WEEK 23

All I’m saying is
you haven’t met her
have you, James?
No.
So you can say hate is a strong word
and I will hear your words
like Mrs. B says.
I will digest your words
like a chicken leg
bouncing in my stomach.
I will let your words
move through my blood vessels
infiltrate my brain
leave deposits of word vitamins
through my whole self.
But I won’t stop saying hate
because I do hate her.
Also, I do not think Mrs. B agrees with you.
She likes feeling words, James.
They are her sunshine.
So don’t tell me all these things you know.
You don’t know anything.

Dear James,
Mrs. B is making me write this.
You are right and I am wrong.
Mrs. B does, in fact, hate the word hate.
Well, I guess she dislikes the word hate.
Very much.
Feeling words can be strong.
They can have muscles
and meat on their bones.
They can express your spinning guts,
they can shout your insides to the outside
(but different than throwing up
which you can call shouting groceries
if you want
because I read it somewhere
so that’s a thing I am not making up).
But feeling words should also be meaningful.
That’s what Mrs. B says.
Hate is not meaningful.
Hate is not productive.
Hate shouts groceries all over more complex emotions.
You know, writing this letter is making me want to
shout groceries.
Mary makes me want to
shout groceries.
A lot of times, James, YOU make me want to
shout groceries.
And Mrs. B.
Oh, you are the queen.
The queen of spinning my guts.
So I’m sorry, James,
for saying you don’t know anything.
Because you know everything.
JAMES KNOWS ALL OF THE THINGS.
JAMES IS THE KING OF EVERYTHING.
Mrs. B is reading over my shoulder.
Her cheeks are so red.
Hahaha.
She is really ma—

Levi was wearing cloth trach ties
instead of the chains.
Thick, damp ties
smelling of sour milk,
baby cheese.
What are these?
My voice was loud.
Mary just looked at me
with cow eyes.
Where did the chains go?
More cow eyes.
Then, her high-pitched voice:
The chains are against regulation.
My loud voice just kept coming:
The chains keep him happy.
The chains keep him dry.
The chains prevent infections on his neck.
My face is hot, my breathing hard.
Mom comes in, takes my hand,
pulls me away
and while I stand in the kitchen
hating Mary
(Yes, James. Yes, Mrs. B. Hating her.)
I hear Mom say,
He’s just a boy, yes,
but he loves his brother very much.
Are we back to Levi being a screaming burrito
so many many many times a day?
Erasing Marisol’s smart idea of the chains?
That’s when I thought about punching the wall
right there in the kitchen.
Pow.
But I didn’t.
I just walked out.

I walked out
and went to the only place I can go,
even though technically
I should have told Mom
where I was going,
and even though technically
I should have told José’s mom
that I was coming.
But here I am.
I won’t stay long.
I just need to catch my breath.

Only ten minutes
ticktock ticktock
until Sofia needed to start writing her paper,
until I needed to go back home.
Isa leaned over my shoulder,
her hair as the curtain next to my face
instead of Mrs. B’s curtain.
The Google box was blank.
I couldn’t type.
My brain was a black hole
pulling every particle of Isa
into it
and forgetting everything else.

Look.
Isa stood behind me, her arm reaching over my shoulder.
She pointed to the screen
but I looked at her arm,
at the freckle just above the inside of her elbow.
It’s a really nice freckle.
Round
but slightly gross.
There’s a hair in the middle.
A really long hair.
You’re not looking.
My eyes traced her arm to get to the screen.
Isa tapped the monitor.
It’s not a touch screen, I said.
I know, dummy.
She smacked the back of my head with her other hand.
LOOK.
I looked.
Dr. Samuel Sawyer
Cincinnati Children’s Hospital
specialty: airway
Accepting new patients
We did it!
We found someone!
But wait.
Cincinnati?
Uuugh.
Might as well be Antarctica.
And of course he’s the only doctor
in the whole freaking country
who does this surgery.

I dropped my head on the desk.
A hand patted my shoulder.
I peeked open my eyes
saw the freckle one more time,
so pretty
so gross.
Nothing is perfect, is it?

Reckless is the word Mom used.
How would I know you were going to José’s house?!
she asked, slamming her hand on the table.
How would I know you wouldn’t be
wandering the streets
getting into trouble
getting picked up again
getting sent to juvie for real?!
How do we know anything?
That’s what I said.
Maybe I should have said
But I found him!
I found the doctor who can save Levi!
But I didn’t.
I didn’t say anything else.
I just stared at the table
while my mind went crazy
saying Cincinnati
Cincinnati
Cincinnati
over and over and over again.
Timothy!
Mom grabbed my arm.
Are you even listening to me?
You have to be responsible now.
You can’t go back to juvie.
You just can’t.
And she started to cry.