Sonya Sones
home  •  my books  •  bio  •  what’s new?  •  events  •  banned books  •  visits  •  faqs  • contact
for writers  •  office tour  •  what I'm reading  •  great novels  •  novels in verse  •  photos  •  buy
Sonya Sones What My Mother Doesn't Know To Be Perfectly Honest Facebook Sonya Sones Twitter Sonya Sones Sonya Sones Pinterest Instagram Sonya Sones Tumblr page
Some Poems from What My Girlfriend Doesn’t Know
What's this book about?
Right
in front
of everyone—
sending supersonic shockwaves all through me.
And we just sit here,
grinning at each other like Muppets,
knees pressed together under the table,
eyes locked.
Until the bell rings.
“Check, please,” I call,
snapping my fingers at an imaginary waiter.
This makes Sophie laugh.
And the sound of that laugh,
and knowing that I’m the one who made it happen,
makes me feel sort of all-powerful,
indestructible,
immortal, even.
 
So What Happens Now
I’ll tell you what happens.
Rachel and Grace creep toward us,
clutching each other’s arms
like they’re approaching an open coffin—
Grace’s eyes bigger than DVDs,
Rachel’s mouth hanging open so wide
you could reach right in and perform a tonsillectomy.
“Fee,” Grace hisses
through teeth clenched tighter than lockjaw,
what are you doing?”
When Sophie looks up at them,
her smile disappears,
and suddenly I feel like a man overboard.
Like
if she lets go of my fingers,
I’ll drown.
But She Just Squeezes Them Even Tighter
While her eyes
dart back and forth
between her friends and me
like a pair of crazed hummingbirds.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
she finally says.
“It looks like you’re going psycho on us,”
Rachel says, with a nervous giggle.
“Well, she’s not,” I hear myself say
in this surprisingly friendly voice.
“Sophie’s totally sane …
and totally amazing.
At which point,
that brilliant smile of hers
blazes back on like a torch,
and I can feel my heart catching fire.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Sophie says, all nonchalant.
“I guess I forgot to introduce you guys.
Rachel,
Grace—
I’d like you to meet Robin.”
Robin?!
They gasp in unison.
“But … but …” Grace sputters,
“this … this is Murphy!”
“Robin Murphy,” I say,
holding out my hand for her to shake.
“Any friend of Sophie’s is a friend of mine.
But she backs away from me
like I have leprosy or something,
pulling Rachel right along with her.
Rachel manages a shell-shocked smile
and mumbles, “Uh … nice meeting you.”
Then both of them turn and bolt from the cafeteria.
Sophie and I
just sit here in silence,
watching them go.
Then she says, “Well.
I’m glad that’s over with.”
But she doesn’t look too glad to me.
Holding hands
Sonya Sones' books
Copyright 2004-. Sonya Sones. All rights reserved.
To Be Perfectly Honest Stop Pretending What My Mother Doesn't Know What My Girlfriend Doesn't Know One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies The Hunchback of Neiman-Marcus Necessary Noise Sixteen Sonya Sones Collection Saving Red