Kirsten's Fiction Notebook

  The fields were lined with rows of bright green shoots, corn or soybeans or whatever, just starting to emerge. A sign by the highway said Dubuque, 14 miles —my birthplace, supposedly. I remember passing the same sign when I was eleven and on my way to summer camp. It was my first time away from home, and I was excited about that. I was leaving the boring town of Lost Nation and moving on to bigger, better things. To my kid brain, a city like Dubuque qualified as bigger and better. But the camp turned out to be a disappointment, except for one day, when they loaded us onto a bus pulling a trailer full of bikes. They took us to a trail that had been converted from an old railbed, and they gave each of us a bicycle and a helmet. We rode the gravel trail through pastures and wooded hills, past limestone bluffs. It was exhilarating to zip along under the trees, the wind on my face. I sped up and started passing the other kids. I pulled ahead of everyone, and the counselor called out t...

  Frankie was barreling out of the garage like she always did, but then she checked her rearview and saw me and stopped abruptly, the back end of her car rising and falling, the taillights glowing. She got out, and she was smaller and more bent than I remembered. She approached me tentatively, her head tilted to one side. When she saw me she gasped, and she reached toward me with trembling fingers but then pulled back. “What happened? Never mind, come inside, we’ll get you some ice!” And she turned and rushed toward the house, tripping and almost falling on the steps. The house inside was a wreck, the laundry room full of clothes that smelled of mildew, the kitchen counters covered with dirty dishes and empty cracker boxes. Which was ironic because my whole life, Frankie had made it seem like we were the ones to blame for the messy house. If weren’t for us, the place would be a palace of order and cleanliness. A part of me believed that, and there was always this guilt that went ...

Yukiko dreamt she was searching for Priscilla because she could hear her crying somewhere. A storm was gathering, and in the distance, a sheet of rain stretched from the clouds to the land. It was coming closer, the rain, and she kept thinking, “When is it going to hit? When am I going to get soaked?” Then in the unexplainable way she became aware of her dreams while she was still in them, she thought, “This is a dream, and Priscilla is actually crying somewhere.”  She woke to rain pelting the windows and flashes of lightning illuminating her room. She got up and went to Priscilla, who was splayed out in the dog bed and crying, her head whipping back and forth. Yukiko knelt and touched her. “Priscilla, wake up,” she said. Priscilla opened her eyes, and she seemed confused, as if she were wondering why it was Yukiko, not Sam. But after a moment of hesitation, she fell into Yukiko’s arms, and Yukiko held her until she was asleep again, till her breathing was slower and steadier....

I tripped getting out of the car and landed on my side in the middle of the street. Darius was still in the car, holding my foot on his lap, trying to tie my laces, but he was laughing too hard, and he couldn’t get his hands to work.  “Leave it,” I said.  “No, man. You gonna trip and hurt yourself.” “I already did trip because of you. Let go .” I yanked my leg free and kicked the door closed, and that made them laugh more. And then he and Christoph drove off, both of them laughing. Darius called out, “See you later, man!”  No, I thought. I suddenly had no desire to see him again. I was hurt, and I wanted to be done with them and with wrestling, though I had no idea what I’d do next. Or who my friends would be. All I could think about at that moment, all I wanted, was my bed. A misty rain was falling, fingering my face, and the trees were whispering something I couldn’t make out, and my body was aching. I moved toward the house, intending to slip in through the front door,...

The Sledgehammer was sweating and it was slippery on his shoulders—I thought I would slide off, but then he ducked his head and heaved me onto the canvas. I fell hard, and the impact traveled up my spine and exploded in my head, and for one delicious second, everything went black. But then it all came back—the crowd noise, the thundering music, and the lights flashing above. The Hippo was in the corner of the ring, leaning back with his arms spread on the ropes like he was relaxing in a hot tub. His belly pushed out against his grey suit, and the upper half of his face was covered by a mask meant to resemble a Hippo, though it reminded me more of a teddy bear, with round little ears on top. The Hippo charged Darius, but Darius maneuvered out of his path, grabbed his arm, and whipped him into the ropes and clotheslined him, smacking him down to the floor in one quick drop. Then it was my turn. I pulled myself up and ran at Darius. He grabbed my arm and swung me around in a full circle, ...