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“Eff the show,” Skye says without hesitation.
…
Instead of the pre-show warm-up, Jude and Miki try to catch up on some sleep, while Skye stays awake with me. And holds me, literally holds both of my arms, as I read Eden’s poems online.
It’s time.
It’s been time these past four years.
Now I’m out of time.
I start from her famous, award-winning poem, the one that got her hired on my team. The one that Teddy said made him want to be alive or something like that. That one.
“Are you sure?” Skye asks me.
“Have you read it?”
He nods, tight-lipped. Heat flushes my face. Even Skye has read it, and he does not read, period. He would rather chew his own foot than read (and that is a direct quote).
“I haven’t,” I say tightly.
“I know,” Skye replies.
“How?”
He just shrugs. “It changes you,” he says. “The minute you read it, everyone around you knows. It’s like my eyes were opened and everything.” I just stare at him. He’s dead serious. “I mean it,” he adds, as if he can tell I’m having a hard time believing him. “My mom knew, like, the second I read it.”
“Your mom?”
I didn’t even know he was this close to his mom. He’s always giving me a hard time for calling and texting mine every single night. But now he just nods.
“Yeah,” he says. “I was crying and everything. I called her the minute I finished my third read-through.”
“You were crying?” The words come out as a squeal. “Your third read-through?Third?”
He keeps nodding.
That’s it. I’m reading it. Right now.
So you don’t want to stay
by Eden Elliot
This is not some teacher talking to you
This is not a therapist or a parent
This is not some random person climbing off his high horse
To talk to you as if you are a problem to be solved.
This is me.
This is me.
What does it mean to be me?
I’ll tell you what it means.
