Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

Rituals

It's our weekly ritual.

"Jenni?"

"I'm up, Mom."

Silence. There's been a lot of silence between us lately.

And then, "Your sister would like you to come."

The ball's back in my court. I let it stay there, turning onto my side and pulling my blankets over my head.

"Jenni... can I come in?"

"No."

I'm hungry. The clock says it's almost eleven. I want her to go away. She will, I know. I just have to wait.

"I know you don't believe now," she says.

"I wish you would just give it a chance," she says.

"I love you." Her last weapon.

"I know." Just leave me alone.

The silence comes down again, a wall between us far thicker and far more impassable than the door. Why hasn't she opened it yet?

She gives in. "You can come when you're ready."

I have to wait a minute before I hear the footsteps retreat down the hall. A little while later, the car coughs to life. I wait a few minutes longer under the darkness of the covers, feeling my own warm breath reflected back at my face.

Only now do I sit up, wrap the blanket around my shoulders, and cross the room. The door opens easily under my touch.

It's funny how easily it opens when there's no one waiting on the other side.



Join the Discussion


This article has 1 comment. Post your own!

Shahrier said...
Jan. 4 at 6:21 pm:
ill try critiqueing another poem after this, this was good enough that i dont have anything bad to say other than i was confused at "the ball's back in my court" but the confusion soon went away.
 
Reply to this comment Post a new comment
 
Site Feedback