The Invincible Summer of Juniper Jones

by Daven McQueen

  “We’re going to be okay,” Juniper said. “They’re just trying to scare us.”

  “What about what Noah said?” Ethan whispered. “About Cole Parker, and when they came for him?”

  “That was different. Cole was a total stranger in town, and black as night to boot. No one gave a care about him or his family. But you have your dad, and more importantly, Mr. and Mrs. Shay. Sure, you don’t look like them, but you’re blood. And people ’round here like your aunt and uncle. They respect them. And that’s enough. Just barely.”

  Ethan lifted a hand to his face as if he could see it, then pressed his palm to his cheek. He knew that the skin beneath his fingers was brown, but not like his mother’s. Not like the girl on the bus who got arrested in Montgomery. Not, he was sure, like Cole Parker. He wondered if this shade of brown meant he got stares on the street but not assault; pushed down on the bus but not arrested. If it meant he was threatened by the Ku Klux Klan—but not killed.

  He couldn’t get his heart to slow down.

  Juniper felt around for his hand, not saying a word but squeezing it tightly. He squeezed back. Outside, all they could hear was the murmur of the brook. They couldn’t see the flames or smell the smoke, but Ethan felt as if the men were just outside. He closed his eyes and held tight to Juniper’s hand, wishing he could disappear.

  He wasn’t sure how long they crouched there, squeezed into the tree trunk, but at some point, he drifted to sleep. When he woke up, there was a crick in his neck. Juniper, he could tell, was sitting straight up, her hand still wrapped around his.

  “Are you awake?” she whispered.

  “Yeah. How long has it been?”

  “An hour and a half. I’ve been counting.” Ethan’s heart broke, thinking of Juniper sitting there in the darkness, ticking off the time second by second. He squeezed her hand a little tighter.

  “Do you think it’s safe now?” he asked.

  She hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know. But we can’t stay here forever. And we’ll be faster than them on our bikes, right?”

  “Right,” Ethan agreed but didn’t move.

  They sat there for a moment longer, staring at each other—though they couldn’t tell in the darkness—before Juniper took a deep breath and slithered out of the hollow. Bracing himself for the worst, Ethan followed.

  But it was empty in the clearing, peaceful even, with the moon a sliver through the trees and the brook reflecting branches on its surface. Standing here, no one could have guessed that there was a cross burning only a thicket away.

  Ethan pulled their bikes from the bush and they walked, side by side, through the undergrowth, making another nonsensical winding path before finally emerging onto the path. He knew where they were—five minutes east and they’d be at Aunt Cara’s—but out on the open road he felt like a moving target.

  “Let’s hurry,” he urged, mounting his bike. They pedaled off as quietly as they could, leaving a shivering cloud of dust behind them.

  Ethan didn’t let himself look anywhere except straight ahead. Every sound made him start and then pedal faster. Juniper was just behind him, more silent than he thought she’d ever been. His heart was in his throat until they reached Aunt Cara’s house, where they leapt off their bikes mid pedal and saw Uncle Robert and Aunt Cara huddled on the porch steps. They stood when they saw the kids, and even in the dim light, Ethan noticed their ashen faces.

  Ethan tried to speak, but only a strangled sound came out. He stumbled up the steps and into their waiting arms. Juniper was right behind him.

  “Thank God,” Aunt Cara breathed, burying her head in Ethan’s shoulder. “Oh, thank God.”

  Even Uncle Robert sounded teary as he said, “They walked by the house with their torches. Didn’t say anything, just marched around and around the house. I’m glad you kids weren’t here.”

  “We saw them,” Ethan said. “By the lake. Burning a cross.”

  Aunt Cara made a pained sound and drew back from the embrace to swipe at her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “Both of you. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Juniper struggled to smile. “It’s okay, Mrs. Shay. We’re all right.”

  Aunt Cara reached out and cupped Juniper’s face in her hand, then nodded. “Well, you’re staying here tonight, Juniper. We’ll make up the couch for you. Are you both hungry? I have some leftover biscuits.”

  “Come on,” Uncle Robert said. “We’d better get inside.”

  Ethan lingered for a moment longer on the porch as his family made their way inside. The road was silent now, the trees dark. He looked up at the sky, still so clear and beautiful that it seemed like an insult. From where he stood, he could just barely make out the cross of stars that had seemed so magical from the top of Alligator Hill. It didn’t look like a bird anymore.

  Twenty

  Ethan had been swallowed by silence. He lay face up on his bed, his fingers laced over his stomach, trying to remember a time when the air hadn’t felt like a building on his chest. Two days had passed since the monsters in white had marched through Ellison. His aunt and uncle had insisted, gently but firmly, that he was not to leave the house. Uncle Robert was covering his shifts at the Malt, and Aunt Cara, who was almost due, made up plenty of tasks to keep him busy around the house. And though the Shays both worried about her riding through the forest alone, Juniper came by every day, keeping watch from the arm of the couch as if ready for the men to come back at any moment. Ethan stayed in his room, playing music at top volume to drown out his thoughts. All he wanted was to sit with Juniper at the lake and stare so hard into the sun that he could no longer see or think anything at all.

  On the evening of the second day, after Juniper had gone home, Aunt Cara knocked gently on Ethan’s door. Groaning, Ethan turned down the volume.

  “Hey,” she said. “Dinner’s ready.”

  Ethan nodded, pushing himself out of bed and following her into the kitchen. There was a pot of chicken soup laid out on the table and Uncle Robert was already waiting. Ethan mumbled a hello as he sat down. Dimly, he heard his aunt pull out the chair across from him, easing precariously into it with a hand on her stomach. She regarded Ethan silently as she ladled soup into the bowls, but he kept his eyes fiercely trained on the tablecloth. It was a moment before he realized he was clutching his spoon in a trembling grip.

  “Honey,” Aunt Cara said gently, and Ethan released the spoon. It bounced off the surface of the table and clattered to the floor.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s all right,” Uncle Robert said, bending to pick up the spoon. Already, Aunt Cara had set another one beside his bowl.

  “Please eat something, Ethan,” she said. Obligingly, Ethan lifted the spoon to his lips, tasting nothing as the soup went down. He felt his aunt and uncle share a concerned glance and he forced himself to take a few more bites. When they seemed satisfied, he cleared his throat.

  “I was thinking. Maybe after dinner I could take a walk? I’ve been cooped up in here, and I just think it’d help me clear my head—” The stricken look on Aunt Cara’s face stopped him. “Right,” he said. “Okay. Never mind.”

  “I’m sorry, honey,” she said. “I just don’t know if it’s safe out there. At least here, we know where you are.”

  “No, I get it. It’s fine.” He stirred his soup. His aunt and uncle ate in silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to take more than a few bites. He’d felt sick to his stomach ever since that night.

  “That all you’re having?” Uncle Robert asked. He peered over Ethan’s dish. Ethan nodded. “Suit yourself.” He didn’t pry further. Ethan sat there at the kitchen table, staring out the window, until the sun sank fully behind the trees and his soup, barely touched, went cold.

  Late the next morning, Ethan woke to the sound of his aunt’s voice, sharper than he’d ever heard it. She was in the living room, but he could make out her words e
ven from beneath his covers.

  “Andrew, you heard what I said,” she was saying. “They came through town, just like last year with the Parker boy.” She paused. “Why on earth would I exaggerate about something like this? If you don’t want to admit you made a mistake, fine. But the fact is, your son isn’t safe here.”

  At this, Ethan sat up, pulled on a T-shirt from a pile on the floor, and tiptoed into the hall. His aunt stood by the couch, phone to her ear, seething.

  “Yes, actually, I think that’s exactly what you need to do,” she said. She looked up and noticed Ethan standing in the hallway. She mouthed, “It’s your dad,” and he nodded.

  “Don’t be like that, Andrew,” Aunt Cara said, softer now. She sighed. “All right. I know. Do you want to speak to Ethan? He’s up now.”

  His father must have said yes, because a moment later, Aunt Cara beckoned to him and held out the phone. She squeezed his shoulder as he pressed the receiver against his ear. His eyes were still heavy from sleep.

  “Hi, Dad,” he said hoarsely.

  From the way Aunt Cara had been talking, Ethan expected to find his dad cold and angry on the other line. He was braced for it. Instead, though, he seemed to be choking back tears.

  “I had no idea,” came his voice, soft and broken. He repeated the same words again and again. “I had no idea. I had no idea.”

  Ethan held still, unsure what to say. He imagined his father slumped against their kitchen counter, whispering into the phone so he wouldn’t wake Anthony and Sadie. He would almost rather his dad be angry, the way he’d been after the fight with Samuel Hill. This sadness, this remorse, was almost too much to bear.

  “I didn’t know it would be like this,” his dad said eventually, voice clearer now. There was such confusion in his tone that Ethan felt a shock of anger.

  “I don’t know if I believe that, Dad.”

  “I mean it. I mostly mean it,” he amended. “I knew being in Ellison would be a little hard on you. I thought you needed that. But Cara told me about the march and I—I didn’t know it would be like this.”

  Ethan closed his eyes and took a deep breath to keep from screaming. He could hear in his dad’s voice that the man was serious—he really hadn’t known. But ignorance was no excuse.

  “Okay, well, it is bad,” he said. “And I didn’t need it.”

  “I know. I understand that now.”

  Ethan toed at the living room floor with his bare foot. He could hear Aunt Cara in the kitchen, rustling around but undoubtedly listening.

  “I saw Mom, you know,” Ethan said. “In Montgomery.”

  His dad was silent for a long moment. Ethan fiddled with the cord. “I know,” his dad said finally. “She told me.”

  “It wasn’t fair of you,” Ethan went on, “not telling her about all of this.”

  “I know.”

  Ethan couldn’t think of a time his dad had agreed with him so readily. He sounded tired, defeated. His voice was thick with regret.

  “I know that there’s a lot I don’t understand about you,” his father said now. “And some of it I’ll maybe never understand. But I guess—I guess I haven’t really been trying.” Ethan said nothing. “I’m so sorry, Ethan. For making you go to Ellison, for not telling your mother—all of it.”

  “Okay,” Ethan said.

  His father took a breath. “Your aunt is right: it’s not safe for you there anymore. Probably never was, really. I’m dropping off the twins at a neighbor’s after breakfast and leaving for Ellison tonight.”

  Ethan blinked, registering his father’s words. “Tonight?” he echoed.

  “I’d leave right now if I could. But it shouldn’t take me more than five days to get there. And then we’ll come right back home. How does that sound?”

  Ethan was frozen, staring at the floor with the phone at his ear. All summer, this was what he had wanted: to leave. And after everything that had just happened, he should have been thrilled. Instead, he just felt kind of ill.

  His father’s question still hung in the air and he screwed his eyes shut. After a moment, the words came out on their own. “You think that makes up for it?” he asked after a moment, very quietly.

  “Sorry?”

  “I said, do you think that makes up for it? Everything you’ve put me through, sending me here for the summer. You think that deciding to come pick me up early makes up for it?”

  “No, of course not, but—”

  “Because it doesn’t.”

  His father was silent. When he didn’t say anything for several moments, Ethan went on, “I want to leave. I want you to come and get me. But it’s going to take a long time for me to forgive you.”

  Another beat of silence, then his dad murmured, “I know.” His voice was shaky, muffled. “I’m sorry. I know.”

  “I know you know. And I know you’re sorry. But that’s not enough.”

  Ethan could see his dad standing at the kitchen counter, hunched uncomfortably next to the phone. He sniffled, and Ethan imagined him rubbing at his eyes, trying to maintain his composure. It made his stomach twist, but he didn’t take it back. Sorry wasn’t enough. The hurt he felt was deep and heavy and tinged with betrayal. He didn’t know when that would go away.

  “You don’t have to forgive me, Ethan,” his dad said eventually, the words coming out strangled. “I’ll try to be better—I’m going to be better. But you don’t have to forgive me.”

  “Thanks, Dad,” Ethan said quietly.

  “You’re a good kid, Ethan. You deserve better.”

  And now it was Ethan’s turn, softly but with conviction, to say, “I know.”

  “I’ll see you soon, okay? Five days.”

  Ethan thought about Juniper Jones and the incomplete bucket list taped to the inside of a hollow tree. He thought of how she was there for him, over and over, when she didn’t need to be. How she tried so hard to see the best in people. But he also thought of Noah O’Neil, the men in white, the burning cross. He shuddered. Juniper, he knew, would understand.

  “Five days,” he said. “I’ll see you then.”

  When Juniper showed up that afternoon, Ethan was sprawled across the couch, staring blankly at the television. She came inside quietly when Aunt Cara opened the door and dropped into the love seat beside Ethan.

  “No sign of them today,” she said, updating him just as she had the two days before. “I think they’re gone.”

  “Yeah,” Ethan said, but it didn’t make him feel much better. They watched TV in silence for a while, Juniper laughing every now and then at one of the actors’ antics. Sun came through the windows, warming the room. Eventually the program ended and Ethan rolled off the couch to turn the set off.

  “My dad called today,” he said as he did, not looking at Juniper.

  “He did?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  Ethan tapped at the TV knob, still squatting in front of it. “Well, Aunt Cara told him. About the Klan, and everything. He was pretty freaked.” He saw Juniper nod out of the corner of his eye. She was still waiting. “And he decided—he decided he’s leaving tonight. From Arcadia. And coming to get me.”

  “Oh,” Juniper said softly, and he braced himself for her disappointment. Instead, she only said, “Thank God.”

  “What?” Ethan turned to her.

  “Ethan,” she said, leaning forward in the chair, “I’m so worried about you. Like, more than you could ever imagine, probably. I have been all along, but after the other night—” She shook her head. “I don’t want you to leave, obviously. I wish you could stay forever. I wish summer could just go on and on and on.”

  Ethan imagined this: a life of biking through the forest, swimming in the lake, rolling down Alligator Hill. He wished it could be real.

  “More than that, though, I want you to be happy,” Juniper
went on. “And safe. Especially safe. And you’re not safe here. I don’t really see another way.”

  Ethan looked at her across the room, her chin in her hands and her blue eyes wide. She looked sad, but certain, and he nodded.

  “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Me neither.”

  “When will he be here?”

  “In five days.”

  She nodded slowly. “All right, then. Five days. We’ll make the most of it.”

  “I can’t.” Ethan shook his head. “I’m not allowed to go outside.” He looked past Juniper to Aunt Cara, who was in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.

  “We’ll make the most of it,” Juniper repeated firmly. “If you don’t think I know how to have fun inside, I’ll be seriously offended.”

  For what felt like the first time in days, Ethan cracked a smile. “All right, you’ve got me there.”

  “I’ll start planning.” She leaned back in the chair again, closing her eyes.

  Ethan snorted. “What are you doing?”

  “Be quiet! I’m planning.”

  And sure enough, Juniper opened her eyes several minutes later with a full list of activities. Card games, puzzles, painting lessons, handstand contests, dance parties—she had enough to fill a whole other summer. Ethan smiled, watching her rattle on. He couldn’t wait to go; couldn’t wait to breathe easy again. And yet—seeing Juniper, hair in her face, eyes bright, he wished that he could stay.

  Twenty-One

  It was the night of the fifth day after the cross burning. That was how Ethan counted time now—before and after the Klan came to town. In just three days, his dad would pull up outside in his Mercury. Ethan had packed his few belongings, which waited neatly on the floor of his room. Juniper had helped, in between orchestrating games and competitions in Aunt Cara’s living room. She’d left that night, in fact, after staying for dinner and leading a lively game of charades that even his aunt and uncle had participated in.