Max Howard - Surviving American History

Please visit our website, www.west44books.com.For a free color catalog of all our high-quality books, call toll free 1-800-398-2504.Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Howard, Max. Title: Surviving American history / Max Howard. Description: New York : West 44, 2022. Identifiers: ISBN 9781978595484 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781978595644 (library bound) | ISBN 9781978595507 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Poetry, American--21st century. | English poetry. | Poetry, Modern--21st century. | Poetry, Modern--21st century.

Classification: LCC PS586.3 S875 2022 | DDC 811.60809282--dc23 First Edition Published in 2022 by Enslow Publishing LLC 29 East 21st Street New York, NY 10010 Copyright 2022 Enslow Publishing LLC Editor: Caitie McAneney Designer: Tanya Dellaccio Interior Layout: Rachel Rising Photo Credits: Cover, pp.. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer. Printed in the United States of America CPSIA compliance information: Batch #CS22W44: For further information contact Enslow Publishing LLC, New York, New York at 1-800-398-2504. GOODBYE, GODEY HIGH The halls are empty. Everyones in class.

Moms waiting for me outside in the U-Haul truck. Goodbye, STRIVE FOR EXCELLENCE banner. Adios, Growth Mindset poster. Farewell, 10 a.m. aroma of fresh French fries. Namaste. Namaste.

NAMASTE Its third period. Avas in Broadcast Media. She wants to be a radio reporter. Im supposed to be in American history. Instead Im moving to Maine. I open Avas locker.

Put on her lemon lotion. Now I smell like Ava. I take a last look at her locker. Its super tidy. Except for the mirror. Shes lipsticked the word Namaste on the glass.

THE GLASS Behind the lipsticked letters I see my face. Its a mess from crying. Namaste. Ava and I learned the word two years ago, during our first yoga class. It means: The light in mebows to the light in you. Now I dont just study yoga. Im a certified teacher, too. At the end of my teen yoga class, we all say Namaste.

Its a good way to end things. A GOOD WAY TO END THINGS Leaving, I pass Ms. Lins room. American history. Im supposed to be in there. Ms. Ms.

Lin is Avas mom. Her home voice is fluttery. Her school voice is firm. Shes talking about the Civil War: guns and dead bodies. Some of the soldiers were your age, she says, her firm voice cracking. Ms. Ms.

Lin previewed it at home while she cracked eggs into brownie mix. This video is only showing dead white kids. What about Black soldiers who fought? Ava said. Wasnt slavery what the war was all about? She stuck her finger in the batter, licked. Ava, you have a point. But next time, use a spoon, Ms.

Lin scolded. She poured batter into a pan. Gabi. Youre the guest. Would you like to lick the bowl? THE BOWL Mom turns into the strip mall parking lot, passes Friendly Fro-Yo, passes Godey Gun Shop, parks in front of Bliss Yoga. OK, honey.

Take a last look while I text Jason. Thats her new boyfriend. Hes hypnotized her. Thats why were moving. Mom set Jasons text tone to Meditation Bowl. I hate the sound.

The bowl tone wrecked my life. I look at my old studio. MY OLD STUDIO Long yellow curtains glow in the glass doors. When I own my own studio, Ill have yellow curtains too. Who knows what kind of curtains they have in Maine? Theres a studio in our new town, but the website is just a picture of the stupid ocean. I take a deep breath.

Count to four. Exhale six counts of hot CO2. Its calming. No matter where I go, I take my breath with me. Thats yoga. THATS YOGA Ava and I wore the same size until sixth grade.

Then my body started turning into my moms body: short and round. At first, I crashed into walls, not knowing my new size. I wanted to look like my dads mom from Mexico, who is slim and small. Instead I looked like a German dumpling: fluffy, chubby, thick. Words circling a stigma. I didnt feel fat.

I felt shame. And then I walked through those yellow curtains. YELLOW CURTAINS Walk through the yellow curtains and into Bliss Yoga. Smell oranges. Hear chimes. See people posing like animals.

Old people doing puppy pose. Young people doing cat-cow. Fat people doing crow. Skinny people doing frog. At the end, everyone lies down. Basks like lions in the sun.

LIONS IN THE SUN Yoga helps me learn to love my animal body. Im learning to love my human heart, too. Im learning to be the basking lion and the shining sun. THE SHINING SUN Cornfields flash by at 55 miles per hour. The sunlit husks gleam, gold and dead. Were moving to Maine, leaving Dad behind, and Ava, and everyone all because of Moms high school boyfriend.

MOMS HIGH SCHOOL BOYFRIEND Ava does a great radio reporter voice. We used to sit in the cafeteria and she did the news, like: Breaking: Kaleb Kostyak has just rubbedCheeto powderall over his pants. Or: A new study shows that70% of teachersfart backward. Or: Headline News:Woman, 45, findslove on Facebook,ruins family. I already miss Ava. I look at Mom. She snaps her gum. Gross. I breathe slowly, trying to quiet my mind, when both our phones start blowing up.

BLOWING UP Its Dad. I answer. He says, Thank God then cuts out. I only have two bars out here, I say. The call drops. Moms phone rings.

She yells What? WHAT? into her phone. Then she looks away from the road, messing with the radio. Our truck veers toward the ditch. OUR TRUCK VEERS TOWARD THE DITCH I grab the wheel, straighten us out. Mom barely blinks. Her face looks frozen.

Then I hear it. Avas news reporter voice. It crackles through the trucks radio. This is WQRW,Godey High Radio. We are live.We are alive.But were hearing gunshots. WERE HEARING GUNSHOTS At first we thoughtthey were fireworks, Ava says. She sounds calm.Shell make a good reporter, I think. She sounds calm.Shell make a good reporter, I think.

Then fear slices through my chest. Shell make a good reporterif she makes it out alive. ALIVE. When I hear Avas voice, her breath, I know shes alive. Keep talking, I pray. But were 30 miles from Godey High. Avas voice cuts in and out then static blasts us.

Is she okay? Is she alive? ALIVE? Theres a hill about a mile away, Mom says, we can get better reception at the top. She floors it. The truck lurches. Her blond ponytail flies back. At 90 miles per hour, the truck groans and shakes. I turn up the radio.

Static hisses. Please, please be alive! ALIVE! Mom pulls over at the top of the hill. I twist the radio dial. And there she is Ava! Her voice is calm. Like a reporters. I shudder. I shudder.

I know that sound. Thats fourth period, I say. Fourth period is starting. FOURTH PERIOD IS STARTING But no one at Godey is changing classes. I can picture it. I know the lockdown drills.

Ive hidden behind the teachers desk, my arm pressed against hunky Hunter Jacksons, wondering if this time it was real. THIS TIME IT WAS REAL Avas voice is faint. She says she loves her family. She says she loves her best friend, Gabi. Thats me. THATS ME Thats me, holding my breath.

Drowning every time static swallows Avas voice. At last she says, The police arehere. Were safe.But we dont knowif others are hurt. Her voice cracks. This is WQRW.Were broadcasting fromGodey High,where weStrive for Excellence.Im Ava Lin,signing off. I can breathe again. Mom cranks the wheel. #IOWA As soon as I get signal, I text Ava. I wait. I wait.