I don't know where to put my anger

Z brought her newspaper clippings to school

I sat on the hallway floor, homeroom waiting

she plopped her backpack down and I shrieked “girl, Sophie likes Amir!!”

no gossip today, she spread the pages out.

October 18th, 2001, my father got shot at the park she said.

Ten years ago, today.

 

so I remember my 6th grade mouth being all dry,

stuffed with slow words.

I’m sorry. so we just sat in silence.

 

most days went fast when Z taught me how she

smacked her tongue and danced to get boys mad,

definitely the reason I could flirt with Elijah and Daniel.

“asking all the questions” we’d sing “ASSUME!”

I always felt two steps behind her confidence

 

I tried to write about this for my college

application essay

I don’t get it, my counselor said.

 

Albany’s got a couple parks I’ve never been to

I don’t know which park Z’s father was killed at, but I

think it’s one of those.

I heard she has a baby now.

I haven’t talked to Z since 6th grade.

I stopped smacking my tongue because it feels fake,

but sometimes I still dance like she did

to show I’m different.