She's Too Pretty to Burn

by Wendy Heard

Doesn’t she feel embarrassed? Doesn’t she have that pressure in her brain telling her everyone is watching, that she needs to get up and act like a human?

I could have kissed her all night, stayed there on that train, past oceans and mountains, never worrying about a destination.

I’m the ghost again, screaming, raging, but no one hears me. I feel like I’m being swallowed up by the nighttime ocean, being sucked down into its pitch-black depths,

“Why are you apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong? That’s something we teach girls to do—always apologize, never be a burden. You have a right to take up space.”

She was the ocean, with its riptides and its soft, clean breeze and its beauty and its chilling, shark-filled depths.

The water is calling my name. Would it matter if I did fall? My mom doesn’t want me. Veronica’s face was full of disgust and disappointment when she closed the locker room door behind her. My swim team friends think I’m some kind of … I can’t let myself remember their faces. The shame it brings is too sharp; it cuts me up on the inside.