Forget Me Not by Carolee Dean Page A

anyway?”
    “To tell you the truth,” said Megan,
    “I don’t really know.”
    Was I dreaming? Was this
    some kind of psycho
    nightmare? I had to
    pinch myself to make sure
    I was awake.
    “You have to be careful
    about your reputation,” Darla
    told her, “hanging around with a girl
    like that.”
    I ran to the bathroom
    and splashed water on my face,
    then I looked in the mirror
    to make sure I was really there.
    What was happening?
    Was I really losing all my friends,
    or my mind,
    or both?

THE GIRLS ON THE DANCE TEAM
    started ignoring me
    after that,
    treating me like
    I didn’t exist.
    Even Megan and the other freshmen
    started whispering words
    like slut and whore
    when I passed.
    Friday night Darla changed
    the dance routine and
    “forgot” to tell me,
    making me look like
    an idiot in front of the
    whole school
    during the game.
    Afterward
    I found
    ten packages of condoms
    in my gym locker
    with a note that said,
    “Hope these get you
    through the night.”
    When Dad asked me why I was crying,
    I told him I wanted to quit.
    He said,
    “There is no I
    in ‘TEAM.’”
    Oh, Dad.
    Don’t you know?
    There
    is no
    I
    anywhere.

LATER THAT NIGHT
    I went to stay with Brianna.
    She was the only person
    who was still talking to me.
    Plus I was
    hoping for a chance
    to explain things to Davis.
    I didn’t love Will.
    I didn’t even like him.
    What happened was a mistake.
    A drug-induced nightmare.
    While I waited for Davis to get home,
    I tried time after time to start
    a conversation with Bri.
    But she just sat there
    watching some stupid documentary
    on whaling that she’d ordered from Netflix.
    We finally went to bed around eleven
    in silence.
    At midnight I snuck into
    Davis’s room.
    He wasn’t there.
    I went back at one
    two
    three
    No Davis.
    When I returned I found Brianna
    sitting up in bed.
    “You’re not my friend,” she said.
    “And I don’t want you coming over anymore.
    The only reason you’re here is because
    you want to screw my brother.”
    Her words lay between us like a wall of glass.
    Mostly because they were true.

WHEN I GOT TO WORLD HISTORY
    the next Monday,
    half the class giggled
    and the other half looked away in disgust.
    They were huddled around Megan.
    My phone started to buzz.
    I opened it to see the words
    NEW PIX MESSAGE
    It was from Brianna’s
    number.
    I reluctantly pressed Open,
    and a picture of me,
    bare-chested, lying next to Davis,
    flashed on the screen—
    only you couldn’t tell it was him
    because at the last minute he had
    covered his face with his arm.
    My heart skipped a beat.
    I wondered why
    she was sending it then,
    after all those weeks had passed.
    Now I wonder
    if she sent it at all.
    “The Twins are looking healthy,”
    said a boy in the back row,
    and the whole class started laughing.
    At that moment I wanted
    to be invisible.
    They all held up their cell phones
    like they were at a rock
    concert, and pictures of me
    filled the room.

THE GETAWAY
    “Where are you going?”
    Mr. Jones asked
    as I tried to run out of the room.
    “The bathroom,” I told him.
    “Oh no, you don’t.
    You know the rules.
    No passes for the first
    ten minutes of class.”
    I cowered
    in my seat
    while voices
    behind me giggled.
    Sat watching
    the clock until
    the ten minutes
    was up, and I swear,
    time stopped.
    And when it did,
    a little voice
    in my head
    whispered,
    You’d be better off dead.

GONE IN SIXTY SECONDS
    In less than a minute
    I was gone.
    Whoever I was before
    that moment disappeared.
    Sometimes I can’t even
    recall who she was.
    The girl who wanted to
    light up the stage.
    The girl who would stand
    up in front of class
    and make her classmates laugh
    with her spoofs of Poe.
    Sure, they were all laughing,
    but they were calling me “ho.”
    I got a text from Cricket,
    an old middle school friend.
    I looked at my photo and cringed.
    WTF. IS THIS REALLY YOU, ALLY?
    DID U KNOW THERE’S A WEB POLL WITH THIS ON IT
    CALLED PICK YOUR FAVORITE