Stay alert—lively—alive & unfettered.
Full on it all. Say yes when it matters.
Be dragonfish. Set all the fires.
Be all the woman they warned you against being.
Be her anyway.
She laughs and pulls me into a hug.
“What?” I ask, pulling away.
“I love your mind, Chelsea Spencer. I’m excited we get one more year in high school together.”
“Me too. Just give me one more second,” I say, grabbing a stack of beauty magazines from my nightstand. “These are for poetry research. I have a ton of new ideas for my club this afternoon, and I want to share them with my crew.” I leaf through a copy, pausing at an article about keeping your hot bikini body through the holiday season, before stuffing them into my bag. “I mean, I just feel like our club needs to get more focused and serious. What’s the point of writing if we have nothing important to say, right?”
I grab my phone to call Jasmine.
“Hey,” Jasmine says, “are you already at school?”
“No, I’m still home. Mini fashion crisis. Don’t judge me. Are you excited?” I ask.
“Yes,” Jasmine says. “We have so much to catch up on.”
“It has been too long since I’ve seen you! I can’t wait to share my new poems and this essay I’ve been working on. And I have a new piece you’ll love. We are gonna totally shut down the patriarchal systems of oppression this year!” I can see Mia rolling her eyes and pushing me to get it together.
“You’re out of your mind,” Jasmine says, “and I love it. See you soon.”
We head to school, stopping to get Mia a bacon, egg, and cheese at the bodega, and run into Isaac on the corner of 181st Street and Wadsworth. He’s coming out of Esmerelda’s Bakery with a bag of doughnuts, and he looks super laid back, as always, wearing one of his signature worn superhero shirts. He’s the brainiest guy I know and is built like he could be a linebacker, even though he hates sports. He once told me that football is built on violence and racism, and it is corrupting and exploiting kids in low-income neighborhoods.
“Cool shirt, Chelsea,” he says, giving me a quick hug. “Doughnut?”
I shake my head no, while Mia reaches her hand in the bag. She is always hungry.
“Nothing for you?” Isaac asks.
“I’m too nervous, and I kinda feel sick to my stomach,” I say as we get closer to the school. I wipe some of the blush off my face. “Do I look like a clown?”
“Are you serious?” Mia asks. “You look fine, Chelsea. Stop freaking out. Just be normal.”
“I don’t even know what that is,” I say. “And I don’t know why I’m so nervous either. It’s not a big deal. It’s just junior year. It’s just . . . I guess I just want to make this year matter, and I’m not totally sure how, but it’s fine. It’s all gonna work out, right?” I ask, reaching my hand in the bag to grab a chocolate-covered doughnut, figuring a little sugar would probably make things better.
“Well, I mean, it’s kind of a big deal,” Isaac says, pulling out a doughnut and eating it in two bites. “I mean, here’s the thing, Chelsea—this is our time. We gotta make the most of our junior year. This is what colleges are looking at, and this is the time we make our mark as artists. We have work to do, I mean serious work to do, so yeah, I get why you might be nervous.”
“He’s right,” Mia says as we get to the front of the school. “That’s what everyone looks at for college, so it’s true, junior year is when it all really matters.” Mia smiles at me and gives me a quick hug before she runs off to join her teammates, who are standing in a huddle on the corner.
“Great,” I say out loud, to no one in particular. “I’m glad this is a huge deal and I have a ton to worry about, and that I’m wearing way too much blush and that I definitely wore the wrong outfit.” I survey the crowd. Most of the girls are in sundresses and leggings. “Am I the only one who chose a quirky, cool, liberal shirt to kick off the year?”
“Yes,” Isaac says, scanning the crowd, “and that’s why we love you. Hey, give this to Jasmine when you see her, okay?” he says, handing me the bag of doughnuts and turning to walk into school.
“You got her a doughnut?” I ask.
“I got everyone doughnuts.”
“You love her,” I say, swatting him on the arm. “You totally love her.”
“I totally hate you,” he says, smiling.
If I had a superpower it would be to make myself invisible.
Not so I could eavesdrop on people’s conversations to see if they were talking about me—although that would be pretty cool. I would use it only in moments when being seen causes me to feel like nothing. Like right now. Everywhere I turn, I am reminded that something is wrong with me. Today, it’s the posters plastered on the dingy tile walls of the subway station at 135th and St. Nicholas. I’m heading uptown from Harlem to get to school, and this is not what I want to see first thing in the morning.
DID YOU KNOW?
Overweight children may not outlive their parents.
DID YOU KNOW?
BIG kids become BIGGER adults.
DID YOU KNOW?
It’s not about being big boned.
It’s about eating big meals.
FIGHT THE WAR AGAINST CHILDHOOD OBESITY.
War?
America is at war with me?
I try not to look at the posters, but it’s hard not to, since the print is so big and the chubby kids in the pictures look so sad and helpless.
I walk down the platform so I can get on at the last car. It’s usually less full, so hopefully I’ll get a seat. It feels good to be out of the house actually going somewhere other than the store for Mom, the pharmacy for Dad, or the park with Jason.
All of August was spent running errands and watching Jason after his summer camp ended. Now that Dad is sick, Mom has me on the tightest leash possible. That whole Brown Art Challenge excursion didn’t even happen—not for me anyway. Every time I made a plan to meet up with Chelsea, Nadine, and Isaac, an emergency would happen with Dad or Mom would need me to watch Jason. I couldn’t even stay at the summer drama camp the whole time. After all the auditions and fund-raising I did, I had to leave after only the second day because Dad was admitted to the hospital. But now with school starting, my time will be my time and I can get back to acting. I’m in the August Wilson Acting Ensemble, a social justice theater club at Amsterdam Heights. We’re known all over the city for being one of the best theater ensembles for teens, and we put plays on every year, inviting the whole community. We fill the auditorium every time. We even travel sometimes and get to take special workshops with Broadway actors.
At Amsterdam Heights High School, all students have to join a social justice club. Clubs meet after school, and it’s my favorite part of the day. I could have chosen Animal Rights, Environmental Justice, the LGBTQIA+ Club, or the We Are What We Eat Food Justice Club. Our school is all about social justice and equity, so our clubs all have to have some kind of social consciousness to them. But even at a place like Amsterdam Heights, as a black girl who isn’t a size 4, I stand out. Maybe that’s why I chose theater club. I like experimenting with my voice, changing my look. It’s kind of freeing, being someone else.