Freakboy by Kristin Elizabeth Clark Page B

worried
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â but she didn’t tell Pat on me.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Girl, did I feel guilty.)
    Funny thing was,
    when finally I did go with her?
    Church was a serious party!
    Singin’, swaying, witnessing
    to the loving power of God.
    Christ Church Unified.
    LGBTQ friendly.
    They welcomed me
    embraced me.
    Now that’s what I call Christian.

Sundays Like Today
    when there’s nothin’ goin’ on
    it feels good to go
    to church
    but I don’t feel
    like I have to
    or the Lord will get mad.
    I’m a pretty strong spirit myself.
    And me and God?
    We’re tight.
    We don’t need anyone
    to translate
    for either of us.
    God doesn’t make mistakes.
    I’m here for whatever reason He/She has.
    No need
    to apologize
    For who I am.
    For what I am.

(Vanessa)
    Today Was Just Another Crappy Day
    in a long line of
    other crappy days. I     d o n’ t
    know what’s wrong.
    Brendan left without
    saying goodbye.
    We were supposed
    to hang out after wrestling,
    but that was something
    he obviously didn’t     w a n t .
    When I left the gym I saw
    someone’d written “dyke” on my car.
    I acted like I didn’t care—and
    Brendan’s the only one
    I’d complain about it     t o .
    They say I play for both teams
    but there’s not a lot of play
    now anyway. We used to
    get busy after meets—
    endorphins would surge,
    win or     l o s e .
    Today he just left, and I wish
    to God he’d open up,
    tell me for real
    what’s wrong with     h i m .

In the Parking Lot
    I text him:
    Give me a call?
    By the time I get home
    there’s still no reply.
    Helloooeeee?
    Nothing.
    After dinner
    I call his cell,
    leave a message.
    â€œWe need to talk.”
    Nada.
    I’m mad
    and worried
    at the same time.
    There should
    be a name for this
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Morried? Wad?
    I dial again, hang up.
    Should I call the house?
    Anger and sadness
    compete inside me.
    It’s a tie.

(BRENDAN)
    On the Wall
    After my shower I
    go to put on pants
    and I end up in bed,
    eyes closed. Won’t look
    at the dresser     m i r r o r .
    How do you deal when
    what you see just     d o e s n ’t
    reflect your soul?
    The hips, the tits don’t exist
    and what is there is a     l i e .

The Big Question
    I’ve ignored two texts and a call.
    When I hear the landline ring
    I get off the bed, still ignoring
    the bastard mirror,
    open Hamlet , and sit at my desk.
    Mom knocks on the door.
    (I knew she would.)
    Opens it a crack
    and pokes her head in,
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œSweetie, it’s Vanessa?”
    (I knew it was.)
    I shrug.
    â€œStudying,” I say.
    Mom nods—
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â  like she believes me.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œI’ll tell her to call back?”
    She sounds like she’s asking
    a question. She’s not.
    Until she does.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œBrendy, are you all right?”
    Oh, so there’s ANOTHER question, not
    just to be or not to be. Hamlet, you ass-
    wipe, you had it all wrong.

I Can Tell
    Mom’s standing
    outside the door
    still waiting
    for me to answer.
    â€œJust tired,” I say.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œOkay.”
    Is that relief in her voice?
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â â€œLet me know if you
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â need anything.”
    I hear her move off down the hall.
    Knowing what I need is different
    than knowing what I don’t.
    I don’t need
    to let the world
    see me
    a curious shemale.

(Vanessa)
    Driving to