Chapter 14. Juniper
Juniper
SONG OF THE DAY:
“Tis the Season” by Big Freedia
After track practice on Tuesday morning
I take the quickest shower on earth
and beeline for Lyric’s locker.
I ran horribly this morning
my muscles tense and wooden
my mind full of all the ways
I am failing these days:
not being able to be honest with my moms
pissing Lyric off again
by repeating some dumb shit
right as we were having a moment
getting closer.
I don’t know why I’m like this.
I texted Lyric about
five apologies yesterday
after she told me off
but no response.
When I walk up to Lyric’s locker
Kiana is already there
one hand holding a coffee carrier
with two steaming cups of joe
and the other hand texting fast.
Kiana doesn’t see me slide up
whoever she is talking to
making her whole face
go soft and full of honey.
I pull out my EarPods
which are blasting “Tis the Season”
Big Freedia trying to hype me up
for the day.
Who is that? Your boo?
I say, waggling my eyebrows.
Kiana’s eyes snap up to meet mine
What? No—she says a little too quickly
rushing to put her phone away.
It’s my friend Holden.
He’s like … like a cousin.
He’s coming to visit me soon.
You’ll meet him at Winter Formal.
Right. Winter Formal,
I say, my mouth going dry.
Hopefully Lyric
still wants to go with me.
I think I messed up.
Kiana studies me for a minute
and then sighs.
Look, is this regarding Jamison?
Maybe …
Lyric texted me last night
all heated about him
and you hanging out or something
how his big mouth is ruining
what you both have going on here.
Oh no. My mouth is a desert now
I try not to panic.
Yeah—I shouldn’t have said anything.
It was dumb.
Look, when it comes to Jamison
and really, anything having to do
with romantic relationships
Lyric can be really private.
I promise you though
she’ll cool off
she always does.
As if on cue
Lyric comes stomping down the hall.
When she spots me and Kiana
her expression flickers
with something like fear
and then quickly hardens
into stoicism.
Even cold and distant like this
Lyric is stunning—wearing
a maxi sweater dress, combat boots
her lips an ombré
of deep eggplant
and fuchsia.
I swallow hard
at the sight of her.
Hey, Queen,
Kiana says
unfazed by Lyric’s mood.
How are we this morning?
Hi, thanks, Lyric says, taking
her coffee from Kiana.
I’m fine. It’s Tuesday.
Hey, uh, good morning,
I manage to get out.
Lyric gives me a short glance
and a quick nod
as she opens her locker
places her coffee on the little shelf inside
and begins to swap out items in her bag.
Okaaay, Kiana says
giving me a small, apologetic smile.
I’ma let you two talk.
See you in first period, Lyric.
Ki, wait! Don’t—
Lyric tries, but Kiana
is already walking away.
Lyric slams her locker shut
and faces me
making eye contact
for the first time.
Look, Lyric,
I start. I know you’re mad.
I’m really sorry
again.
I shouldn’t have said
anything.
Sometimes I forget to filter …
It’s fine. I’m over it,
Lyric cuts me off.
It doesn’t feel
fine …
So, I got another
sponsor request,
Lyric barrels on.
But it’s slightly different
from what we’ve done before.
Different how?
Well, it’s fashion related.
Stella’s—the department store chain—
they want me to do a GRWM
complete with some makeup from their
beauty counters …
That’s a “Get Ready With Me,” right?
I ask.
Yes.
But they also want
us to
wear fits from their
teen formal collection.
It’s some new line
that is gender inclusive.
They’ve got a bunch of pieces
that can be mixed and matched
and worn by anyone.
That’s cool.
It is. And we’re the perfect
poster couple to help them launch it,
Lyric continues.
So, we need to meet at the mall
on Saturday
pick out our pieces
—totally paid for by Stella’s—
and then get some good shots
of us at Winter Formal
wearing them.
It’s another 1K that we can split.
Lyric goes quiet, finally
and stares expectantly
with an eyebrow raised.
So—noon on Saturday
can you be there?
We’ll have to keep it
quick and cute
because I have to
be at work by two.
But we should be able
to find our outfits if we focus.
This businesslike briskness
is not the way
I’d imagined coordinating
my first dance at Lansing High
but it is what it is.
And while I can tell
Lyric is still holding me
at arm’s length
maybe just maybe
we can get back to
where we almost were
after the teahouse
with a little more time.
Yeah, I’m in,
I say.
Noon. Saturday.
The mall. Stella’s.
I’ll be there.
Great. See you then.
I’ll text if anything else
comes up on BeautyStarz
in the meantime.
And with that, Lyric
turns on her heel
and disappears
into a sea of students.
Goodbye to you too,
I mutter, heading to class.
You ever just sit and listen to an iced-over lake?
I did that a lot last year, when things were really bad at home.
When the bitter cold outside was no match for the icy glances and terse exchanges between Mom and Mama Alice.
When it seemed they only talked to each other to check in about bills, or my schedule, or what to pick up later from the grocery store.
It got so bad one November afternoon that I’d bundled up after school and braved the windchill to walk the lakeshore and sit for as long as I could manage, just watching the ice move on top of the water, listening for the shuffle and soft lapping of movement below.
This was right before the confession. Before Mama Alice and I knew anything about HER, before the big fight and the slamming of doors and the suitcases packed.
But already, we could all feel it: the shift.
Mom’s attention elsewhere, Mama Alice’s mood swings and depression, all of us wrapped in our own thought bubbles, moving through life on autopilot.
I needed the sweet violence of cold lake air in my lungs to wake up, to remind myself of my heart, that somewhere, past all that ice, a smallmouth bass was slinking its way through a forest of dense algae, waiting for summer too.
That love stories ebb and flow, just like the tide.
That sometimes you have to weather the cold, the impossible freeze, before life, as you knew it, can begin again.