“Just don’t forget El’s first appointment

with the therapist.”

Down I go.

Fast.

Hard.

Like when the other person

jumps off the teeter-totter and

throws everything off-balance.

“Huh? Wait. What?”

Mom’s shoulders droop as

one hand freezes on the doorknob.

“You said you’d tell her.”

She shoots eye daggers at Dad.

He shoos her away like an annoying fly.

“Go on. I’ve got this.”

The whale has to go to a shrink?

It’s a punch line for a bad fat joke.

JUDASED

Dad rips the weight-loss articles off the fridge

and tosses them into the trash.

“I’m sorry you found out this way.”

He says he never got around

to talking to me about the therapist

because he’d been swamped with work—

but then he goes on and on about

the importance of talking.

Do parents ever hear themselves?

“You’re a psychiatrist, Dad.

I talk to you all the time.”

Dad straddles the chair next to me.

“It’s not the same thing.

Your mom and I agree

Dr. Wood could help you.”

Translation?

Mom nagged, and Dad caved.

“Judasssssss!”

I hiss the s like

a western diamondback rattlesnake.

Dad’s always had my back.

Not the knife in it.

THE LESSER OF TWO DEVILS

I don’t ride the bus.

Dad takes me.

When we turn the final corner

and I can see the school,

my stomach somersaults;

it’s the only part of me

that can do gymnastics.

I text Viv.

I really need her,

especially after that

freaking family breakfast.

Don’t know if I can do this alone, Viv.

I’m freaking out.

Just chill.

I’m tryin’.

It’s just—ugh.

I add a string of emojis.

Frowny face.

Worried face.

Sad face.

I know.

I know.

She adds a hug emoji.

But if I can do it, so can you.

After all, I’ve gotta go to

a whole new school.

Remember, the devil you do know

is better than the devil you don’t!

Yeah. But they’re both devils.

H-E-DOUBLE-HOCKEY-STICK

Happy Monday, Dallas!

the radio deejay yells over the airwaves

as Dad pulls into the drop-off lane.

Gonna hit one hundred and ten!

Perfect weather to hang out by the pool.

I wish.

“Okay, Ellie. Have a good day at—”

I slam the door,

cutting Dad off.

As he pulls away,

I hear someone singing

“Baby Beluga.”

I don’t have to turn around to know

it’s Marissa.

And so it begins.

Giggles.

Stares.

Rejection.

The devils I do know.

Kortnee holds open the door—until I head in.

It slams, nearly smashing my face.

“Oopsie!”

she yells over her shoulder.

Even without the scorching Texas sun,

I am officially in

h-e-double-hockey-stick.

PRETEND-IOUS PRETENTIOUS

While conjugating verbs in French class,

I imagine Viv

at her new school and

figure I stink

because I don’t want to think

of her making new friends.

To punish myself,