Bulimics Go to the Gas Station

by Chloe Cook
It’s Sunday, which means instead of eating in the cafeteria, one unlucky counselor (sorry, Jamie) must lead our small recovery circus to an undisclosed location for food.

Don’t Let Them See You

by Anonymous
I will soon be pitching a debut novel, and I want to know how much of an issue my age will be to agents and publishers.

Distance

by Treena Thibodeau
A week before the party, I text my newfound brother and sister about social distancing. The wording has to be right; I don’t want to sound uptight.

After That, Try This:

by Christiana Louisa Langenberg
Stare at your reflection in the storefront window. She looks familiar, you think.

Towel Racks

by Wilson MacConnachie
And then I was buying gas station beers and cigarettes, because for some reason I wasn’t supposed to show up to rehab sober.

Thank You, Girls!

by Dvora Wolff Rabino
I’m culling needless items from kitchen, baths, and linen closets. I’m curating friendships. Now it’s your turn to go.

My Stepmother, Myself

by Abi Stephenson
She didn’t have to love me. Biology didn’t force her hand the way it does for mothers.

Playground Doctrine

by Myna Chang
In the grit of a 1975 farm town, 9-year-old girls weigh about 60 pounds, even wicked little girls with bad women for mommas.