A Girl Named Mister Read online

  A Girl Named Mister

  Nikki Grimes

  Bestselling author Nikki Grimes, author of Dark Sons, Barak Obama: Son of Promise, Child of Hope, and Voices of Christmas, presents the story of Mister, a teenage girl who honestly and poignantly tells her story of temptation and teenage pregnancy through free verse, and who finds support and forgiveness from God through a book of poetry presented from the virgin Mary's perspective.

  Nikki Grimes

  A Girl Named Mister

  Copyright © 2010 by Nikki Grimes

  Prologue

  Mary: When Gabriel Comes

  I.

  A bright light turns the night

  of my chamber into day

  and pries my eyes open.

  What do I see?

  A being lit from within,

  a giant whose voice

  is quiet thunder.

  “Fear not,” he says, too late.

  I quake, rubbing my eyes

  anxious to wake

  from this dream.

  “I am Gabriel,”

  says the voice, more soothing now.

  “I bring a message from God.”

  Trembling, I rise

  ready to listen.

  Still, what am I to make

  of his amazing words?

  That I, a virgin,

  am to be mother of Messiah?

  II.

  All things are possible

  with God.

  The truth of it

  falls on me like rain.

  I slowly drink it in,

  then lift my arms,

  surrendered.

  “I am yours, Lord.

  Do with me as you will.”

  He wraps his light around me.

  I am never the same again.

  Mister: First Touch

  How did it happen?

  I told myself

  it’s only touching.

  I told myself

  my clothes are still on.

  But who was I kidding?

  Even through

  my rayon-cotton blend

  his touch

  burned the world away.

  Cave quicquam incipias quod paeniteat postea.

  “Be careful about starting something you may regret.”

  – Syrus, Maxims

  A Girl Named Mister

  Blame it on my mother.

  She’s the one who named me

  Mary Rudine.

  The name is some throwback

  her old-fashioned thinking

  came up with.

  Nobody but Mom

  has called me Mary Rudine

  since forever.

  First it was Mary,

  then it was M.R.

  Mister is all anybody

  calls me now.

  My boyfriend used to think

  it was cute,

  a girl named Mister.

  Used to think I was cute.

  Used to be my boyfriend

  what feels like

  a million years ago.

  Then again, I used to be

  a good Christian girl,

  the kind who would never, well…

  Just goes to show

  how little people know.

  Even I was surprised by me.

  Now, I close my eyes

  hoping to see

  exactly where I went wrong.

  When It Was Good

  Was it that long ago?

  I remember one morning

  sitting in church,

  keeping my eyes on Dante,

  the cutest boy in the band.

  Mom caught me.

  “Quit eyeing that guitarist

  like candy,” she whispered.

  I laughed easy.

  In those days,

  Mom and me,

  we could talk

  about anything.

  Temple of My Redeemer

  A second home,

  as familiar as skin.

  Crammed inside its walls

  memories of

  Sunday school,

  all-church picnics,

  and vacation Bible school

  Sword drills.

  My youth group meets there,

  and choir, of course.

  Even my old Girl Scout troop

  once hung out

  on holy ground,

  meeting in

  the church basement.

  I could always

  count on the deacons

  to take dozens of cookies

  off my hands.

  I’m just saying,

  God’s house

  was cozy territory,

  no question.

  Until this last year.

  Don’t ask me why,

  but something in me

  started pulling away.

  Choir

  For as long as I can remember,

  I have loved to sing in the choir.

  “Sing, Mister” folks call out

  as my voice does a high-wire

  reaching for heaven’s hem.

  I don’t know what my friend Sethany

  concentrates on,

  but whenever she sings

  about the Lord

  her face gets this inside-out glow.

  That’s all I know.

  Something’s Missing

  Ankle deep,

  my faith a thing

  I wade into now and then.

  Not like Sethany.

  She’s mid-sea

  and thinks I’m

  right behind her.

  For Me

  I’m not sure when it happened,

  but one Sunday I woke up

  and for me,

  church was mostly about

  hanging out with friends

  at God’s house.

  And for the longest time,

  that seemed to be enough.

  After worship,

  Mom would flash me a smile

  that said “Good girl!”

  as Seth and I

  trotted off

  to youth group.

  Restless

  I turned the music

  of the world

  way up,

  my feet itching to dance

  to a new rhythm,

  something other than

  gospel.

  Sophomore Shuffle

  Mom calls volleyball

  my new religion

  just ‘cause

  I practice every day.

  How else will I get better?

  Let her razz me

  all she wants.

  I figure

  since I was good enough

  to make the team,

  maybe volleyball

  can help pay my way

  to college.

  It could happen.

  you know what they say

  about miracles.

  Then Came Trey

  It was a Tuesday.

  It was almost cliché.

  He raced round a corner,

  rushing to class,

  and smashed into me.

  My books went flying

  and so did my temper.

  Thanks to this bonehead

  I was going to be late,

  which put me in no mood

  for his apology,

  and I was all ready

  to cut him down to size

  with my eyes,

  until I caught his.

  Those long lashes got me,

  the way they softened

  the hardscape of his face.

  One look,

  and they softened me too.

  “Are you okay?” asked Trey.

  I said something, I think,

  or
maybe I just nodded,

  or smiled.

  It’s not my fault

  I can’t remember.

  Blame it on

  those stupid lashes.

  Outsider

  I asked around,

  found out Trey

  is one of those guys

  who hangs out on the fringes

  of our group.

  He doesn’t go to church

  but seems to like

  Christian kids,

  so I figure

  he probably believes in God.

  That’s one point

  in his favor.

  Just Friends

  I never thought

  he was perfect.

  I won’t tell myself

  that lie.

  But he was fine,

  had a twinkle in his eye

  with my name on it.

  And when he smiled

  I fell into him

  headfirst,

  got lost in his laughter.

  I saw no danger.

  After all,

  we were just friends.

  Trey’s Girl

  I remember the first time

  he claimed me.

  We were at a party

  with a bunch of kids from school

  just after Thanksgiving.

  I’d gone with Sethany.

  Trey had shown up on his own,

  like always.

  Seth and I were chatting away

  when some guy

  from a school ‘cross town

  came up to me for a dance.

  Before I had a chance to speak,

  Trey threw me a look,

  then got all in this guy’s face,

  smiling though

  and saying nice as anything,

  “Excuse me, but

  this is my girl.”

  Dylan Thomas

  Trey found me in the library,

  surprised me with a kiss

  on the back of my neck.

  The heat of it

  ran up and down my spine

  and I’m thinking,

  Dylan who?

  “See you later,” Trey whispers.

  distracting me a little more

  for good measure.

  So, of course,

  I had to go back

  to the top of the page

  and start reading

  “Do Not Go Gentle

  Into that Good Night”

  all over again.

  Into Him

  I can’t usually stand know-it-all

  b-ball players,

  but I liked the way

  Trey committed to

  steering clear of drugs,

  and how he talked about

  keeping his body pure-

  something we had in common,

  even though I know

  it doesn’t mean the same

  for him and me.

  Maybe, one day

  it will.

  Date

  Trey said he’d be happy

  to hang out with me wherever,

  so I invite him to video night

  at church.

  Soon as the lights wink out

  in the rec room

  and Princess Bride

  blinks onto the screen

  (never mind that we’ve all seen

  it a gazillion times!),

  Trey whispers in my ear

  that he wants me all to himself.

  No more of these group dates

  on video night,

  or lame trips (his words)

  to the local skating rink

  for spins around the ice

  and cups of hot chocolate.

  “Why can’t we,

  you know,

  go on a real date,

  just you and me?”

  yeah, why not?

  I start thinking.

  Why not?

  Don’t Remind Me

  “Careful,” Seth warned me.

  “I see the way you look at Trey,

  the way he looks at you.

  Remember, we both promised God

  we’d wait.”

  “We’re not doing anything,” I told her.

  We’re not doing anything,

  I told myself.

  Still, I couldn’t help but notice

  how the purity band

  on my ring finger

  seemed loose lately.

  Like any day now,

  it might

  just

  slip

  off.

  Just Us

  Alone at his house,

  his parents I don’t know where,

  we sit on the sofa,

  the TV watching the heat

  rising between us.

  I tingle all over

  as Trey closes the distance.

  It’s okay,

  I tell myself.

  I won’t let it go

  too far.

  But before I know it,

  his hand is rubbing my inner thigh,

  racing toward my waist,

  reaching underneath my-

  What am I doing?

  “Stop!” I tell him

  using what little breath

  I have left,

  too trapped

  in my own frustration

  to worry

  about his.

  Exposure

  I switch on the TV,

  see this boy and girl

  plastered against the wall

  of some fictional school,

  kissing their brains out,

  then sneaking inside the boys’ room.

  Together.

  I shudder, slightly disgusted,

  and turn away.

  Still, I start to wonder

  if all the other

  kids are right.

  Am I Miss Priss?

  Am I making too big a deal

  about waiting?

  The “L” Word

  “You’re so beautiful,” says Trey,

  his hands busy

  with my buttons.

  I finger the cross

  round my neck.

  A voice inside me chides

  Remember:

  you’re saving yourself for true love.

  Trey must’ve heard.

  How else to explain

  him suddenly

  cupping my face in his hands

  and whispering,

  “you’re killing me, girl.

  you know I’m falling

  in love with you.”

  MTV

  Nelly’s “Body on Me”

  filters through the window.

  I close my eyes,

  wait for the music to end,

  but I still can’t sleep.

  The beat of my thoughts

  a rhythm I can’t get

  out of my head.

  I just want you.

  I just want to be

  your addiction-

  lines from a song

  stirring in me

  and the CD

  isn’t even on.

  Losing Ground

  Like a summer shower

  falling in silver sheets

  thick as curtains,

  love rains down on me.

  Love

  and love

  and love

  and Trey

  are all I see.

  In the Name of Love

  I can’t explain it.

  I think Trey

  and feel as if

  I’ve swallowed warm honey

  and a spoonful of sun.

  I’m not that pretty,

  still I’m the one

  he wants.

  Don’t ask me why.

  I only know

  it makes me happy.

  And isn’t that what love is?

  And isn’t love what God is?

  So how can wanting more of this

  be wrong?

  Am
nesia

  Trey strokes my bare shoulder

  and I shudder as

  once-familiar words burst

  like fireworks in my brain.

  Something Pastor said about

  temptation, and God’s help.

  What was it?

  I start to push away,

  to study the words before

  they fade.

  “you’re sweet as

  a chocolate Sunday,”

  whispers Trey.

  I smile, close my eyes,

  and wait for more.

  Before I know it,

  my eyelids are screens

  flashing the words

  your body is a temple

  of the-

  “Silk wishes it were

  as soft as you,”

  Trey interrupts,

  blowing hotly in my ear.

  And after that, I swear

  I don’t remember

  much of anything.

  Trey’s Place

  Oh, God, oh, God! His hands

  mapping every inch of me,

  journeying where they shouldn’t be

  but, ooooh!

  Lord, I know you’ll understand.

  you made my skin, Trey’s hand.

  I never knew it could feel so-

  What’s he doing?

  Mmmm . He’s tracing my name

  across my belly,

  Mister, each letter

  wet from his tongue.

  God, I’m sorry but

  I can’t stop,

  don’t want to-

  Oh God, oh God, Oh

  God will forgive me,

  right?

  Right?

  Later

  He sleeps, guiltless.

  I slink out of bed,

  slither into wrinkled shirt and jeans,

  pretend I’m a shadow

  creeping across the floor,