The Invincible Summer of Juniper Jones

by Daven McQueen

  It was strange, Ethan thought, to hear his mother speak this way. Except when he was young and she’d fought with his father, he’d never seen her angry a day in his life. She was the one who held her temper and kept her voice soft. But as he looked at her now, he saw that her eyes were bright with fury. She kept her anger quiet, held it differently, but it was still there, burning.

  “Yeah,” he said eventually. “Juniper’s been saying that too.”

  “Then she’s a smart girl. And a good friend.” She tilted her head. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s been going on in Ellison.”

  Over the next hour, over tall glasses of sweet iced tea, Ethan talked about Ellison. He told his mom about Noah O’Neil, the moment in the general store, the way people stared. He seethed about his father. He talked about being angry, constantly, but also sad and, most of all, afraid. He felt the layers of hurt peeling away, if only for a moment.

  “It’s just that I didn’t know what it would be like,” he said at the end, picking at a splinter on the tabletop. “I thought Dad made me go to Ellison because it’s hot and boring, not because it’s—you know.”

  “You know, I’d guess that your father thought he was sending you to Ellison because it’s hot and boring too.” She sighed deeply. “Your dad has never talked to you about race.” It wasn’t a question. Ethan shook his head. “That’s what all our fights always came back to. I wanted to talk about race with you and the twins, the way my parents did with me when they told me about my enslaved grandparents who were sold for auction at that big fountain in the center of Montgomery. It’s important for us to know where we come from and what’s been done to us, otherwise, how’re we supposed to fight what’s happening to us now? It’s all connected.”

  It’s all connected. This was the first Ethan had heard about his great-grandparents, but he remembered passing that fountain as he and Juniper ran through the rain. They’d learned about it in school, a little bit: the slave trade, the Civil War. And yet never had he connected the grainy drawings of black bodies in chains to his own history.

  “But Dad didn’t think so,” Ethan guessed.

  She shook her head. “A decade in Arcadia was enough to make him forget what the world was like outside. And Arcadia wasn’t even perfect. But of course, he didn’t see that.” Frowning, his mother gazed over his shoulder, where the TV still played softly. After a moment, she went on, “He wanted you to stay innocent as long as you could. Problem is, colored kids don’t get to be innocent. It’s like you come out of the womb full grown, the way the world treats you. And your father means well, but he just can’t understand. He’ll be innocent till the day he dies.”

  Ethan thought of Juniper, with her brazen curiosity, the way she moved through the world with childlike ease. All this time he’d figured that was just Juniper Jones. And it was, sure. But maybe, also, it was because she was allowed to be this way.

  “Is that why you left? Because Dad didn’t agree with you?” He realized after the words were out that they were, to his surprise, coated with resentment. His mother was unfazed.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” she said softly. “We knew we couldn’t stay together. But when it came down to the divorce, your dad won custody. I couldn’t afford to live in Arcadia on my own. I didn’t want to leave. But I had to.”

  Ethan’s resentment shifted now to his father. “This is all Dad’s fault,” he said.

  “The blame here’s not so simple, sweetheart. Your dad was doing the best with what he knows. This is what he thought was right.”

  “But it’s not right. You know it’s not right.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “I know.”

  They were both silent for a while, thinking, maybe, about their fragmented family. For his part, Ethan was wondering how he might ever begin to forgive his father. How he could ever really believe that his dad had been as naive as he himself had been? He sighed, turning back to his mother.

  “In town today,” he said, “Juniper and I went to see a movie, and I had to sit separate from everyone else. And when I went to the bathroom, same thing.” He looked down, somehow ashamed. As if to be distinguished in this way was a weakness.

  His mother nodded slowly. “It’s like that in all the big cities ’round here. Separate rooms, seating areas, sometimes even businesses for white folks and colored folks. Or take this apartment, for example. You couldn’t pay a white person enough to make them live within a half mile radius of here. Some towns, I hear, you’re not even allowed out on the street after dark if you are black.”

  “But why?” Ethan felt like he’d been asking this question all summer. To Juniper, to himself—and he couldn’t find an answer.

  His mother was silent for a moment, lips pursed as she gathered her words. Ethan watched the way her eyebrows arched when she was thinking, just as they had when he was little. The same way he knew his eyebrows arched too.

  “For a long time, the law let white people treat us no better than cattle,” she said finally. “And some of them realized that it was no way to treat a person—or at least, they realized that they couldn’t get away with being so obvious anymore. So they got more clever, and they made laws that kept us down—even if we weren’t in captivity. That’s why my parents, your grandparents, worked on a farm for next to nothing for years and years, even though they were free. Because the law said they couldn’t have a deed to their names.”

  “But why?” Ethan asked again.

  “Because people are afraid of what will happen if we are really free.” Her eyes hardened. “When you trap people for hundreds of years, make their lives a living hell, they’re bound to get antsy. And furious. And so white folks think the harder they make it for us to live, the longer they’ll be able to put off a revolution.”

  She said it so simply: a revolution. Gently, but with conviction, as if she knew it was coming. If it was, she’d be part of it. Ethan was sure of this. For years to come, Ethan would remember the revolution his mother spoke of—he’d see it in the people around him, and eventually in himself. But for now, the word sent an excited flutter through his stomach. And a certain relief, too, of someone finally giving him an answer.

  “Mom, can I just stay here?” he blurted. It was clear from their mirrored surprise that neither expected those words. “I mean—I just—” Ethan struggled to explain. Of course, so much would be harder in Montgomery. There was more, he was sure, than what he’d seen. But sitting here with his mother, he realized how long he’d gone without having someone who understood him. He didn’t say this out loud, just looked at her, but she seemed to understand.

  For the first time Ethan could remember, tears gathered in his mother’s eyes. Clumsily, she stood and rounded the table to collect him into her arms. “Honey,” she whispered, “there’s nothing I want more to have you and Anthony and Sadie with me. But it’s not that simple.” She stepped back, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. “Your dad is your legal guardian, and to challenge that would mean putting our whole family through hell. If I couldn’t even get partial custody the first time around, there’s no way any judge would give it to me now. Especially with me being back in Montgomery, and all—according to this state, my marriage to your father never existed.”

  Whatever relief Ethan had felt rushed quickly out of him. Tears slithered down his cheeks and his heart ached with every beat. “That’s not fair,” he said, turning to bury his face in his mother’s shoulder. She held him close.

  “I know, honey,” she said. “It’s not fair at all.”

  Ethan closed his eyes, wishing to hold still forever in the safety of that moment. He had spent two months, and really longer, looking out for himself—he’d forgotten how wonderful it felt to let himself be held. His mother didn’t move, running her hand gently across his hair as he let his breathing slow to a calm.

  Some time later, Ethan heard the doorbell
ring. “I think that’s your uncle,” his mother said softly, and took a slow step back. Ethan straightened as she disappeared into the hall.

  “Is that Mr. Shay?” came Juniper’s voice, and a moment later, she bounded back into the kitchen, Ramona at her heels. The younger girl was grinning.

  “We finished the whole puzzle,” she said proudly.

  “We sure did,” Juniper said, giving Ramona a high five. “But really, it was all Mona.”

  Ramona’s smile grew wider. From the hallway came Ethan’s mother’s voice: “Ethan, Juniper—Robert is here.” A moment later, Uncle Robert appeared in the kitchen. It was strange to see him here in his mother’s kitchen, these worlds colliding. But Uncle Robert offered him a smile and asked if he was ready to go, and Ethan smiled back and nodded.

  “Thank you for dinner, Ms. Phillips,” Juniper said, hugging Ethan’s mom as Ethan stood up from the table.

  “Anytime, sweetheart. If you ever find yourself back in Montgomery, you know you’re always welcome here.”

  “Bye, Mona.” Juniper hugged the younger girl, who squeezed her fiercely before running to Ethan and quickly wrapping her arms around him.

  “Bye,” she said, blinking up at them.

  “Bye, Mona,” Ethan said. Juniper and Uncle Robert were in the doorway now, and Ethan was left with his mother, who looked at him with teary, loving eyes.

  “Thank you for coming, Ethan,” she said, embracing him tightly. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “I hope so,” Ethan said against her shoulder.

  “Know that if I could let you stay here, I would do it in a heartbeat. But even if I’m far away, I’m here for you, always. I’m your mom, after all.” She stepped away, smiling sadly.

  “I know.”

  “And I love you.”

  “I love you too,” Ethan said, his voice cracking.

  “Oh, and one more thing,” she said, dropping her voice. “Juniper seems like a wonderful friend. Sometimes that’s what you need to make it through. Keep her close.”

  Ethan nodded. “I will.” He took a deep breath and gave her one last, quick hug before joining Juniper and Uncle Robert at the stairs.

  “Thanks, Lydia,” Uncle Robert called through the doorway.

  “Anytime, Rob.”

  Ethan felt exhaustion sweep through him as they made their way out to the pickup. It was near dusk now, and the sky was streaked with the purples and pinks of sunset.

  “Wow,” Juniper breathed, tilting her head back. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

  Ethan nodded; it was. Seeing the wonder on her face, Uncle Robert smiled. “You know, I’ve got a few blankets back there. Why don’t you kids ride in the bed?”

  “You mean it?” Juniper asked. “Oh, wow, I can’t wait. Come on, Ethan.” She grabbed his hand, dragging him toward the truck’s parking spot down the street. Heavy as he felt, Ethan couldn’t help but laugh.

  There were a few boxes strapped into the bed of the truck but just enough space to wrap themselves in blankets and lie back to see the sky. Ethan and Juniper settled in, shoulders pressed together as Uncle Robert started the engine.

  “Y’all good back there?” Ethan flashed him a thumbs-up. The truck revved to life and Uncle Robert took off down the lane.

  Both of them were silent as Uncle Robert wound through the streets of Montgomery and back onto the highway. Once they were out on the open road, though, trees rushing by them, Ethan turned to Juniper.

  “I told her everything,” he said.

  Her head against his shoulder, Juniper nodded. “How did it feel?”

  “Good. Really good.” He paused. “And also sad. Because there’s nothing we can do about it.”

  Juniper yawned. “Well, I don’t know about that,” she said sleepily.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it would be hard. But I think there’s always something you could do. Just little things, like that girl our age who didn’t get up for a white lady on the bus. Or you telling Noah O’Neil to leave you alone. The things that let the bad guys know you’re not just gonna sit and take it.” She looked up at Ethan, her freckles like stars in the dusky light. “And there’s a lot I can do, too, I think. Because people look at me different than they look at you. I’m safe in my skin, I mean.” She yawned again. “I don’t know what yet, exactly. But whatever I can do, I’m sure gonna do it.”

  Love and gratitude swelled up in Ethan’s chest, and he pressed his cheek against Juniper’s hair. “I bet you will,” he said quietly.

  The sun fled quickly, and it wasn’t long before they were bathed in darkness. Ethan whispered Juniper’s name, but she was asleep. Carefully, he eased her head off his shoulder and lowered her onto the floor of the truck bed. She snored loudly, curled into a tight ball. Ethan smiled down at her, then crawled over to the rear window of the truck and rapped a fist against it. Glancing over his shoulder, Uncle Robert reached back to slide it open.

  “Everything all right, son?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Ethan replied. “Just wanted to say thanks for taking us to Montgomery.”

  Eyes on the road, Uncle Robert shrugged. “I mean, had to go for my shipment,” he mumbled. “But how was it, anyway?”

  Ethan leaned his chin against the cold metal of the windowsill and shrugged. “It was a lot of things,” he said. “Great sometimes. Hard lots of other times.”

  “Well”—Uncle Robert scratched his head—“want to talk about it?”

  “No, I think I’m all right.”

  “Okay.” He was silent for a long time, then cleared his throat. “You know, I’ve been meaning to say for a while,” he said after a moment. “I know your dad didn’t tell you much. About race and all that.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “I’m not saying things should be the way they are here. But I think white folks down here just don’t know it any other way. And I know it’s hard for you to be here. I just—I wanted to say, I get it. Even if I don’t. I know it’s not like that where you’re from.”

  Ethan frowned, thinking about Samuel Hill and years of subtle comments from other kids that made his stomach churn in ways he couldn’t explain. “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it’s like that everywhere. Some people just hide it better.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud, even thought it fully, but he knew immediately that this wasn’t a maybe. Like his mother said, things were different for him, looking the way he did.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Ethan saw Uncle Robert nod, then they both fell silent. Ethan stared over the empty seats and out the front window, at the road that chased the sliver of the moon ahead of them. Every now and then a car would pass from the other direction in a blur of headlights, but otherwise, it was just them and the trees. The fuzzy green landscape and soft radio music were hypnotic, and after a while, Ethan felt his eyes drifting shut, his cheek against the edge of the window.

  “Hey, son, I’m sorry,” Uncle Robert said suddenly. Ethan jolted awake. “I haven’t always been fair to you since you’ve been here. Guess I just didn’t really know how. Ellison hasn’t got such a great track record with colored folks, and I just assumed—anyway, it wasn’t right of me.”

  “Thanks, Uncle Robert. I appreciate it.”

  “It was because of Juniper, you know,” he went on, the words spilling out now. “I saw the way she looked at you, how she knew so fast that she wanted to be your friend, and I thought, ‘Well, Juniper Jones doesn’t take such a liking to just everyone.’ She’s got the biggest heart of anyone I know, and I thought if she liked you, you must have a good heart too. And you do. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that earlier.”

  “It shouldn’t have taken Juniper,” Ethan said, before he could stop himself. Uncle Robert frowned.

  “Sorry?”

  Ethan swallowed. “It shouldn’t have taken Juniper being my fri
end,” he said. “For you to see me as a person.” He stared pointedly ahead, bracing himself for his uncle’s defensive, angry response. Instead, after a long moment, the man nodded.

  “You’re right,” he said simply. “It shouldn’t have.”

  Ethan looked at his uncle then, really looked at him, for what felt like the first time. He saw past the scruffy face, trimmed hair, and wrinkled T-shirt to a man, good at heart, who was trying to unlearn what he’d been told for decades. Behind Ethan, Juniper snored suddenly in her sleep and rolled over. Ethan glanced back at her with a small smile.

  “But I’m still glad it did,” Ethan said. “However you got there. I’m lucky to have Juniper.”

  Uncle Robert glanced quickly back at them both, then back to the road. “You are,” he agreed. “But you know, it goes both ways. She’s lucky to have you too.”

  August 1955

  Seventeen

  August descended on Ellison in a series of sweltering days, where the air sat heavy and people slowed to glacial paces. But for Ethan and Juniper, there was no change in speed. Every day after Ethan’s shift ended, Juniper would ride up to the Malt on her bike and Ethan would practically throw off his apron as he ran out the door, ready for their next adventure.

  One day, they made kites out of fallen sticks and old newspapers. They only stayed airborne for about five minutes, but the paper airplanes they made from the leftover scraps had some serious flight power. Another day, they borrowed yarn from Aunt Cara and tried to learn how to knit, ending up with a tangled mess of knots and loops. Juniper taught Ethan how to row a boat, and Ethan taught Juniper how to sprint a hundred meters. They both taught each other the words to their favorite songs.

  It was quickly occurring to both of them, though they didn’t voice it, that Ethan was leaving very soon. In a month he would be loading his record collection back into his dad’s Mercury for the 2,500 miles back to Arcadia. For Ethan, this was at once relieving and incredibly sad. He’d been looking forward to going home all summer—now, home felt as foreign to him as Ellison had when he’d first arrived. He wasn’t sure how to go back to his friends, to school, to track practice, or to his job at the burger joint, pretending as if nothing had changed.