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    I Heart You, You Haunt Me

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      thinking of how

      Jackson and I

      used to

      sit and swing

      together.

      The stars are duller

      than an old pocketknife.

      They used to sparkle

      like five-carat diamonds.

      I wonder,

      is heaven

      up in the stars?

      Beyond the stars?

      Can Jackson see them

      like I see them?

      Is he wishing

      like I’m wishing?

      “Star light, star bright,” he said the first time

      we sat here together.

      “Make my wish come true tonight,” I said.

      “That’s not how it goes.”

      “Why drag it out?” I asked.

      He laughed. “So, what’s your wish?”

      “That time would stop,

      so we could stay like this forever.”

      “Tough wish,” he said.

      “What about you?” I asked.

      “Let’s see.

      I’m hungry.

      How about a cheeseburger?”

      “How romantic,” I told him.

      “Change your wish to a chocolate shake and we’re set.”

      We went to In-N-Out Burger after that.

      He got his wish.

      I didn’t get mine.

      I Need Mr. Sandman

      Sleep doesn’t come.

      Night after night

      I thrash around

      like a fish

      caught in a net

      trying to escape.

      And I cry

      for what I’ve done

      and who I’ve lost.

      Four days after the funeral,

      Mom shows me the phone messages

      she’s taken for me.

      I didn’t want to talk

      to anyone.

      Jackson’s brother, Daniel, called.

      Jessa and Zoe called.

      Nick called,

      again.

      I ball them up

      and throw them away.

      “You’re tired,” Mom says.

      She calls the doctor.

      He prescribes Ambien.

      “That’s good,” Mom says.

      “Sleep will help.”

      Will anything really help?

      When I wake up,

      I remember.

      It hurts

      to remember.

      Mom brings me a sandwich

      and some juice.

      I get up to pee

      and sneak another pill.

      “I need to sleep a little more,” I tell Mom.

      She doesn’t argue.

      Because sleep helps.

      Company’s Coming

      The phone rings.

      It rings and rings.

      I finally drag

      my butt out of bed

      and answer it.

      “Ava?”

      “Yeah.”

      “Do you want to do something?” Cali asks.

      “Maybe go to the pool?”

      “Not really.”

      “Wanna do something else?”

      “Not really.”

      “Are you okay?”

      “Not really.”

      “Can I come over?”

      “I guess.”

      “You need anything?”

      But before I can answer, she says, “Never mind.

      Stupid question.”

      Stupid.

      But sweet.

      Mirror, Mirror

      I’m putting on makeup.

      I’ll be like a clown

      and no one will see

      the real face

      behind the mask.

      I don’t want Cali to see

      the sad me,

      the depressed me,

      the shamed me.

      As I stand in the bathroom,

      carefully lining my eyelids

      bronze,

      I feel a splash

      of cool air.

      I shiver.

      I feel something.

      Something behind me.

      Something familiar.

      Hauntingly familiar.

      I glance behind me,

      but I don’t see

      anything.

      Or anyone.

      And then,

      when I look in the mirror

      again,

      I see,

      for a split second,

      not just me,

      but someone else.

      Jackson.

      Food for Thought

      Cali’s knocking,

      so I turn and run.

      As I run down the stairs,

      I’m thinking there must be such a thing

      as too much sleep.

      That wasn’t really him.

      It couldn’t have been him.

      Could it?

      When I open the door,

      she gives me her

      best girlfriend hug

      and I realize

      how much I have missed

      my Cali.

      We go to the kitchen,

      plop down at the table.

      “Thanks for coming,” I say.

      She looks at her watch.

      “You hungry?”

      “I could eat.”

      I get up

      and open the pantry door.

      I don’t even know

      if it’s time for breakfast

      or lunch

      or dinner.

      “What time is it?” I ask.

      “11:00.”

      I stand there, staring at the boxes

      of crackers

      and cereal,

      trying to focus

      on food

      and not

      on what I just saw

      in the mirror.

      The cool air

      surrounds me again.

      I get goose bumps.

      I feel him, standing there,

      next to me,

      like he’s hungry too,

      looking for something to eat.

      “Did you feel that?” I ask.

      “What?” she says.

      “Nothing.”

      She’ll think I’m crazy.

      Maybe she’d be right.

      And then,

      there’s the slightest hint of

      something brushing

      my cheek.

      Not a touch,

      less than a touch.

      A whisper.

      No, a feeling.

      Just a feeling.

      Or maybe,

      just my imagination.

      I shiver again.

      Am I going crazy?

      “I think you need to get out,” Cali says.

      “Let’s go to the mall.

      For some yummy food court food,

      and a little shopping, if you want.”

      I shrug. “I guess.”

      This is good.

      I’m a normal girl

      going to the mall.

      Not crazy.

      Not a girl

      who’s beginning to think

      she’s being haunted

      by her dead

      boyfriend.

      Okay or Not Okay?

      Cali has a green VW bug.

      Cute.

      Fun.

      Perfect.

      Like Cali.

      I was going to work

      so I could buy a car

      when I turn sixteen

      on August 15th.

      Oh well.

      All the things that

      used to be so important

      aren’t important

      anymore.

      “We haven’t been to the mall together in a long time,” Cali says.

      “Yeah.

      The last time I was there, Jackson bought me-”

      I stop.

      I look out the window.

      There’s an old man

      with an old woman,

      sitting on a bench,

      waiting for the bus.

      He’s looking at a newspaper.
    />
      She’s looking at him.

      She says something.

      He looks at her.

      He smiles.

      She smiles.

      The scene is so simple,

      so lovely,

      so perfect.

      “It’s okay to talk about him,” Cali says.

      “I know.”

      “What did he buy you?”

      I don’t want to say.

      But she asked.

      “That black-and-pink bikini.

      To wear to the School’s Out party.”

      She nods.

      She remembers.

      If she had known

      it would bring up

      that tragic day,

      she wouldn’t have asked.

      She shakes her head.

      Turns the radio up.

      I guess sometimes

      it’s not okay

      to talk about

      him.

      Cali

      As she fiddles with the radio,

      Cali’s blue-and-purple bracelet

      twists and slides

      on her arm.

      The summer

      between fifth and sixth grades,

      we rode our bikes

      to the pool

      almost every day.

      Then we came home

      and made necklaces and bracelets

      out of beads.

      We loved

      sitting

      and talking

      and making

      beautiful jewelry

      together.

      We sold our creations

      to kids in the neighborhood.

      My dad called us little entrepreneurs.

      I called us best friends.

      “You still wear the bracelet I made for you,” I say,

      thinking how it’s so amazing

      she’s kept it

      all this time.

      “I love it.

      Where’s the one I made for you?”

      “I lost it.”

      “I’ll make you another one,” she says.

      “We can buy some beads at the mall.”

      That’s Cali.

      The one who will do

      anything for me.

      Thank God for Cali.

      Wondering

      I shop,

      but I don’t buy.

      I eat,

      but I don’t taste.

      Cali talks,

      but I don’t listen.

      My mind’s drifting,

      thinking about him.

      Wondering if I’ll feel that cool air,

      feel that brush against my cheek,

      feel Jackson again,

      when I go home.

      It couldn’t have been him.

      I’m being ridiculous.

      Still,

      it’s not long before

      I want to go home

      and find out

      for sure.

      The Way My Life Changed

      I lean my head back

      on the car seat

      as we drive home.

      With my eyes closed,

      I search for a memory

      that will make me

      smile.

      And then,

      I remember the night

      my life changed

      forever.

      The silver bleachers

      filled with kids

      in black and red,

      cheering the football team

      to victory.

      It was a warm September night.

      The best kind of Friday night.

      My favorite kind of high school night.

      He was two rows up.

      Behind me.

      Watching me.

      Or so he told me later.

      Cali, Jessa, and Zoe

      went to get us food.

      I stayed

      to save our seats.

      And that’s when

      he made his move.

      “Hi.”

      “Hi.”

      “I’m Jackson.”

      “I know.

      Everyone knows who you are.”

      His cheeks turned

      the color of watermelon.

      His eyes greener

      than the rind.

      He was so cute,

      from the top of his sexy bald head

      to the tips of his PacSun shoes.

      The way he looked at me

      made me quiver

      and quake.

      It was a good thing

      I was sitting down.

      My legs wouldn’t have

      held me up.

      Who Are You?

      “Do you know who I am?” I asked.

      “No. But I’d like to.”

      “Ava Bender.”

      “Ava,”

      he said.

      “I like that name.

      Ava.”

      I loved the way

      he said my name.

      He talked about the game,

      and about his old school.

      He talked about how moving sucked,

      and about being the new kid,

      which sucked even more.

      I talked about living in the same house

      my whole life

      with a mom who works a lot

      and a dad who travels a lot.

      “Tell me something about Ava no one else knows,” he said.

      “No one?”

      I had to think hard

      on that one.

      “I really hate being alone,” I finally said.

      “Then it’s a good thing I’m here.”

      That made me smile.

      “Now it’s your turn,” I told him.

      “I want to go out with you.”

      That made me smile

      even more.

      I couldn’t say anything

      because my friends came back.

      Jackson didn’t move.

      They squeezed in

      on the other side of me.

      I introduced them.

      They looked at me

      like I’d just won

      the lottery.

      But it was way better

      than that.

      The Other Side

      The green bug

      backs away.

      I wave

      and smile

      like everything’s fine,

      while inside

      I’m freaking out

      because I don’t know

      if he’s waiting for me

      on the other side

      of that door.

      Awake

      I move from one room

      to the next.

      Downstairs.

      Upstairs.

      I whisper his name.

      “Jackson?

      How do I find you?”

      I go to the bathroom

      and stare into the mirror.

      I look more awake

      than I’ve been

      in weeks.

      Like a kid

      who wakes up really early

      on Christmas day

      and can’t wait

      to see what’s under

      the tree.

      I stand in front of the mirror

      for minutes.

      Maybe hours.

      “Ava, I’m home,” Mom calls from downstairs.

      “Are you awake?”

      Suddenly,

      the air temperature drops,

      and this time

      there’s no confusion.

      Jackson’s face

      flashes

      next to mine.

      I’d say

      awake

      is an

      understatement.

      Home Is Where the Heart Is

      Mom makes spaghetti.

      She makes it

      because I love it.

      And because she’s happy

      I’m awake.

      “Feeling better?” she asks.

      “Yeah.

      Cali took me to the mall.”

      “Good.

      I was starting to worry.
    ”

      “Mom, it’s Thursday, right?”

      “Yes.”

      “Dad comes home tomorrow?”

      “Yes,” she says. “Should we go to the beach this weekend?”

      No.

      NO!

      I don’t want to go anywhere.

      If Jackson’s here,

      I have to stay here.

      “Can we just stay home?

      Watch some movies?”

      She smiles.

      “That sounds nice.”

      “Thanks for the spaghetti.

      It was good.”

      “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

      It’s nick Again

      Nick calls Thursday night,

      to express

      his concern for me

      one more time.

      I tell him I’m okay,

      and there’s nothing he can do

      because I just buried my boyfriend

      and of course I’m really not

      that

      okay.

      “I just want you to know I’m here for you, Ava.

      If you need me.”

      It’s weird.

      Does he want a second chance?

      Does he want to be the rebound guy?

      Or maybe

      he is loving

      every minute

      of my grief

      and unhappiness.

      Maybe he’s thinking

      I had it coming.

      And maybe,

      just maybe,

      I did.

      What Did It Mean?

      Dare:

      a challenge

      to do something dangerous

      or foolhardy.

      I dare you.

      Three

      stupid

      words.

      I dared him to order octopus at a restaurant and to eat it all.

      He dared me to write a love letter, sign it Secret Admirer, and

      sneak it to a teacher.

      I dared him to pretend he was blind in the crystal section of

      the department store.

      This game,

      or whatever it was,

      became our little

      thing.

      Jackson,

      the rock climber,

      the white-water rafter,

      the extreme skier guy,

      loved the feel of adrenaline

      ROARING

      through his veins.

      For me,

      it was scary,

      and exhilarating,

      all at the same time.

      But I could have lived

      without it.

      All I needed

      was Jackson.

      I wish all he’d needed

      was me.

      A Strange Sensation

      I can hear my heart

      beat

      beat

      beating

      in the darkness

      as I try

      to go to sleep.

      The clock says 12:08.

      Mom is asleep by now.

      I get up

      and go down the stairs

      to make hot cocoa.

      Will he be there,

      waiting for me?

      My heart is

      beat

      beat

      beating

      faster,

      even though

      there’s no sign of him.

     

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