Everything It Takes
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Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Van, Sandi.
Title: Everything it takes / Sandi Van.
Description: New York : West 44, 2022.
Identifiers: ISBN 9781978595545 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781978595668 (library bound) | ISBN 9781978595569 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Poetry, American--21st century. | English poetry. | Young adult poetry, American. | Poetry, Modern--21st century. Classification: LCC PS586.3 E947 2022 | DDC 811’.60809282--dc23
First Edition
Published in 2022 by
Enslow Publishing LLC
29 East 21st Street
New York, NY 10010
Copyright © 2022 Enslow Publishing LLC
Editor: Caitie McAneney
Designer: Tanya Dellaccio
Interior Layout: Rachel Rising
Photo Credits: pp. 2-19, 22, 27-30, 34-36, 38-41, 43, 44, 46, 47, 49, 51, 54, 56, 57, 59, 60, 62, 63, 65, 67, 69, 70, 72, 74, 76, 78, 80, 83, 85, 87, 88, 90, 92-99, 102-106, 108, 110, 112, 113, 115-118, 120-125, 127, 128, 132, 133, 135-139, 141, 143, 144, 146, 148, 150-156, 158, 160-162, 164-166, 168, 170, 173-176, 178-184 ARENA Creative/Shutterstock.com.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer.
Printed in the United States of America
CPSIA compliance information: Batch #CS22W44: For further information contact Enslow Publishing LLC, New York, New York at 1-800-398-2504.
This book is dedicated to my son John, who
appreciates trees nearly as much as I do, and
to all the eco-warriors out there.
Don't give up. The planet needs you.
MY CALLING
The loudspeaker calls us down:
All juniors and seniors
report to the cafeteria
for the college fair.
We follow
like cattle.
Mooing in groups
large and small.
Chewing gum
and checking phones.
Not me.
I’m ready for this.
Questions neatly written
on the last page
of my English notebook.
I’m ready
to leave this town
in my dust.
MY TOWN
feels like a leash
pulled tight.
Whenever
I try
to wander.
TOO SMART FOR MY PANTS
Mom tells me
my brain is too big
for my britches.
Which is an
odd way
of saying
I’m too smart
for my pants.
Mom rolled her eyes
at my response,
when I told her:
it’s breeches,
not britches.
In the original saying
anyway.
I looked it up.
See?
I’m too smart
for this town.
WORDS MAÏÏER
I’m going to study history
and English.
And then:
Law School.
Someday,
I will get paid
to argue.
A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME
I hate my name.
Lily.
It means:
pure
innocent
beauty
My parents
must have
thought
I looked
like
a flower.
My older sister says
I looked like
a monkey.
They should have named me
Vervet.
After the Vervet Monkey.
But they chose Lily.
And I hate it.
NAMES
I wrote about names
for my college essay.
How they shape us.
How they shape what people
expect from us.
I wrote the essay
in poem form.
Because if you want
to get into college
you need to
STAND
OUT.
THE FIRST STEP
The first step
to taking my
dumb
flower
name
and going to
Law School
is getting
into
College.
SO HERE I AM
with the other cattle.
A slow-moving herd
on our way to
the cafeteria.
A group of seniors
in front of me
make bets
on how many pens
they’ll collect.
I fear
for
their
futures.
BUT NOT MINE
I’m prepared
with my questions.
I’m prepared
with the list of schools
where I can double major
in history
and English.
Schools
far
far
away
from here.
WHAT I’M NOT PREPARED FOR
Every recruiter I talk to
answers my questions.
Fills in the blanks.
Asks a few of their own.
Major?
Check.
Far away?
Check.
Required GPA?
Got it.
SAT scores?
You know I rocked them.
Great, that’s great,
they all say.
And how about
extracurricular activities?
…
…
…
JUNIOR YEAR IS SUPPOSED TO BE ABOUT GRADES, NOT CLUBS
I’ve taken all the right classes.
My grades are good.
Because I spend
my time
studying.
Not trying to
save the world
or make new friends.
Sure, I tried a few clubs—
debate
Spanish
newspaper.
And I’m sure I could
write them down
on the application.
But then,
the recruiters said
there will be an interview.
Where you talk about
your GOALS.
And how your time
in HIGH SCHOOL
helped you figure out
who you want to BE.
ME?
I figured out
who I wanted
to BE
by watching episodes
of Law and Order
with my mom.
FAMILY
It’s just the three of us:
me
Mom
Faith.
When my older sister was born,
Mom had a lot
of faith.
She believed
everything would work out
perfectly—
husband
dream job
beautiful house
kid
and then another (me).
The perfect holiday card.
UNTIL
Dad struck it rich
r /> with one of his many
business ventures.
Mom lost her job.
Dad met someone new.
Mom lost in court.
And we had to move
out of the beautiful house
and into this tiny apartment.
How’s that for
law and order?
WORDS HAVE DOUBLE MEANINGS
We need to have faith,
Mom would say.
And I’d look at my sister
and wonder.
Was she planning to leave us,
the way Dad did?
That’s the thing
about words.
We need to have
FAITH.
As in:
Don’t give up.
Follow your dreams.
Believe they will come true.
And if life
pulls out the rug
from under your feet,
dig your toes
firmly
into
the ground.
LOSS OF FAITH
Eventually
Faith did leave.
But not because
she found a family
she liked better than ours.
(The way Dad did.)
She left to become a dancer
in Las Vegas.
(She had to change her name.)
We saw a video
of her show.
(She looked happy.)
Mom said,
Well, that’s life for ya.
Which is
the same thing she said
when Dad left
when she lost her job
when we had
to leave our house.
(Well, that’s life.)
NOT ME
I refuse to allow life
to walk all over me
like an animal
pacing their cage in the zoo.
Life is not something you
let happen.
It is something you grab
with both hands
and steer in the direction
you want to go.
THE NEXT DAY
I watch the
morning announcements
closely
for the first time
ever.
Some girl with a high ponytail
and a guy trying too hard
to grow facial hair
report on meaningless school news.
But then…
Anyone interested
in saving the planet,
the girl says,
should come to room B219 after school.
A logo flashes
on the screen.
“Green for Good”
it reads.
I have no interest
in saving the planet.
But I do need a club to join,
and the logo is drawn pretty well.
Okay, I think.
I’ll give it a try.
Famous last words.
YOU CAN LEAD A HORSE TO WATER, BUT YOU CAN’T MAKE IT DRINK
I text Mom.
Tell her I’m staying late.
Wander down the B wing
like a lost dog.
No.
A rejected dog.
The one left behind
at the pound.
Because clubs and I
don’t exactly stick.
Spanish club:
Politely asked
not to return.
I kind of set the
Homecoming float
on fire.
They probably
shouldn't have
put me in charge
of the sparklers.
Newspaper Staff:
Question: How hard could it be
to report on the school news?
Answer: When you refuse
to do a piece
ranking soda flavors
in the vending machine—
hard.
Debate Club:
A club about arguing!
A club full of kids
destined for law school!
It should have been
my jam.
But I had trouble
following the rules.
And when I kept
getting disqualified,
they kicked me out.
I picture my college interview:
And tell us, Lily,
about your nonacademic
experiences.
Followed by a blank stare.
I need a win.
I need the environmental club
to work—
no matter what.
So,
I pull my shoulders back.
Smile.
Walk
through
the door
of room 219.
GREEN FOR GOOD
There are five people in the room.
I wonder how they plan
to save the planet
with such limited resources.
Shush it, Lily.
No one wants a grumpy
club reject.
Five faces look up at me
when I enter.
Ten eyes stare at me
like I’m an alien.
I want to say, I’m not an alien.
Just a girl who needs to pad
her college application.
Instead I say,
Hello,
my name is Lily.
I’m here to, um, save the Earth.
It comes off like a question.
I hear someone laugh-snort.
A girl. Dark hair.
Small braids on one side
around her ear.
Well you’re in the right place,
she says.
I’m Fiona.
She raises her eyebrows at the group
and they say their names in turn:
Fern
Max
Cooper
Jewel
You new here? asks Fern,
a girl with glasses and
red hair in two long braids.
Yeah, never seen ya around,
adds Max.
Maybe I spend too much time
in the library.
No, I say. I’m a junior.
Ah, says Fiona.
She makes the laugh-snort sound again.
A junior, huh?
Here to beef up the ol’
college applications?
Her words are sharp.
I consider walking out.
Finding a different club—
something a bit less
judgy.
But I don’t exactly have
other choices.
I need this.
SO… I STAY
Don’t look so shocked, College Girl,
Fiona says.
We’ve seen your type before.
She stares at me.
Her eyes are dark brown,
almost black.
I hold her gaze
as long as I can
and then look down
at the floor.
Let me guess.
Student council dropout?
I shake my head.
No matter.
We’re not picky.
We’ll take ya.
We need all the manpower—
Person power, Cooper corrects.
Fiona stops.
Grins.
Continues.
Person power we can get.
Here at Green for Good,
we like to get things done.
And extra accomplices
are always welcome.
Fiona winks
at the other group members
who laugh and nod.
I suddenly feel nervous
but also
strangely excited.
So, College Gir
l, Fiona says.
Lily, I say.
Right.
College Girl—
are you in?
ARE YOU IN?
Never have three words
made me feel so excited
and scared half to death.
WANTED: CRAZY GIRL
Their eyes wait.
Am I in for what?
I ask, innocently.
You planning to blow up
a fracking site?
Fern giggles.
Why? You good with explosives?
asks Max.
He grins.
Runs fingers through his
spiky black hair.
Explosives? I—uh—
Don’t sweat, College Girl, says Fiona.
He’s kidding.
LEADERSHIP
What exactly
are you planning? I ask.
And don’t you guys have an advisor
or something?
Cooper points
at a young teacher
in the far corner,
her nose in a book.
Technically, it’s Mix Martin.
Mix? I ask.
We prefer not to assign
outdated gender prefixes.
Mix Martin is new and
lets us do our own thing.
More or less.
Oh.
More
or
less.
FACT VS. FICTION
Look, Fiona says,
we know the rumors
about what we do here.
People say we’re
tree-hugging troublemakers,
right?
Did we make a lot of people angry
when we protested the
Memorial Day
balloon launch
last spring?
Yes.
Did we almost get arrested for,
what was it again?
She turns to Fern.
Disturbing the peace, Fern says.
Right, disturbing the peace.
No.
The police gave us a warning,
Fern says.
And we’re not allowed
in the party store
anymore.
The party store? I ask.
Cooper explains:
We rented all their
helium tanks.
So the town couldn’t.
And we shouted,
BALLOONS KILL WILDLIFE!
during the parade, Max adds.
Fiona smiles,
proud of her team.
And we have never chained ourselves