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SVJ's Most Read Work of 2020 pt.2.png

SVJ’s Most Read Work of 2020: Part 2 of 2

January 1, 2021

None of My Childhood Heroes Prepared Me for This by Marissa Glover

 

An Interview with Katherine Ramsland

 

The Nautilus of Robert Lowell’s “Skunk Hour” by Scott Edward Anderson

 

500 Words on the Bare Minimum by F. Scott Arkansas

 

Candide: Make Sure You Know What You Want by Greg Coleman

 

When I Think About My Mother by C. Cimmone

 

Interwoven Foliage by Susan Triemert

 

When You’re The Homecoming Queen’s Best Friend by Candace Hartsuyker

 

Ikea and its Muses by Margaret Thorell

 

THE MIDWIFE by Bill Whitten

 

Miracles: rare, fine, and everyday by Rob Kaniuk

 

Tags None of My Childhood Heroes Prepared Me for This, Marissa Glover, An interview with Katherine Ramsland, Mark Danowsky, Katherine Ramsland, The Nautilus of Robert Lowell's Skunk Hour, Scott Edward Anderson, Robert Lowell, 500 words, 500 Words on the Bare Minimum, F Scott Arkansas, Candide, Greg Coleman, When I Think About My Mother, my mother, mother, mom, C Cimmone, Interwoven Foliage, Susan Triemert, When You’re The Homecoming Queen’s Best Friend, Homecoming, homecoming queen, Candace Hartsuyker, Ikea, IKEA and its Muses, Margaret Thorell, Thorell, The Midwife, Bill Whitten, miracles, Miracles rare fine everyday, Rob Kaniuk, most read, best of, 2020
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When You’re The Homecoming Queen’s Best Friend by Candace Hartsuyker

August 18, 2020

You’ll grow up white trash in a tin can trailer, surrounded by beer bottles and dogs with torn ears and starving eyes. All the other girls in your neighborhood will complain about their swollen ankles and pregnant bellies and twist cords of Sour Patch Punch Straws in their mouths, suck granules of sugar from their fingers.

You’ll wish you could see your name in the yearbook, bright as a string of Christmas lights. Instead, you’ll be on the float like a servant, holding the homecoming queen’s dress so it doesn’t get dirty. Everyone will see that you’re not a princess or a duchess; you’re just the homecoming queen’s best friend.

On the float, the homecoming queen will beam, pearly teeth shining, wrist flicking in a princess wave, plastic tiara like a wreath of stars on her head. You’ll stand to the side, ready to grab her in case she loses her balance on the rotating float. You’ll feel like furniture, like a dusty ottoman shoved in a corner unnoticed.

You’ll think about how you’re the one who let the homecoming queen copy your homework so she wouldn’t fail biology class. And that’s when you’ll shove the homecoming queen, watch as she falls to the blacktop below. No one will notice that you pushed the homecoming queen; they’ll only notice that she fell.

When the school nurse arrives, no one will notice the missing tiara, plucked from the homecoming queen’s head. They’ll be too busy comforting the homecoming queen who will be sopping her tears up with the hem of her ballgown dress.

Safe at home, you’ll take the scratched, plastic tiara from out of your purse and try it on, smile like a stretched-out rubber band.  You’ll keep smiling, even as mascara and blush run in a slurry down your face, mouth sludgy as an open wound. And you’ll say to yourself: everything’s okay now. You got what you wanted. You’re not just some girl. You’re somebody.

Candace Hartsuyker has an M.F.A in Creative Writing from McNeese State University and reads for PANK. She has been published in Cotton Xenomorph, Heavy Feather Review, The Hunger and elsewhere. You can find her on Twitter at C_Hartsuyker.

Tags Candace Hartsuyker, When You’re The Homecoming Queen’s Best Friend
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