“Will you come with me?”
“I don’t think you should go,” Blister says. We’re sitting on our steps, aiming stones at the triangle of old cans we’ve set up.
“Why?” I’ve had a strange feeling in my stomach since I got the invitation. I can’t tell whether it’s excitement, or whether I’m scared.
“You don’t think it’s a bit weird? That they’re suddenly inviting you to a party?”
“It’s not them. It’s Cassandra. She’s not really part of that group. She’s just always kind of ignored me.”
“That makes her OK, then?” Blister pulls his arm back and throws a stone hard. He knocks the top can clean off.
“So you won’t come with me?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said I don’t think you should go.”
“Jennifer says we should always give people a chance to change.”
“People like Ryan are never going to change.”
“It’s not Ryan’s party.” I’ve never felt really angry with Blister, but it’s scratching at me now. I want him to be happy for me. I want him to say that maybe things will start to change. Things will get better.
The stone I throw is big, but it misses the cans completely.
“I’ll come,” Blister says. “If you’re going to go, I’ll come with you.”
“Really?”
“Of course. I’m not going to let you go there on your own.”
I lean over and kiss him on the lips, but he seems sad and doesn’t kiss me back.
“It’ll be good, I promise,” I tell him, and lean my head on his shoulder.
I see the invitation in my mind, my name at the top. I’ll turn up at Cassandra’s house with Blister and everything will change. I’ll look pretty and I’ll be there with a boyfriend and everyone will step back and let us walk through and then they’ll all want to talk to us. They’ll all want to be our friends.
With one stone, Blister sends the rest of the cans clattering to the ground.
•••
“You look beautiful,” Kathleen says. I stay sitting in the chair, my dad in the armchair opposite. He puts his newspaper down and looks up at me.
He smiles. “You really do.”
Kathleen has spent the last half hour straightening my hair. I’ve hated every second of it.
“Do you want to see?” she asks. She puts down the straightening irons and comes around the front to look at me.
“You look really pretty, June,” Megan says. She’s been patiently watching, her face clear and innocent, but I know what she’s really thinking.
Kathleen takes the mirror from the mantelpiece and holds it in front of me.
I look strange. My curls have gone. I have this long, straight black hair. I want to hate it, because Kathleen has done it.
“Thank you,” I say flatly, and get up. “I’d better go, or I’ll be late.”
“Are you sure I can’t drive you?” my dad asks.
“Jennifer’s dad is happy to,” I lie to him.
“I can take you to their house at least.” My dad folds the paper and puts it on the arm of the chair.
“I’d like to bike,” I say. I go over and give him a kiss to stop him from getting up.
“OK. If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Take your phone and call me if you have trouble getting back.”
“I will.”
“And have a great time,” he says. He looks proud and concerned all rolled into one.
“Have a lovely time, honey,” Kathleen says. She comes toward me and I smell her perfume as she wraps her arms around me. She pulls away and kisses me on the forehead.
I can tell that Megan wants me to say goodbye to her, but I don’t. Instead, I walk away and leave my perfect family watching, as I close the door behind me.
•••
I have to stop the bicycle to pull my skirt tight underneath me. The wind is catching it and I don’t want to show my underwear to the world. I keep touching my hair. It feels so different. I can run my fingers through it and they come straight out the other side.
I’m suddenly scared that they won’t like it. That if Cherry and Lauren are there, they’ll laugh. I’ve spent so long imagining all the good things that will happen when I walk into the party with Blister that I haven’t left room for any bad things. But now they’re trickling in. I pedal faster, because I don’t want them here.
The Wicks’ lane is littered with their things. Chubbers’ plastic push toy is half sticking out of a bush. There’s a bicycle wheel perched at the edge of the lane and a pair of shorts sitting in the path to their front door.
I leave my bike just inside their gate.
I’m nervous. I’m scared of Blister seeing me like this. But I’m so excited too. We’re going out together, me and him. They’ll all wonder where I’ve been hiding my boyfriend.
I smooth down my hair as I walk up the path. Tom opens the door before I even get to it.
“June’s here!” he shouts. He doesn’t even comment on my hair—he just runs off into the kitchen.
Blister walks down the stairs. I know he notices, as soon as he sees me.
“Hey,” he says. He’s wearing a blue T-shirt I haven’t seen before. And his jeans look washed and ironed. He looks great.
He comes to me and kisses me quickly on the lips and we stand just smiling at each other.
“You straightened your hair,” he eventually says.
“Yeah.” I shrug, as though it’s no big deal, but I can’t help touching it.
“It looks nice,” he says, but I can tell he’s not sure.
“Thanks.” Suddenly I want my curls back.
“Dad!” Blister calls. “We’re ready to go.”
“Coming,” his dad replies from somewhere in the house. Blister picks the keys off the hook near the door.
“June,” Mr. Wick says, as he comes rushing in. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“Look at you two,” he says, standing back.
“Come on, Dad,” Blister says. I don’t often see him looking embarrassed and it makes me want to hug him.
The three of us go down the steps and Blister takes my hand as we go out toward the car. I squeeze his fingers and he squeezes mine back. And there’s happiness in my bones. And even if the party isn’t great, if people aren’t kind, I know that this happiness is a part of me now and no one can take it away.
Blister and I sit together in the back seat and he reaches over to hold my hand again. I look out the window at the fields disappearing past, but all I can think about is Blister’s skin touching mine.
“Still OK for me to pick you up at midnight?” Mr. Wick asks.
“That’d be great,” Blister says.
“And that’s definitely all right with your dad?” Mr. Wick catches my eye in the rearview mirror.
“He’s fine with that,” I reply. I take my hair and pull it over one shoulder. It lies flat against my top. If I look down, I can just see the tips of it. It looks a bit like the ends of frayed material.
Blister squeezes my hand and I glance up at him. He smiles and nods at me.
“You’ll be fine,” he says. “We both will.”
It hadn’t crossed my mind that he might be nervous too. He pushes his glasses up a bit as he looks out the window on my side. I’ve closed it. The rushing air was making my eyes water and I don’t want to go into the party looking like I’ve been crying.
After a while, Mr. Wick turns the car into a road with big houses. They have wide, open front yards.
“What number is it again?” Mr. Wick asks over his shoulder. I look at the invitation, although I already know.
“Sixteen,” I say. “Sixteen Cranberry Close.”
The number out my window is twenty-seven. Mr. Wick slows the car right down, before he pulls up outside a house with white siding. Its front lawn is so neat that the grass looks painted on.
“Sixteen,” Mr. Wick says. “Th
is is it.”
I wish my heart would stop beating so fast, but even Blister’s hand in mine won’t stop it. I let out a deep breath. I’m not sure I want to be here. I don’t think I want to go in. I’d like Mr. Wick to just turn his car around before anyone sees and take us back to the safety of their house.
“We can do this,” Blister says. He smiles, but his dimples hardly show.
“Sure you can,” Mr. Wick says. He turns right around to look at us and leans his elbow into the seat’s headrest. “You’ll have a great time.”
“Ready?” Blister asks.
“Ready.” But I’m not. I never will be.
“OK.” He starts to get out of the car, but I hold tight onto his hand and want to pull him back.
“You’ll be fine, June,” Mr. Wick says gently. “Blister will look out for you. I’ll wait here until you’re safely inside.”
I look toward the house and then to Blister. I know I have to do this. It’ll be OK. It might even be the beginning of things changing for the better.
I get out of the car and smooth down my skirt.
“You look great,” Blister says, and he kisses my forehead.
Together, we walk up the path to the house. I hope Blister can’t feel my palm sweating on his. As he knocks on the door, I look back at Mr. Wick. He waves. Blister presses his thumb onto the bell.
It’s very quiet.
The door eventually opens. An old woman is standing here. Her hair is pulled back, with wisps of white breaking loose.
“Yes?” she asks.
“We’re here for Cassandra’s party,” Blister says.
“Cassandra?”
“Yes,” I manage.
“I’m sorry, you must have the wrong house.”
Blister steps back and looks at the number next to the door.
“This is sixteen?” he asks.
“Yes. Sixteen Cranberry Close,” she says.
“Does Cassandra live here?” I ask.
“No. Just me and Jesse, my cat.”
“Sorry to disturb you,” Blister says, and he pulls me away from the door and down the steps.
“But I’m sure this was the address,” I say.
“It was.” Blister is staring hard ahead of us. Mr. Wick is in his car, looking confused.
“I’ll check the invitation,” I say. “I must have read it wrong.”
“You didn’t,” Blister says, his voice tight with anger.
“What’s up?” Mr. Wick asks as we get into the back seat.
“It’s the wrong address,” I say, picking up the piece of paper. My name is clearly on it. And so is 16 Cranberry Close. The date is today and we’re right on time.
“Is there another Cranberry Close?” I ask.
“No,” Mr. Wick says. He turns to stare out the front of the car.
I look at the invitation. Maybe I’ve read it wrong. Maybe it got smudged. I look up at Blister for answers. He’s biting the edge of his finger. His eyes look even darker.
“I don’t understand,” I tell him. Although I think I do.
“There is no party,” Blister says quietly. I can tell that he doesn’t want to say it.
“You think so?” I look up toward the silent house.
“I know so,” Blister says. He’s breathing loudly. He looks like he wants to thump the seat in front of him. And then he does, twice, the side of his clenched fist slamming into the headrest. I want to put my hands out to stop him. What if the girls from school are hiding and watching?
“They’re losers,” he says.
And I want to curl into a ball so small that they won’t notice when I slide away. I’ll roll into a gutter and disappear into murky water and no one will ever know.
Blister puts his arm around me and his head against mine, but I don’t want him here. The embarrassment I feel has painted every part of me with shame, and I just want to run away and never look back.
“They’re not worth it,” I hear Mr. Wick say from the front seat. “They’re just nasty little low-lifes and you’re worth a million of them.”
I know it’s not true, though.
And I know that on Monday I’m going to have to face them. All of them, laughing at me. Even Cassandra, who I thought was all right. Who I truly believed was being nice to me and wanting to help change things.
Mr. Wick starts the car. I keep my eyes closed and feel the motion as we turn around. I feel for the window’s handle and roll it down. The sound of the car takes some of it away. The air beats on my face and pushes against my stupid, straight hair.
I quickly turn to Blister.
“I don’t want to go home yet,” I tell him.
“You can come to our house for as long as you want,” Mr. Wick says from the front.
I can’t even bear the thought of walking into their house. Tom’s face all confused when we’re back so early. The pity in Mrs. Wick’s eyes. But I don’t want to take this feeling into our trailers either. I don’t want it anywhere near our place.
“OK,” I say quietly.
If I had a match, I could light this humiliation and burn it up to ashes inside me.
Blister holds my hand tight, but this time nothing can make it better.
Before
two months later
“Left or right?” Blister holds out his folded fists. I touch the right one and he uncurls his fingers. The jagged stone sits in his palm. “Left it is, then.” He pushes up the bottom of the small bag on his back and begins to pedal.
“How’s Tom?” I ask, moving my bike alongside his.
“Not great, but apparently he slept better last night.”
“Can I go visit him?”
“He’s coming home tomorrow.”
“That’s wonderful.”
“With even more pills, though. He’s got seven more days of these ones to keep the infection away.”
“Shall we bake him something nice?” I ask.
“He’d like that.” Blister reaches over to hold my hand. It makes me wobble and I laugh, but he keeps it there.
“Conjoined bikes,” he says.
“That means you’re stuck with me forever,” I remind him.
“That wouldn’t be so bad.” He looks over at me, but it makes his front wheel knock slightly into mine and he grabs both his handlebars to stop himself from falling.
“I don’t think I’ll be joining a circus in a hurry,” he calls over his shoulder as he begins to speed away.
“Stick to being a doctor,” I yell at him, pedaling hard to catch up. He’s too quick, though.
I slow down and look at the fields on either side. There’s a blanket of blue flowers beside me, stretching to the trees.
A car appears in the distance, getting bigger as it moves toward us. Its low hum breaks through the quiet and turns into a rush of engine as it speeds past. I hear it disappearing behind me and imagine it becoming smaller and smaller, until it’s no longer there.
Blister is waiting at the crossroads.
“In your own time,” he says.
“I was admiring the view,” I tell him, and he smiles, his dimples dipping. “I didn’t mean you,” I laugh.
“Oh.”
“Just the general beauty.”
“So it was me, then,” Blister says. I try to hit him on the shoulder, but he moves back, laughing. “Left or right.” He holds his arms out straight.
“It’s my turn.”
“You were too late.”
“That’s not in the rules.”
“Well, I had enough time to rewrite them.”
“That doesn’t seem fair to me,” I say as I point to his right hand. He opens his fingers and his palm is empty.
“Right, then.”
“Can we stop soon?” I ask.
“We haven’t found anywhere good yet.”
“Just for a break.”
“How about two more stones and then if we don’t see anything we’ll stop.”
“Deal,” I say, sitting back on my bike and
starting to pedal.
I’ve got my eyes on the next crossroads, far in the distance, when I hear music from somewhere close by. Blister is biking alongside me, but I don’t think he’s heard it. I slow my bike to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” Blister asks, using his feet to brake.
“Can you hear it?”
“Hear what?”
“Someone’s singing.” We both stand still and listen.
“It’s coming from over there, I reckon.” Blister points to a cluster of thick, squat trees, off in the field next to us.
“Shall we see?” I ask.
“We said two more stones,” Blister reminds me.
“But we found something first.”
“I suppose,” Blister says.
“Someone is playing guitar too.”
I don’t give Blister much choice. I get off my bike and push it off the road, into the bumpy field. I try not to crush too many of the wildflowers, but I know it’s impossible and we can’t just leave our bikes in the middle of the road.
We lay them on top of each other and walk toward the singing trees.
“It sounds like a man,” I whisper. Blister nods, stepping carefully through the long grass.
It’s an old man, sitting alone, his back curved against the trunk of a tree. A guitar is in his hands and sunglasses sit tight across his eyes.
I don’t think he knows we’re here. He’s so deep in his song that his world has shrunk to only music.
It’s been too long since I’ve seen anyone play the guitar. The sound hurts me and I don’t want it to. All I want to feel is that it’s beautiful and I’m here with Blister.
“Who’s there?” The music suddenly stops. The old man looks straight ahead. “Who are you?” He holds his guitar closer to him.
“Hello,” Blister says, and together we walk toward him.
“We just like your music,” I say. The old man’s head turns toward us, but I’m sure he can’t see us. “Would you keep singing?”
“How many of you are there?” he asks.
“Just two. I’m June and this is Blister.”
“What sort of a name is Blister?” The old man’s forehead creases. “What’s your real name?”
“Jacob,” Blister says.
“I’ll call you that, then.”
Blister looks at me and raises his eyebrows. I don’t want to leave here though, not yet.
“What’s your name?” I ask, sitting in the grass next to the old man.
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