by Carrie Mac
“Sorry, Junie,” Mallory muttered. “We didn’t know you were in here.”
“Yeah,” Tara echoed. “Sorry.”
They backed against the counter, giving Junie far more room than she needed. Junie could see Ollie standing there, and the door behind him. But she couldn’t make her feet move. She felt as if she’d been hollowed out and filled with cement. Heavy, cold, immovable.
Ollie hung back at the door, clearly debating with himself whether or not he should go and physically pull Junie out. Then Tabitha showed up behind him, quickly pushed him aside and strode into the bathroom. With one glance at the hangdog expressions on Mallory and Tara, Tabitha knew what had happened, if not specifically.
“What did they do?” Tabitha glared at the two girls.
“Nothing,” Junie said.
“We didn’t know she was in here.”
“And that makes it okay?” Tabitha pointed a finger at one girl, then the other.
“Say you’re sorry.”
“We did!” Mallory slunk toward the door, pulling Tara with her. “God.”
“What did they say?” Tabitha grabbed Junie’s arm and tugged her out of her paralysis.
“Nothing that isn’t true,” Junie said. They were back in the hall now, with Bob and Nikolai and Ollie. Students flooded past, slowing to stare and whisper and point. This would be the rest of her life, enduring endless unwanted attention for her mother’s dysfunction. It would never end. And furthermore, it would be forever looping in the rerun world of The Kendra Show. She’d never get away from it. Her own daughter would come home from school in tears, herself having been teased for it. And then her grandchildren. It was a legacy. A horrible, shit-stink legacy.
Junie groaned, overwhelmed by it all, and slid down the wall until she was sitting on the linoleum floor, watching a sea of legs pass in front of her. Tabitha crouched beside her first, then Ollie. And there was Bob and his damned camera, angling down on her.
“Junie?” Tabitha put a hand on her knee. “You okay?”
“Here.” Ollie thrust a paper bag at her, the same softly worn one he used before exams, to calm himself down, even though he always aced them. “It helps. Honest.”
Junie bunched the top of the bag in her hands and breathed into it. Out. In. Out. In.
“It’s scientifically proven to work,” Ollie was saying. “You’re rebreathing your own CO2 instead of wasting it. Studies have been done showing that breathing into a paper bag actually raises CO2 levels in the blood—”
“Thanks, Ollie.” Tabitha’s tone was clear.
“Okay.” Ollie backed away. “I’ll leave you guys. You can keep the bag, Junie. I’ve got more in my locker. I’m going to go find Lulu.”
The bell rang, ending break. Junie had one more period before lunch. World Studies. With Wade. Junie sucked the air out of the paper bag, her head feeling light.
“Want to skip?” Tabitha suggested.
Junie took another breath, and then returned it slowly into the bag before speaking. “You’d skip?”
“This one time. I would.” Tabitha helped Junie get back onto her feet. “For you. I could convincingly argue that the end justifies the means.”
“Wow, Tabitha. That’s really sweet.” The halls cleared, and the second bell rang. They were late now. Junie was torn. Skip, and also skip the chance to talk to Wade? Or go to class and endure the probable silent treatment? “But I want to see him. And this might be my only chance.”
“You’re sure?”
Junie nodded, but took another couple of steadying breaths in and out of Ollie’s bag for good measure. “I need to see him. Even if he doesn’t want to see me. Maybe he won’t even be there. Either way, I’ll be okay.”
Junie pushed open the door to her World Studies class and instantly felt a swarm of curious eyes swing toward her. Not Wade’s, though. He kept his eyes forward, on the teacher, who’d stopped speaking mid-sentence when Junie and the TV crew filed into the room.
“Oh no you don’t.” Mrs. Kepperly wagged a finger at the trio. “Not in my classroom. No way.”
Bob lowered his camera for a minute to speak to her. “We’ve got permission for the whole school, ma’am.”
“And has each and every one of these students signed a release form to be on your little show?” She gestured at the rows of desks in front of her. “Have I?”
“That usually comes after, ma’am.” Bob sounded as if he was back in high school, trying to talk back to the teacher and failing. He glanced at Nikolai for some help, but he only shrugged his shoulders and set the boom down. “When we got the footage we need.”
“When we’ve got the footage . . .” Mrs. Kepperly also taught English, and was a stickler for grammar.
“Yes, ma’am.” Bob ducked his head, his camera at his side.
“Off you go. There will be no filming in my classroom. Am I clear?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Bob and Nikolai backed out of the room, taking their clunky equipment with them, leaving Junie standing there all alone, which was, in fact, worse.
“Take your seat, Junie.” Mrs. Kepperly turned back to the board. “It’s just another ordinary day in my classroom. Let’s get on with it.”
Junie’s seat, of course, was beside Wade’s. They sat two to a table in this class, and she shared hers with Wade. Until now, anyway. She did a quick scan of the room in hopes that there would be an empty seat. But no. Hers was the only one without a bum in it.
Wade still hadn’t looked at her. And still didn’t, even as she made her way down the aisle while Mrs. Kepperly talked about the climate change conference coming up in Mumbai. Junie pulled her chair out as far as she could without banging into the table behind her. It felt as if there was an impenetrable force field around Wade. Junie perched on the edge of her chair, clutching her binder and textbook to her chest, her heart pounding so loudly she couldn’t hear a word that Mrs. Kepperly was saying.
“Wade?” Junie finally whispered.
He ignored her.
Junie set her books on the table and reached out and touched his shirt. Just with one finger. Just lightly on his shoulder. He whipped his head around and glared at her. Junie yanked her finger away, her fingertip so hot she was surprised it wasn’t singed.
She was going to cry. Right there in class. For everyone to see. Another reason to make fun of her. Point and stare. Junie who lived in the house full of useless stuff, fetid and ruined. The house that smelled of shit. Junie the crybaby. Junie who got dumped. Junie who was on The Kendra Show for all the wrong reasons, her humiliation filmed, edited and broadcast in high definition for everyone’s schadenfreude enjoyment.
Junie pulled a piece of paper out of her binder and scrawled I’m sorry!!! across the top. She pushed it at him. Without even glancing at it, he slid it back.
She added, Please, please, please let me explain! and pushed it back.
He glanced at it this time, and then bent over it to write a reply. Junie waited, her heart in her throat, choking her. He slid the paper back. His writing was messy, but she’d gotten used to it and could read it easily.
I trusted you. You lied to me. I was falling in love with a lie. I don’t know who you are. I just know that you’re not who I thought you were. What I do know is that you are a liar.
His words were a hard kick to the gut. Love. In love with a lie. Her breath was punched out of her. She slid her hand into her pocket and felt Ollie’s paper bag in there. She couldn’t bring herself to use it in front of everyone. She left the note, grabbed her things, lurched out of her seat and stumbled to the door.
Mrs. Kepperly pointed a marker at her. “Where are you going, Junie?”
But Junie couldn’t answer her. She fumbled with the door handle and burst out into the mercifully empty hall. She doubled over, breathing hard into Ollie’s bag. Mrs. Kepperly followed her out and put a hand on her back.
“That’s it, deep breaths.”
Would Wade come out too? To see if she was okay? Juni
e straightened, eyes on the door, which Mrs. Kepperly had shut behind her.
“Why don’t you go down to the nurse’s office for the rest of class? How does that sound, dear? I think this business with the media is affecting you more than you think.”
On the contrary, Junie was keenly aware of exactly how she was being affected.
She nodded, nonetheless. “Thank you,” she said into the bag.
“Shall I get Wade to walk you down?”
“No!” Junie shook her head and waved her off with her free hand. “No. I can make it on my own. Thank you.”
Mrs. Kepperly slipped into the room to fetch Junie a hall pass and then sent her on her way.
Junie stopped a little distance down the hall and turned around, her eyes locked on the door to the classroom. She leaned against a bank of lockers, waiting. She hoped Wade would change his mind and come after her. But at the same time, she would rather never see him again if it meant feeling the pain of his rejection. His disappointment in her. What was worse was that everything he’d written was true. She was a liar. And she couldn’t blame him if he didn’t care how his words had wounded her. Maybe he even wanted her to feel bad. And she deserved it.
EIGHTEEN
Bob and Nikolai came and found Junie in the nurse’s room when the bell rang. The nurse showed them in herself, looking a little bit guilty and a lot impressed by the camera and boom and their Kendra crew shirts.
“Junie? Is it okay if they film just a minute or two in here?” The nurse looked as though she was begging Junie for a minute or two of her own fifteen minutes of fame.
“Not really.” Junie’s face was splotched red after nearly an hour of crying. “Whatever happened to patient confidentiality? Just leave me alone. Please.”
“But it’s The Kendra Show! That’s a really big deal, Junie.”
Junie took a good look at the woman for the first time. She could hardly have been out of nurses’ training. Twenty-two at the oldest?
“Who wouldn’t want to be you right now? You get to meet Kendra and be on her show. Probably the most famous woman in the whole world!”
“I, for one, do not want to be me.” Junie pulled the blanket down and glared at the nurse. “You do know why my mom is on the show?”
“Sure I do. I saw a little bit of it on the news last night. She’s not the only one. Lots of people have hoarding problems. I’ve seen lots of TV shows on it.” The nurse smiled at her. “It’s good that she’s getting help, right?”
“Right.” Junie pulled the blanket back up over her head. “Bob, I can’t do this any more. This is totally ridiculous. You’ve got enough footage, don’t you? Please, please, please, please, please just leave me alone.”
Nikolai started to back out of the tiny room, but Bob pulled him back. “You think Kendra got so famous by leaving people alone?”
Junie sat up. “And do you think it’s kind or fair or right to film me when I’m at my worst?” She blew her nose on one of the tissues that had accumulated by the pillow. “Fine. Drive me to the bridge. You can film me jumping off. Charlie says drama makes good TV . . . is that enough drama for you?”
“Suicide?” The nurse blanched. “Now, Junie, you know that we have a protocol for kids who are having thoughts about harming themselves—”
“Oh, please.” Junie flung off the blanket and swung her legs over the side of the cot. “It was a joke.”
“Trust me, it was a joke,” Bob reassured the nurse. “Inside joke between the two of us. She’s got a dark sense of humour.” To Junie, he added, “We film everything. That’s how we get the good stuff.”
Tabitha pushed into the room, shoving her way around Bob and Nikolai and the nurse. “Junie, you okay?”
“No,” Junie said miserably.
“We were just deciding if they could shoot in here,” said the nurse. “I don’t mind at all. That Kendra is a saint. If I was American, I’d want her to be president. Heck, I’d vote for her to be prime minister!”
“Because that would solve everything.” Tabitha rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Junie gratefully followed her into the hall and down to the cafeteria, where Ollie and Lulu were waiting for them at their usual table. No Wade. That wasn’t a surprise. Especially not after the debacle in World Studies.
With Bob and Nikolai standing over them, filming, Junie huddled heads with her friends and told them—in a whisper—about Wade’s cold shoulder and his even colder words in the note.
“Give him some time,” Lulu said.
“He’ll come around,” Ollie said.
“Can you blame him?” Tabitha said.
“Tabitha!” Junie felt stung. But she knew she was right. “No, I can’t blame him. But he could at least talk to me. Get mad at me in person. Anything would be better than the silent treatment.”
Lunch dragged on and on as people wandered by, hamming it up for the camera, talking in not-so-hushed whispers about Junie’s mom.
Compulsive hoarder, like, mountains and mountains of junk.
Filthy . . . they say she hasn’t showered in years.
Dead cats all over the place.
I heard there’s a foot-deep swamp of shit in the basement.
She sits in diapers all day so she doesn’t have to go to the bathroom.
“Dead cats? Where do they get this stuff?” Tabitha said, exasperated. She spun, and hollered at the nearest gawkers, “Get out of here! You guys don’t have a clue what you’re talking about, so scram!”
But they didn’t. They just laughed some more and stayed put, hoping the camera would swing their way.
Halfway through lunch, the PA system crackled on and Junie was summoned to the principal’s office. That was just what she needed. The whole cafeteria erupted with a chorus of, “Ooohs.” Junie dropped her head into her hands.
“This day cannot possibly get any worse.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Tabitha said.
This made Junie laugh, kind of a desperate, strangled laugh. “How can you say that? With everything going on, how can you say that? For all I know Kendra herself could be waiting for me.”
But it wasn’t Kendra. It was Junie’s father, his cheeks red and eyes ablaze. “I have to hear about this from the news? The goddamned news?”
“It’s kind of old news, Dad. Where were you last night? Or this morning?”
He blushed slightly. “Evelyn and I were doing a silent retreat.”
“You didn’t tell me you were going anywhere.”
“We didn’t. We were at home.” He aimed an angry finger at Bob. “Turn that thing off. You do not have my permission to film me or my daughter.”
Bob, to Junie’s amazement, lowered the camera. “Parents have veto power,” he explained in response to Junie’s astonishment. “Didn’t know there was a father in the picture. Falconetti’s going to be pissed,” he said to Nikolai. “Might have to scrap all the stuff we got today.”
“Oh no, say it isn’t so!” Junie’s voice was thick with sarcasm.
“Might just mean we have to come back,” Bob warned as he and Nikolai made their way out of the office. The principal excused herself too, so Junie and her father could talk privately.
“What do you mean you didn’t go anywhere?” Junie asked once she had her father to herself.
“We do the retreats at home. Once a month or so. Reset. Recharge. Renew.”
“That has ‘Evelyn’ written all over it. Her idea, right?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact.” Her dad steered her out of the office and out the front door, where his car was parked at the curb. “It’s a very healthy thing. We turn off the cellphones and TV and the radio and don’t go on the Internet. We have a nice meal and a bath with essential oils—”
“TMI, Dad.” Junie held up her hand. He gave her a confused look. “Too much information. Spare me.”
“Sorry.”
“You should be.” Junie threw her bag into the back seat and climbed into the f
ront. “The only good thing I can think of about your weird silent retreat is the thought of Evelyn not speaking.”
“Junie!” Her dad spun in his seat. “Enough!”
Junie was taken aback. “What?”
Her father gripped the steering wheel and glared straight ahead. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. I have absolutely had it with you bad-mouthing Evelyn. No more. I won’t have it. Especially not with everything else going on. Understood?”
Junie pushed her inner nasty bitch out of the way. She knew when she was pushing it too far with her dad, and this was one of those times. “Sorry.”
He started the car. After a long moment, he spoke. “It pains me to say it, but I don’t think you’re sorry at all. I’m sad that you’re not more empathetic toward others.”
For a brief moment, Junie felt a deep, aching shame. But then it flipped, and she was just plain mad again. “Dad?”
“Junie.”
“How about you don’t ask me to be empathetic about the woman who broke my parents up and I’ll just stop talking about her altogether.” She managed to make the words come out calmly, which she was grateful for. “Deal?”
There was another long pause, during which—Junie was pretty sure—her dad was choosing his own words just as carefully.
“Fair enough. Deal.”
They drove a few blocks without saying anything more, until Junie’s curiosity got the better of her. “Where are we going?”
“My place.”
But Junie didn’t want to go there. Because That Woman would be there. Her father, knowing that was what she was thinking, added, “She’s working.”
On breaking up another family, likely.
“Oh,” was all Junie said, to avoid saying anything worse. Another long silence. “Can we drive past the house?”
“You want to?”
“Yeah.”
There were only three media vans out front today, now that Kendra herself had left. The Got Junk trunks were parked in the driveway. There were three of them, and all three were already half full.