Chapter 2. Juniper
Juniper
SONG OF THE DAY:
“When You Wish Upon a Star” by Little Anthony & the Imperials
Snowflakes fall onto my closed eyelids
and melt the most holy of baptisms.
I am sparkling and warm
in this church of snow and light
as I stand under the Capitol Christmas tree
wedged between Mama Alice and Mom.
All my favorite things are here:
the scent of frozen earth
of pine and cedar
the tangle of light flung
onto the snow like stars
the darkness ringing with cheery song
and my moms back together again
after a year of tumult and separation
resolved to make their marriage work.
And this tree—it’s not the biggest or the brightest—
it’s not like the ones that tower and bend toward me
like protective ancestors when I hike a new trail.
It’s not as flashy or grand as the one in downtown Chicago
where we used to live, but it is giving off an
anything-can-happen-if-you-just-believe-in-it
kind of shine.
And we live here now, in Lansing
with its small-town, cozy vibes
Mom with her new faculty position at Michigan State
Mama Alice with her very own art studio
in the sunniest corner of our slightly lopsided
robin’s-egg-blue house
Me in my senior year of high school the promise of
graduation and new adventure
like a river rushing through my days.
And this season my favorite season
is a place for all of us to begin again
to make new tracks in fresh snow.
Oh my stars, would you look at that,
Mama Alice says in her sweet-scratchy Kentucky drawl
as she tucks a stray blond hair back into her beanie
her freckles dancing on her cheeks as she smiles.
That’s just picture-perfect if you ask me.
Mom nods in agreement, her thick locs littered with snow
as she kisses us each on the cheek
and then pulls out
a thermos of hot chocolate from her bag
for us to all pass around.
I’m taking a pepperminty sip
savoring the warmth traveling into my belly
when I feel a persistent tap on my shoulder.
Hey, you’re in my grade. The new kid?
June, right?
I break away from Moms
turn to face the voice.
It’s Juniper, I say, before I
grasp who I’m speaking with.
Right, sorry. Juniper. Well, I’m Lyric.
I think we have English together.
I need a favor.
Would you mind helping me for a minute?
I know who she is.
How could I forget a girl
named after singing itself?
Lyric Watkins.
Only one of the most beautiful
people at my new school.
She’s never once even acknowledged
that I existed until now.
I can’t keep my eyes off of her.
Junie, honey, Mom says,
calling me by my dreaded nickname.
Mama Alice and I are gonna walk around.
Come find us when you’re done?
I feel the tips of my ears heating
knowing they’ll have just about
a million questions for me after this.
Great! Thanks for letting me steal her,
Lyric says before I can respond.
Then she pulls me by my mittened hands
toward the opposite side of the tree.
OK, Lyric continues breathlessly.
Thanks for this.
It should just take a few minutes.
You good?
We actually have
two other classes together,
I blurt out.
Lyric raises an eyebrow
as she checks her face in a compact.
We do?
Chemistry and fifth-period study hall.
Right! Yeah, sorry. It’s been a long day.
Brain fart I guess. I’ve got a lot going on.
No worries, I say.
What do you need my help with?
I’m trying to promote these lashes
on BeautyStarz,
Lyric starts, batting her eyes at me dramatically.
Uh-huh, I manage.
As if I could miss
the luscious lashes
framing her
almond-brown eyes.
Lyric looks like she stepped out of Teen Vogue
or something, and I—
I look like
a walking Eddie Bauer ad
in a maroon puffer coat
a pair of black fleece-lined joggers
snow boots and a matching
knitted hat-mittens-scarf situation.
The solo shots I’ve been taking
are not reading the way I want to,
Lyric continues, gesturing to a whole
influencer setup nearby.
I think the shot would be better
if there was more “romance”
or whatever in it.
She says romance as if
it’s a bad word using air quotes.
OK, so—where do I fit in?
And what is BeautyStarz?
Lyric laughs. Right, sorry.
You don’t strike me as a BeautyStarz user.
It’s basically a social media platform—
but for the beauty community.
The beauty community?
I am truly lost.
My beauty routine consists of face wash, moisturizer
and lip balm.
Yeah—makeup artists, content creators, and
other beauty enthusiasts, she continues.
Anyway, I create content on BeautyStarz—
I’ve got a following of about 20K and growing
and sometimes brands pay me to promote their products.
Like these lashes for example.
I nod slowly
OK …
Lyric sighs. Look, with your consent
I’d like to get some shots of us together—
as if you’re my date. I want you to pose with me
like this is the best damn tree
we’ve ever seen and isn’t it all lovely
and magical and shit to be
“in love.”
Trust. It’s going to be a great shot.
There she goes again
using air quotes.
Um … I’m not sure
I’m the right person for this …
You look adorable in that hat and scarf set.
And your skin is glowing—seriously
I need your skin-care deets after this.
And look, we’re coordinated—it’s gonna look
so festive and on brand. Just humor me, OK?
You think I’m adorable? I say out loud.
There go my ears again, flushing with heat.
I do, Lyric confirms
and that’s all it takes.
In an instant
I’m in front of Lyric’s ring light
and tripod.
Lyric wraps her arms around my waist
and then tilts her face down at me ever so slightly
so that I can feel her breath on my cheek.
I’m just a little shorter than her
so when she tells me to turn my head up
to look her in the eyes
our lips are so close they almost touch.
Like this? I whisper
hoping she can’t feel my heart
knocking around my chest
through the layers of our coats.
Yes. Now
just give me a little smile.
I obey.
I hear the sound of the camera shutter
as Lyric clicks a remote.
The snow begins to fall harder
around us.
I forget for just a moment
that I am not in fact
starring in my own
real-life holiday romance.
That despite my crush
since the first day of senior year
Lyric Watkins does not in fact like me
that way.
This is strictly business, she says
commanding me to move slightly this way
and that in her arms.
But damn, these shots are fire.
We look good.
Right,
I repeat in my mind.
Strictly business.