Ms. Gay stuck the otoscope in my ear and I shivered from the cold metal. Because Ms. Gay had been our nurse since kindergarten,
J o sh u a Bo h nsa ck
I remember a pop in my ear. The heat I felt running down my back