who is always afraid

but who helps protect Earth

from nine hundred fathoms below the sea.

Dolan Avenue House

Halfway through the year,

my father starts to spend

his days and nights

in the garment district,

selling the hand-painted

clothes my mother designs.

He tells me once,

on his way to work,

This is how we survive.

I hardly see him.

They let me

take the bus now,

over the Golden Gate

on Sunday nights

to stay with Pick’s

family on Dolan Avenue

off Shoreline Highway

a few days a week.

They even bought

me a bike to keep

at Pick’s house.

Every day, from the house,

we ride our bikes

to school along

the bike path,

through the marsh.

At first,

it feels like

long sleepovers,

whispering stories

in the dark,

learning not

to be alone.

This family, so kind to me,

even though they pack

mostly gross vegetables for lunch,

eat salads every day,

eat nearly invisible

portions at dinner,

even though I am

always starving.

The First Time I Meet Lisa

I spin the combo

on my bike lock,

but it won’t open.

I breathe heavy

and groan in frustration.

The first bell is about to ring.

Frank laughs as he walks by.

What’s the matter—

are your fingers too fat

for the lock?

I don’t look.

Why don’t you just shut up.

I hear her voice

like a bolt of lightning.

The lock pops open.

Her long blond hair

shines against her green

military jacket,

her arms filled with books.

She puts out her hand

with a thousand silver bracelets.

I’m Lisa.

But I know this.

I saw her my very first day,

the rebel girl

who misses school sometimes,

who looks like she’s in high school.

I’m Ari, and we shake,

walk toward the bike racks.

How is it being the new kid?

Oh, it’s great, I lie.

She looks at me

like she’s waiting for the joke to end.

Where did you move from?

New York, I say.

Wow, she says. I wanna go there one day.

You know, I say, it’s a grid.

What? She looks at me.

A grid.

You know, the way the city is built,

like on a big sheet of graph paper.

Like this? Lisa opens a journal

filled with blue-and-white graph paper

with drawings of dragons, and daggers,

and castles against dark skies.

Wow, those are amazing.

Thanks. She smiles,

turns to walk toward class.

I blurt out,

Hey, we are making a game

about giant robots!

Cool, she says.

Maybe you can show me some time?

She waves with her notebook,

so comfortable

in her own body,

curves and all.

I can tell because

I’m an expert

in uncomfortable.

Bye, Ari!

and she runs

toward her homeroom.

Pencil Space

I am box-shaped.

I waddle when I walk.

When I sit down,

my sides

squirt out from my pants

and create a ridge.