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she gave me, through genetics.
We are Scandinavian willows,
with vanilla hair and glacier blue
eyes and bone china skin. Two
hours in the sun turns me the color
of ripe watermelon. When I lead
cheers at football games, it is wearing
SPF 60 sunblock. Gross. Basketball
season is better, but I’ll be glad
when it’s over. Between dance lessons
and vocal training and helping out
at the food bank (all grooming for Miss
Teen Nevada), I barely have time for
homework, let alone fun. At least
staying busy mostly keeps my mind
off Conner. I wish I could forget
about him, but that’s not possible.
I tumbled hard for that guy. Gave him
all of me. I thought we had something
special. He even let me see the scared
little boy inside him, the one not many
other people ever catch a glimpse of.
I wonder if he showed that boy to
the ambulance drivers who took him to
the hospital, or to the doctors and nurses
who dug the bullet out of his chest. Sewed
him up. Saved his life. I want to see him, but
Cara says he can’t have visitors. Bet he doesn’t
want them—scared he might look helpless.
Sean Terrence O’Connell
