One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies by Sonya Sones, Ann Sullivan Page A

trusted that scuzball. Why didn’t I listen to you? And don’t even get me started on Lizzie, that mega-skank …
    Well, I hope both of them choke on their giant Tic Tacs and that while they’re choking and grabbing their throats, while they’re turning three shades of purple and trying to give each other the Heimlich maneuver, while their eyes are rolling up into their heads and they’re gasping in vain for their last breaths of air, that they’ll be thinking of me and how they betrayed me.
    You don’t think that’s too harsh, do you, Mom?
    Love u 4 ever,
    Ruby

    There’s Been a Blizzard in Boston
    And the Weather Channel’s
been rubbing it in.
24/7.
    They keep on showing
all these real irritating clips
of twinkling snowdrifts
and frosted forests.
    They
keep on showing them.
And
I
keep on watching them.
I just can’t seem to get myself
to switch off the TV.
    I’ve been sitting here glued to the screen,
on the couch by the window,
with the sun streaming in on my head
practically giving me heatstroke.
    I’ve been sizzling here,
savoring the memory
of the soft sweet sting
of snowflakes melting on my cheeks.
    And the way
the whole world
just seems to white
to a halt.
    I’ve been simmering here,with the sun streaming in on my head,
remembering
the delicious suspense
    of sitting with Mom listening to the radio
in the early morning after a snowfall
and the miracle of hearing
my
school’s nam
on the no-school list!
    If I have to see one more
deliriously happy kid building a snowman,
I swear I’m going to put my foot
right through the TV screen.

    No Wonder I’ve Lost My Appetite
    When
I’m
barely touching my breakfast,
Lizzie and Ray
are eating lunch,
sitting alone together in the cafeteria
at that little table over by the window,
where Ray and I always used to eat.
    And when
I’m
staring at my lunch,
Lizzie and Ray
are walking home from school,
his hand stuck deep
into the back pocket of her jeans,
the way he used to walk with me.
    And when
I’m
picking at my dinner,
Lizzie and Ray

are writhing around
in the backseat of his Mustang,
just like Ray and I used to.
    Only he’s not fumbling
with
her
bra strap
like he used to fumble with
mine
.
Because Lizzie doesn’t even
wear
a bra.
She’s flatter than a CD.
    And it serves that you-know-what right.

    On the Way Home from School
    I see this guy holding up a sign that says:
HOMELESS MAN WILL MAKE LOVE
TO YOUR WIFE OR GIRLFRIEND
FOR FREE FOOD AND LODGING FOR THE NIGHT.
    Which you’ve got to admit is pretty funny.
    So I give him twenty dollars.
Just because he made me laugh.
Or maybe it’s because it’s so awesome
how he’s managed to keep his sense of humor.
    Even though his life obviously sucks.
    I wish
I
was better at that.
I could definitely
use some improvement
in the put-on-a-happy-face department.

    But I’m Not
That
Depressed
    Considering that
my best friend since preschool
stole the love of my life
even though she knew
it would rip me to shreds.
    Not
that
depressed,
considering that dear old Aunt Dufïy’s
still digging her way around the world
with that hot archaeologist of hers
and isn’t even available for comment.
    I’d say I’m doing
reasonably
well,
considering that Whip Logan knows
as much about how to cheer up teenage girls
as Cookie Monster knows
about mud wrestling.
    I’m not
that
depressed,
considering that tonight was the night
when I was supposed to be sneaking into
the guest room to fling myself into Ray’s arms
with three months worth of pent-up passion.
    Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.
But Ray’s not coming to see me.
My ex-best friend
is a weapon of mass destruction.
And Mom’s deader than ever.

    Depressed?
Who? Me?
Yes.
Hideously.
Not to mention way pissed off.
    Wouldn’t
you
be?

    Things I Am Thankful For

    Early Thanksgiving Morning
    When the smoke alarm in my bedroom goes off,
it takes less than a minute for Whip