I NEED YOU

I’m so glad to escape

and return to school Monday.

Rachel’s been chosen to chair

the decorations committee

for the spring dance.

As we walk through the hallways,

she grabs my arm.

“You have to help, Maisie!”

I shake my head doubtfully.

“Look, I wish, truly wish, your dad

was still around

and that he wasn’t a jerk

and that your mother wasn’t a bitch

and that you weren’t so glum—”

“Well, they are and I am!”

“But you have to co-chair the committee

with me anyway! I need you!”

“I’m not … See … I can’t …

Divorce is a little overwhelming.”

Rachel stops walking.

“Divorce? Are you sure?”

That D word hangs there.

My eyes gaze out the window at the misty clouds.

The air is greenish,

like my least favorite Jell-O.

I say, “Air is Jell-O.

I can hardly breathe.”

“I hate breathing Jell-O!” Rachel says.

“Especially the orange kind.”

“The yellow is worse,” I counter.

I’m relieved to joke a little.

Then she hugs me tightly right there

in front of the display case in the hallway,

housing papier-mâché art projects

and announcements for band practice

and awkward photographs of the faculty

looking overworked, pasty,

and not remotely content.

I feel kind of lucky.