Means something.
Before we leave, Clair,
Watching me over his shoulder,
Kisses him on the side of his mouth.
I am speechless:
I am so jealous I want to hurt William.
Even though he didn’t do the kissing
I want to pinch him. Or worse.
I hug myself so I will not harm him
And so I do not have to hold his hand
As we walk back
Across the playground.
Then he says, ‘So, are we meeting tomorrow?’
And I forgive him for the kiss.
Because even if Clair wants him,
I think
He wants
Me.
Oh, to be Musical
I wish I knew how to play a complicated musical instrument,
Like a clarinet maybe,
Or a flute,
So I’d have practice using my mouth
And fingers,
And taking long breaths,
All at once
To create something
Sweet.
I have never kissed a boy,
And even though
I’ve seen it done
Day after day
On television
And in films,
So it shouldn’t be too difficult,
Because the movements are natural
And smooth,
I am not a naturally smooth person,
So how will I know what to do
When –
If he leans in with his head slightly tilted?
Should I tilt too?
And my mouth.
Should I open my mouth?
And my tongue.
Oh.
It is too much to think about.
It will be like playing a clarinet with no lessons;
It will take me years to learn this –
How to kiss.
Floating
William is at the swimming pool.
He is standing far away from me
In the shallow end,
Ripples sloshing his sides.
And he is watching me
As I cast aside my green towel
And pour myself into the
Safety of the water.
We swim to the middle
To meet each other,
Then lie on our backs
The water supporting our weight.
Sometimes our wrinkled toes touch
Accidentally.
Sometimes on purpose.
And for a moment I think it might be
The happiest I’ve ever been
Until Clair surfaces from the deep end,
Like a serpent from a swamp,
And wipes away my smile
By smirking herself.
Rumours
Clair sent a text message to Marie,
And now Marie is
forwarding it
to everyone else in Year Eight.
Except me,
Because I don’t
Have a phone.
Arlene shows me the message:
Guess what Cassie woz
doin with Will at the
swimming pool?!
SLAG!!!
Now I’m scared to talk to William,
Or even look at him,
In case they think
It’s true.
When I go into the cloakroom,
All the girls from my class
Stop talking and
Stand with their
Arms folded,
Glaring.
Clair is there,
Of course.
In the middle.
And she is simply smiling.
‘Why won’t you talk to me?’
William asks at lunch.
He is frowning
At the floor.
I can’t answer.
I am ashamed
Of the rumours;
I want them to stop.
I want them to stop
More than I want him
To kiss me.
When Boys Fight
A drove of spectators circles them
Baying for bruises and blood
And chanting
Like football fans
Or football hooligans –
Fight. Fight. Fight.
And no one stops this easy entertainment –
They just sell more tickets.
When two boys fight they are like
Warring walruses:
They plough into each other
Thumping and cracking,
Faces tight, fists curled,
And they do not stop
Until there is a winner,
Until there is no more need to fight.
Sometimes it cannot end this way.
If a teacher shows up it ends when they are
Forced
apart
And taken, in all their bloody glory,
To the headteacher
Where they are spoken to
About fighting,
About using their fists
To settle squabbles.
And either way, it seems a better fix
Than whispers and giggles.
So maybe what I should do is
Hit Clair –
Knock her down
And we could brawl in the playground too,
With everyone watching.
Then people would know
I’d been in a battle.
Late Nights
There is a flu epidemic –
Old people are sick with feverish coughing,
So Mama works late; she helps nurses
Change beds, mop vomit,
Deliver meals around the wards.
For a few glorious days
We don’t search the streets,
And I am grateful.
Mama asks Kanoro to watch me.
We sit on the floor in his room
Eating meat rolled in flat bread,
Guzzling tall glasses of cold milk.
Kanoro remembers stories
Of elephants and tribal chiefs.
They are myths and histories
Meant to entertain,
They are not his own truths,
not for me.
Yet I tell him about William.
I tell him all about William and the
Tumblings in my tummy,
And he nods with a knowing
That makes me blush.
And then I speak about Tata,
Destroy the sugary fiction
Mama has tried to turn into truth.
I tell him,
‘In Poland there is a saying:
Running away makes you guilty.
I am afraid of what we will find,
Kanoro, if we ever find Tata.’
And he says,
‘I told Ola, I told your mother,
Do not follow a person
Who is running away,
But she will not listen.
She does not understand.
She loves your Tata,
I think.’
Kanoro shakes his head
And offers me more peppery lamb
Which I take and eat,
Chewing on the gristle
And swallowing it.
Life Saver
We are in an empty swimming pool.
The water is warm and for some reason
There is sun on my face.
I am in the deep end wearing arm bands
To stop me going under.
William is there too.
But he isn’t in the pool.
He’s in the lifeguard’s chair
Watching as I struggle to stay afloat.
Finally he jumps into the pool
Straight from the chair.
I’m kicking, sinking, but
He drags me to the side,
Up on to the pool’s edge
&nb
sp; And gives me mouth to mouth.
His lips and mine are wet
As they press together and
His breath fills me up.
I don’t need resuscitation
But he has his hands on my chest
Between my breasts,
And he’s pushing and pushing
Trying to jump-start my heart.
When I awake I am gasping.
Then I roll over and see Mama watching.
She’s bleary-eyed and half asleep
But even so, I do not want to
Have dreams like this
Lying next to my mother.
Higher
We are in the park
On the swings
But I don’t feel like a little kid
Because we are not swinging,
Just swaying.
William takes out his cigarettes
And offers me one.
This time I shake my head – no –
And he doesn’t care.
He puts the cigarettes back into the recess
Of his blazer
And sways –
Not forward and back
But side to side
On the swing
So as he comes close
I can smell him,
I can smell his chewing gum.
Then he gets off his swing and starts to push me
So I am swinging
Higher and
Higher.
And I am laughing because,
Actually,
I do feel like a little kid
After all.
And I like it.
Dear William
I don’t want you to write a poem for me
But it would be nice if you did.
And if you bought a rose for me
It would be OK too
But I don’t want you to buy flowers
Necessarily.
I don’t want you to carry my book bag
But if you feel like doing that
Spontaneously
I wouldn’t stop you.
I wouldn’t stop you being romantic
If that’s what you wanted.
First Kiss
Oh God.
Oh God.
It is so embarrassing
When he tries to kiss me
And our faces collide like cars
In a traffic accident.
As he leans in
I open my mouth
Too
Wide
Like a yawn
And his pursed lips disappear into
The hollow of my mouth
So I feel like I am swallowing
Him.
He pulls away.
He looks at me like he
Is trying to figure out an algebra problem.
I am too difficult for him.
When he turns away,
Because he is embarrassed too,
I still have my mouth open
Yawn
Wide
But now it’s because I am in shock
From the accident
And I can’t close it.
Assembly
Why would Clair
Steal a pair of scissors from the art room
And then,
Sitting behind me in assembly,
Listening to the Head of Year
Make announcements,
Cut chunks from my hair?
I was trying to grow it.
I was trying to get it right.
Her stunt makes the others girls
Tee-hee-hee.
At least she got some tee-hee
Titters from it.
Later Clair apologises,
Hands back my hair and,
With big eyes and a sticky pout says,
‘Don’t be like that, Cassie,
Was just a joke. Innit?’
What kind of joke is this?
Maybe it’s an English joke
I can’t yet understand.
But I suspect I understand
Perfectly.
No Offence, But . . .
I shouldn’t take things the wrong way
Because they are ‘just joking’
And they mean ‘no offence’
And they laugh – ha ha ha –
Because ‘not really’
Makes everything they do
Mean nothing
At all.
Wrath
I will find a way
To take revenge
On Clair,
For the hair –
And on her whispering friends too.
I will find a way
To watch with glee
As Clair
Feels despair
Along with her
Cheerleaders.
I can be angry.
Not always
Good Kasienka,
As Mama thinks.
Teachers
Why can’t they see what’s happening?
Why don’t they notice the looks,
The smirks, the eye-rolling?
And why don’t they ask if I’m OK?
I’ll tell them I’m not.
I’m not a liar.
Or a slag.
Why do they always ask Clair
to pass out the books
And Marie to read her homework aloud?
They see what they want
Because if they didn’t it would be a lot of work,
And they don’t have time for this;
They have to mark, and teach, and stop the
Boys from killing one another
With their teeth and fists.
This is more important than spotting snickers.
But why can’t they just ask if I’m OK?
Misread
I don’t want to be secretive.
Mama and I share a bed.
Every night it’s her and me together.
There are just some things
I can’t say.
Mama isn’t a good listener.
Sometimes, when I speak,
And think I’ve said something,
Mama hears something else
Completely.
And the reaction is unexpected.
Like last week – I asked for money
To buy a tube of mascara.
She raised an eyebrow
And tapped her tummy.
I didn’t understand.
‘Vulgar girls – always having babies –
Don’t be one of those, Kasienka.
Be a good girl.’
Now someone tell me –
How can mascara make me pregnant?
So when I come home with fresh-chopped hair
I don’t tell her it was Clair in assembly
Sitting behind me with blunt scissors.
I tell her the teacher did it.
I tell her I got gum in it.
Because Mama won’t understand –
And she will find a way to blame me.
The story makes Mama laugh:
‘I told you that habit was disgusting.
But you never listen to Mama!’
Talking
Kanoro listens without saying,
Just ignore it (which I can’t),
Or, They’re jealous (which isn’t true).
Instead he nods and says:
‘There is no hyena without a friend.’
And then: ‘What will you do?’
I like this question. He believes
I can do
Something.
So I tell him about my empty plan
To get revenge
On the hyena.
Kanoro looks sad and says:
‘Happiness should be your revenge, Kasienka.
Happiness.’
And though he is right,
It makes me feel worse
Because I do not know
How to be happy.
Part 2
Gummy B
ears
When he tries to kiss me
I do not open my mouth at all
And neither does he.
We kiss,
Dry lips on dry lips,
And it is nice.
But it is not enough
And I feel my mouth open
And his too.
And something that is not my mouth
Is inside my mouth.
And it is easy:
Kissing William is like
having a Haribo
In my mouth.
It is easy.
Kissing William
is just like sucking on a gummy bear.
Partners
William corrects my English.
Gently.
And smiles when I mispronounce things
Because he thinks the mistakes are cute.
And for the first time
Ever
I can be wrong
And it’s OK.
Better than that –
It’s cute.
And he thinks I’m clever too,
And asks for help with his
Simultaneous equations.
And when he gets something muddled
I smile
Because it’s cute.