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Anais Vionet May 21
Leong and I are at a party, a graduating-high-school-senior throw-down. Their school year is over, and they are ready to darty. We’re at a lake house, well away from parents and neighbors.

These are the kids I high-schooled with - I just got promoted a year early. I get a lot of nods, waves and winks from some guys but none of them approach, like a mysterious inversion of attitudes has occurred - as if Yale were a nunnery and I’m a known novitiate. It’s just as well, I’m not looking for a hookup.

It’s Friday night, about 11:30 pm, the party started long ago and it’s britney-spears-2007. There are drunk girls in the pool in their underwear (Ok, that’s just exhibitionism, who comes to a lake party without a bathing suit?).

We’ve been here for about a half an hour, long enough to dance a couple of times. It’s hot and we’re sweaty but we can’t swim - Leong and I are moon sisters tonight - it’s our trauma bond. Our ad hoc solution, rubbing our arms and necks with ice, is congroovesive.

Leong is loving the bash, she keeps saying, “crazy,” like when large football players jump from the second story roof into the pool. It’s a huge pool, a huge party (with maybe 150 kids), a sound system that Led Zeppelin would envy and the house is a beach.

Everett, the host for tonight’s decadence, comes over and takes a seat by Leong and my lounge chairs. He’s a handsome guy, but there’s a cocky, entitled edge there that’s off-putting. He can be nice when he’s not trying to impress anyone.

There’s a break in the music. “You’re traveling this summer, I hear - me too - what games will you be playing?” He asks,
“I have my switch with me,” I say, “it travels well - not the whole console mind you - that seemed too extra - just the switch. So I’ll be playing Animal Crossing and Zelda - what about you?”
“Oh, I’m gonna play Grand Theft Auto - It was my favorite as a kid,” he says.
“You played GTA as a KID??” I gasp, “Why has THIS never come up?”
“I don’t know.” He admits
“How did your parents let you have that?” I ask, astonished.
“My dad’s the one who turned me onto it,” he confides, “he wanted a partner.”
“No wonder you love ******* music!” I say, making new connections.
“I DO.” He laughed. “You do,” I confirm, knowingly.

He holds a bottle of deep red something near my glass and raises his eyebrows.
“You can gas me up,” I laughed, “I’m not driving, I’m ok with it.”
Leong holds up her glass as well and he pours generously into our Sprites.

“What song can I play for you?” He asks, as a reward.
“I’m going to go basic,” I announce, after thinking about party music, “Beat it, by Fall out boy”
“You got it,” he nods, taking a moment to text the request to the DJ, before moving on to the next table.

After a moment, “Beat it” begins, there are a few cheers, but conversation becomes impossible.

Congratulations seniors everywhere!
BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Ad hoc: "something used for immediate needs."

throw down = large party
darty = drunken party.
britney-spears-2007 = crazy
DJ = digital jockey
moon sisters = girls who have synchronized periods
congroovesive = something that helps to get your groove back
a beach = somewhere you’d like to live forever.
riri Jan 4
preparing months for an exam
for a number that supposedly determines your worth
******* up to teachers, people you don't even like
just for them to hopefully write a few commendable words about you

all for the hopes of being deemed "acceptable" to some supposed authority
for a place that will decide what you'll be doing for the rest of your life
making these drastic decisions at the age of 18
when not too long ago you were just picking out your prom dress

listing down any type of hobby or recreation you have
to make yourself seem a little more unique
since the competitiveness between you and your peers is sharper than a knife
who will make the final cut in the end and be deemed worthy?
that's all we do. that's all we've been doing for years as a society.
Ahmad Attr Nov 2021
The gaps between his fingers were filled by mine
Fidgeting thumb, cut on his index, sweaty palm lines
His hands were strong and confident but not heavy
Soft as his whispers and gentle as the light

He didn’t let go
He was never afraid of the droning eyes
In the class, by the window
There was a tiny union
A synthesis of pure love

And when my hands got shaky
Out of fear of getting caught
His grip grew tighter
Pressing his nails deeper against my knuckles
It gave my bones life
His strength became mine

So there sat a passionate clam
in the lake, a gap between our chairs
such comfort in his embrace, unfound since then
not even in the arms of men that loved me
not those who forced me towards their prows
I think it was true love
Because it is gone now
Gerard M Dec 2021
It's the name of a girl that I once knew

Who I shared so many memories with

Had fun talking to during lunch and on the bus with

Someone who I hope good things come to

That I will surely miss and will try to keep being friends with

Someone who's friends with me except for the fact that I'm LGBTQIA+

A girl who I'll say thank you for being a friend to
It's about a friend of mine
noor Sep 2021
we play, we play, we play

we play with peoples hearts
we play them like a game

we play with our grades
and end up working like maids

we play with our teachers
giving them a hard time
who cares though, cause whose time are they really wasting?
its mine, its mine, its mine!

we think high schools a joke,
so lets all just play!

we think friendships are fun,
we make a friend, and dump one!

we are pretty, pretty, pretty
and thats all that matters, really

looks and body counts, boys, and purging out

this wont matter in 4 measly years,
so lets all just have fun and enjoy these useless couple of years!
i was seething with anger while typing this
Gerard M Jul 2021
There's two people that will always stand out to me

Both of them are poets and writers

But one of them is also a chapter book writer

The other once said "NEVERMORE"

The other didn't but only read that quote

Now the only thing they both have in common with me is that they inspired me to write poetry
This poem is about who inspired me to write poetry which is my high school English teacher and one of my favorite poets Edgar Allan Poe
grace Jun 2021
I’m the most stereotypical teenager you’ve ever met.
I spend all my time with my friends.
I like frappuccinos and I’m obsessed
With my social media pages.

I fell in love with a boy;
And, when he broke my heart,
I sobbed on the floor for weeks
And then dyed my hair blonde and moved on.

I wore a pretty blue dress and sparkly heels to prom.
I graduated at the top of my class,
President of the honor society,
Friends with everyone.

I’m your stereotypical teenage girl.
I’m the main character in a Disney channel original movie.
I have everything, I think.
Why can’t I sleep at night?

What they don’t tell you in the movies
Is that when I’m not with my friends, I feel lost and alone.
When I was heartbroken, I fell apart.
I’m successful, but at what cost?

The stereotypical teenage girl gets 3 hours of sleep a night.
I spend most of the night doing work,
But I also spend time texting my friends and flirting with boys.
When I’m alone with only myself, do I still fit the stereotype?
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