Read Online Something About Love: A YA contemporary romance in verse by Elana Johnson - Free Book Online

their separate cars,
    Drive away one after the other.
    When he came out of the bathroom,
    I couldn’t speak.
    I didn’t tell him,
    Didn’t tell anyone.
    How can I tell Trevor?
How can I tell my dad?

I HATE MY MOTHER
    My next journal entry reads.
    It’s dated a few weeks after the previous one, and
    I remember not being able to record my thoughts and feelings
    After seeing her and Darren Youngblood at the dock.
    I’d felt dammed with frustration,
    Plugged full of words,
    Horrified.
    Every time Mom left,
    I wondered if she was meeting Darren.
    I stopped believing what she said;
    I was suspicious of every “meeting” she had,
    Every “errand” she needed to run without me and Rose,
    Every “night she went to the gym” after six o’clock.
    I hate Darren Youngblood
    Says the next line.
    That comprises the entire entry, and
    I don’t write in this journal again.

“GRAMMA-LINDA!”
    Rose yells before throwing herself into our grandmother’s arms.
    Gramma-Linda smiles,
    Pressing Rose close to her.
    I smile too,
    Watching them.
    Rose, at nine years old,
    Only a few inches shorter than
    Gramma-Linda.
    “Take my books, hon,”
    She tells Rose,
    Handing her a bulging shoulder bag.
    Rose stumbles under the weight, and
    I marvel at how Gramma-Linda managed to bring so many books,
    Especially on such short notice.
    “Olivia,” she says, and
    While she’s my mom’s mother,
    Her voice is kind,
    Soft, and
    Doesn’t make me want to stab out my own eyes.
    “How are you?”
    She clutches me to her in a tight hug, and
    I get that noseful of baby powder and sugar
    I’ve been anticipating.
    “I’m good,” I say as
    I squeeze her back.
    “Looks like you just got your hair done.”
    She pulls away and pats her perfectly sculpted curls.
    “Just yesterday.”
    She examines me in much the same way my mother does, and
    That annoys me.
    I turn away just as Rose comes out of the kitchen with her backpack.
    “Leaving already?”
    Gramma-Linda asks,
    Her voice set on syrup-sweet.
    I know as soon as Rose leaves for the bus,
    Gramma-Linda will pry,
    Asking things like, “How are you really doing?”

“ENGLISH FIRST,”
    Gramma-Linda says after
    Rose heads to the bus stop,
    After Dad goes to work.
    Gramma-Linda piles the books on the kitchen table,
    Where we’re sitting.
    “Fine,” I mutter,
    Pulling out the only book that looks like a novel.
    “ Huckleberry Finn ?”
    I meet my grandma’s eyes.
    “I read this last year.”
    I don’t tell her that I only read the first seven chapters, then
    Faked my way through the quizzes,
    Reports, and
    Tests,
    Because it was boring.
    She plucks it from my fingers.
    “Okay, then.
    I’ll bring A Tale of Two Cities tomorrow.
    Have you read that?”
    “No,” I say,
    Waiting for her next subject of torture.
    “A one-page essay on Mark Twain, then.”
    She tucks the novel back into her shoulder bag,
    Glancing at me from over the top of her glasses.
    “You have a computer, don’t you?”
    “Yes,” I say, “You want me to do the essay right now?”
    “Right now,”
    She echoes before getting to her feet and
    Shuffling to the couch in the living room.
    “Wake me up when you finish.
    I’ll proofread it for you.
    Then we’ll do geography.”

“TORTURE?”
    Jacey repeats as I pull into Taco Bell.
    “So much torture,” I tell her.
    “Which is why I need Mexican food.”
    “Better than here, I bet,” she says, and
    I think of Trevor,
    Of seeing him in the hall,
    Of continuing our playful banter.
    Then I remember Joey, and
    His crude comments;
    The notes, and
    Their hateful messages;
    The lockers, and
    How the janitor couldn’t quite match the old paint color—
    A constant reminder that
    Something happened.
    “Still not sure,” I say before placing my order,
    Though I have no desire to return to the hallways of Copper Hills High,
    Definitely don’t want to risk seeing Harris again.
    Jacey takes the tater tots I pass her, but
    I almost drop my soda when she says,
    “You’re