"Like Looking in a Mirror"

If Meeka’s heart were a hand it’d be balled into a tight fist. I may not be able to read auras like Granny Pearl but anybody could feel the anger seeping out of Meeka’s skinny bones all day. She sucked in her teeth at school so much I’m surprised her gums aren’t bleeding by now. When I ask her what’s wrong she tells me “nothing” and gives me a look like I’ve just slammed her head against a wall.


Everyone and everything received the effects of Hurricane Meeka today. In science, instead of merely studying the various parts of an embalmed amphibian, Meeka stabbed the poor, lifeless creatures several times; she punched her locker with her new suede boots when a cute boy walked by and smiled at her; she ripped up her essay on tragic love in English class, informing Mr. Johnson that “anyone who believes in love is a Cunumunu,” before storming out of class.


Like everyone else, I only wanted to stay out of Hurricane Meeka’s way. But after Mr. Johnson’s class, she yanked the sleeve of my sweatshirt and asked me to come home with her. There were bolts of red veins in her normally clear eyes and dark shadows below them. Her eyes were shiny with a mixture of hope and sadness. For a moment, it was like looking in a mirror. So of course, I said yes.