Marilyn put me in all the lies to her parents.
The nights she snuck out with boys or to smoke
Black N Milds with her cousin Manny & his best
friend Malik. Yes Mama Grace, we were watching Pokémon,
yes Mama Grace we watched it again, yes ma’am we really
do love that movie threading whatever I could
into a cinematic re-creation while Marilyn beamed
bad-girl, gleaming, getting away with everything.
It wasn’t long before Mia & Rachel put me in their lies
too, not that they even had anything to lie about.
It just felt good being able to lie & have a friend
no one suspected of treason. We were all virgins
& betted on who would lose it first. I was always last—
hairy, half-boy half-girl who got good grades
& could do no wrong. I never did anything
wrong. Not even when I let Anita’s brother touch me
under the sheet when we watched movies. Or when
Jessica showed me her nipple rings during play
rehearsal & I stopped myself from licking them.
Or when I got so angry at my sister
I filed my nails to points & watched her sleep.
Or how when Aisha tried to commit suicide
I stopped talking to her. I was so much of a lie
I rewrote my family for anyone who listened:
yes, my father lives in Pakistan, a surgeon that stitches
hearts back together, my mother a pediatrician in
New York, auntie to all her patients & yes
of course they love me. But Boston
has better public schools & I get to see them
every holiday & we go on long drives
& talk about what I want to be when I grow
up & what they did when they were my age & how
they met & named me & are just so, so proud.