Nikki Grimes - A Girl Named Mister

Dylan who?

“See you later,” Trey whispers.

distracting me a little more

for good measure.

So, of course,

I had to go back

to the top of the page

and start reading

“Do Not Go Gentle

Into that Good Night”

all over again.

I can’t usually stand know-it-all

b-ball players,

but I liked the way

Trey committed to

steering clear of drugs,

and how he talked about

keeping his body pure-

something we had in common,

even though I know

it doesn’t mean the same

for him and me.

Maybe, one day

it will.

Trey said he’d be happy

to hang out with me wherever,

so I invite him to video night

at church.

Soon as the lights wink out

in the rec room

and Princess Bride

blinks onto the screen

(never mind that we’ve all seen

it a gazillion times!),

Trey whispers in my ear

that he wants me all to himself.

No more of these group dates

on video night,

or lame trips (his words)

to the local skating rink

for spins around the ice

and cups of hot chocolate.

“Why can’t we,

you know,

go on a real date,

just you and me?”

yeah, why not?

I start thinking.

Why not?

“Careful,” Seth warned me.

“I see the way you look at Trey,

the way he looks at you.

Remember, we both promised God

we’d wait.”

“We’re not doing anything,” I told her.

We’re not doing anything,

I told myself.

Still, I couldn’t help but notice

how the purity band

on my ring finger

seemed loose lately.

Like any day now,

it might

just

slip

off.

Alone at his house,

his parents I don’t know where,

we sit on the sofa,

the TV watching the heat

rising between us.

I tingle all over

as Trey closes the distance.

It’s okay,

I tell myself.

I won’t let it go

too far.

But before I know it,

his hand is rubbing my inner thigh,

racing toward my waist,

reaching underneath my-

What am I doing?

“Stop!” I tell him

using what little breath

I have left,

too trapped

in my own frustration

to worry

about his.

I switch on the TV,

see this boy and girl

plastered against the wall

of some fictional school,

kissing their brains out,

then sneaking inside the boys’ room.

Together.

I shudder, slightly disgusted,

and turn away.

Still, I start to wonder

if all the other

kids are right.

Am I Miss Priss?

Am I making too big a deal

about waiting?

“You’re so beautiful,” says Trey,

his hands busy

with my buttons.

I finger the cross

round my neck.

A voice inside me chides

Remember:

you’re saving yourself for true love.

Trey must’ve heard.

How else to explain

him suddenly

cupping my face in his hands

and whispering,

“you’re killing me, girl.

you know I’m falling

in love with you.”

Nelly’s “Body on Me”

filters through the window.

I close my eyes,

wait for the music to end,

but I still can’t sleep.

The beat of my thoughts

a rhythm I can’t get

out of my head.

I just want you.

I just want to be

your addiction -

lines from a song

stirring in me

and the CD

isn’t even on.

Like a summer shower

falling in silver sheets

thick as curtains,

love rains down on me.

Love

and love

and love

and Trey

are all I see.

I can’t explain it.

I think Trey

and feel as if

I’ve swallowed warm honey

and a spoonful of sun.

I’m not that pretty,

still I’m the one

he wants.

Don’t ask me why.

I only know

it makes me happy.

And isn’t that what love is?

And isn’t love what God is?

So how can wanting more of this

be wrong?

Trey strokes my bare shoulder

and I shudder as

once-familiar words burst

like fireworks in my brain.

Something Pastor said about

temptation, and God’s help.

What was it?

I start to push away,

to study the words before

they fade.

“you’re sweet as

a chocolate Sunday,”

whispers Trey.

I smile, close my eyes,

and wait for more.

Before I know it,

my eyelids are screens

flashing the words

your body is a temple

of the -

“Silk wishes it were

as soft as you,”

Trey interrupts,

blowing hotly in my ear.

And after that, I swear

I don’t remember

much of anything.

Oh, God, oh, God! His hands

mapping every inch of me,

journeying where they shouldn’t be

but, ooooh!

Lord, I know you’ll understand.

you made my skin, Trey’s hand.

I never knew it could feel so-

What’s he doing?

Mmmm . He’s tracing my name

across my belly,

Mister, each letter

wet from his tongue.

God, I’m sorry but

I can’t stop,

don’t want to-

Oh God, oh God, Oh

God will forgive me,

right?

Right?

He sleeps, guiltless.

I slink out of bed,

slither into wrinkled shirt and jeans,

pretend I’m a shadow

creeping across the floor,

slipping out the door,

racing home quick as feet

can meet the air.

But no matter how fast I flee,

step by step

guilt gains on me.

It’s not that I thought

angels would sing,

or the sky would part.

I’m not a kid.

But I did think

there’d be this trade,

that I’d give something up

and he would too.

Instead,

I’m somehow less

and his more

is still locked away

in a mystery

of bone and skin,

and the sin of it

is that I’m empty now,

and keyless.

It wasn’t worth

all the guilt,

I know that much.

Besides, once he got past

the feeling-up part,

it was mostly pain.

Why do all those

stupid songs say

the first time

is the best?

What would Seth say?

I’m not ready to tell her, yet.

Not ready to see the look in her eye,

the one that says

What happened to the promise

you made to God?

I wish it was easier

breaking God’s law.

I wish that commitment band

didn’t burn my finger

like lye.

I snatched it off that night,

opened my bedroom window

and tossed it.

If Mom asks where it’s gone,

I’ll say I lost it.

What’s one more lie?