The Trouble with Emily Dickinson

by Lyndsey D'Arcangelo

  “Totally,” Kendal teased.

  JJ shifted her backpack from her left to her right shoulder. “So, I’ll meet you out here after I get out of practice?”

  “How about I meet you in the school lounge instead? We could walk over from there.”

  “Sure, that’ll work.”

  “Catch you later,” Kendal said casually, and clicked the roof of her mouth with her tongue.

  “Yeah, later,” JJ managed as she watched Kendal walk down the cement path and through the front door of her dorm. She raised her hands and rubbed them against her eyes before she silently cursed into the crisp, fall air.

  What in the world was she getting herself into?

  * * *

  Once in the confines of the dorm, Kendal closed the door behind her without looking back. She was fearful that if JJ even glimpsed over her shoulder, she would know. She would instantly sense what Kendal was feeling.

  She collapsed backward against the closed door, her backpack pressed tightly against her chest. The poem she read in JJ’s journal was still fresh in her mind, and it was the only thing she had thought about during the entire walk home.

  She breathed hard and her hands shook. She hadn’t felt like this since the time she kissed Bobby Jenkins in sixth grade behind the jungle gym at the school playground.

  Yet, this was no boy she was getting all worked up over. Her entire body trembled and shivered with confusion. Was this it? Was this the feeling of a “wild night?”

  She sighed. Somehow, she managed to peel herself away from the door and headed down the hallway to her room, still lost in a dizzy haze, counting down the days in her head until she’d see JJ again.

  CHAPTER 14

  “What on earth are you smiling about?” Christine asked as Kendal entered their room.

  “Nothing,” Kendal replied quickly. She tried desperately to wipe the smile from her face, but it seemed to be permanently cemented there.

  Christine returned her attention to her iPhone, apparently not amused. “I’ve been texting you all night. How come you didn’t respond?”

  “I was studying, remember? I couldn’t exactly play with my cell phone the entire time.”

  “I guess. How was the library?”

  “Oh, very interesting,” Kendal answered. The thought of Kyan the couch monster hulking over her made her cringe. “I had an uninvited visitor.”

  “Really? Who?”

  “Don’t play innocent, Christine. Kyan came bustling in and asked me to the exclusive soccer party next weekend, as if I’d somehow be privileged to be his date.”

  Christine’s head shot up. “Tell me you said yes!”

  “I said ‘no’, I’m afraid,” Kendal replied, with satisfaction.

  “You didn’t!”

  “I did.”

  “Are you nuts? It’s invite-only, Kendal!”

  “I couldn’t care less. Besides, I already have plans.”

  “Let me guess, more tutoring?”

  “Not exactly,” Kendal said, smiling again. “Just something different.”

  Christine gasped. “You’re going to a gay club, aren’t you?”

  “What? No, I’m not going to a gay club.”

  “She’s turning you into a lesbian, isn’t she?” Christine was up off her bed, pacing frantically around the room.

  Kendal watched her in amusement. “Will you relax?” she said. “I’m not turning into a lesbian, so quit freaking out.”

  Christine grabbed hold of Kendal’s shoulders and held on to them tightly. “You just passed on an invitation to one of the hottest parties of the year. Your senior year, Kendal? Please tell me you’re delirious, or that you’ve suddenly caught amnesia.”

  Kendal shook free of Christine’s grip and flopped down on her bed. “I don’t have amnesia and I’m not delirious. I’m just—don’t you ever get sick of it?”

  “Sick of what?”

  “Sick of the soccer parties, the superficial status, the empty conversations, the whole thing?”

  “Why on earth would I be sick of it?” Christine asked in disbelief. “This is what going to a private school like Sampson is all about. I’m getting my fill because next year I’ll be working my butt off at college, paying rent for some crappy apartment, and figuring out what in the world I want to do with the rest my life.”

  “I get it,” Kendal said and flopped down on her back. “I understand all about the high school experience. I just think I’ve gotten my fill already. I’m ready to start figuring out who I am. I’m ready to grow up a little bit. Is that so hard to understand?”

  Christine folded her arms across her chest, “Are you taking some philosophy course this semester that I don’t know about?”

  Kendal plucked a stuffed teddy bear off the side of her bed that she’d owned since she was five, and shoved its tiny head into her mouth. Then she screamed in muffled frustration.

  “Something is seriously going on with you,” Christine observed. She sat down on the bed next to Kendal and gently removed the bear from her mouth. “He genuinely likes you, you know?”

  “Who?”

  “Kyan. He came here before I sent him to the library telling me how much he really likes you and how he wanted to ask you to the party so that he could get to know you better. That’s the only reason I told him where you were.”

  “All he wants to know is how my body looks without any clothes on,” Kendal said bitterly. “And then show me off like a trophy around school.”

  “Okay, I admit that Kyan doesn’t have the greatest history when it comes to dating girls at school. But, that being said, he seemed really interested in you as a person. Doesn’t that intrigue you in the least?”

  “Not in the least,” Kendal returned. “Like I said, I have plans.”

  “To do what?”

  “To do something else.”

  “What is it, some top-secret mission that you can’t share with me? Who are you, Bat Woman?” Christine threw Kendal’s bear down on the bed. It bounced near the edge and rolled over onto the floor. “I’m supposedly your best friend.”

  “Why are you so interested in my plans anyway?”

  “Because, I want to know what could possibly be better than an invite-only soccer party with a bevy of frosty beverages and yours truly?”

  To some degree Kendal understood why Christine was getting so upset. But after three years of doing the same thing over and over again, she downright craved something different.

  “There’s this poetry contest at that little coffee shop in town that I want to go to.”

  “Poetry?”

  “Yes.”

  Christine chewed on the tip of her tongue before she flung her hands up and shrieked, “Seriously, Kendal?”

  “What is the big deal? Is it really that terrible that I want to culture myself just a little bit?”

  Christine sucked in a short breath. “Fine. Do your little poetry thingy. Culture yourself and all that mess. But make room for a little fun and excitement, will you? I’m sure it doesn’t last all night. You can just text me when it’s finished, and come meet us after. Deal?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Kendal, please? It’s our last year together. It would mean a lot to me.”

  “Okay.” Kendal gave up. She hated being put on the spot, especially by Christine, whose giant sapphire eyes reminded her of a child on the verge of a tantrum.

  “Yes!” Christine flung herself forward and wrapped her arms around Kendal. “You won’t regret it! It’s going to be so much fun!”

  Right, Kendal thought. She was already regretting it because now she had to find Kyan the couch monster, and tell him that she would like to be his invite at the party on Friday after all.

  Of course, she would have to lay down some very strict ground rules. Unfortunately, Kendal didn’t think that would keep Kyan from trying to make a move on her.

  * * *

  JJ was in the school lounge sitting on one of the itchy cushioned chairs that w
as spacious enough to seat three people happily. She was sprawled out with her legs hanging over the sides, and her head resting comfortably on the opposite arm. Sitting nearly upside down, she held her journal tight against her legs while she scribbled intensely against the page. Her headphones were plastered to her ears, blaring music so deafening that she couldn’t possibly hear if anybody walked by.

  She’d just written another poem. It had been fresh on her mind when she’d left Kendal in front of the dorm, and she’d wanted to write it down before she forgot it. The halfway point to her dorm was the school lounge, which now was comfortably deserted.

  Since it was Sunday night, everyone was either watching television in their dorm rooms or in the library doing homework. As for those few students who took to partying no matter what day of the week it was, the last place they would care to go was the school lounge.

  JJ reread the words she’d just scrawled onto the page.

  “Lately I find

  My heart and my mind disagree

  One so rational, the other so free

  One that has been broken, but continues to heal

  The other unspoken, thankful it can’t feel

  Different entities, yet tied so tight

  Both content to do what is right

  But how can they both agree

  On a concept that historically

  Has caused them to clash?

  Lashing out feelings and thoughts

  One ought to be felt and not heard

  The other mentally spews words

  Both causing a tornado to spin me around

  Do I follow the cloud?

  Or keep my feet firmly planted on the ground

  An everlasting debate for all of time

  Do I follow my heart?

  Or do I fol . . .”

  Before JJ could finish the last line, somebody tore the journal from her hands. She stared in awe as Queenie began to dance around the chair with the notebook dangling from her fingers. Her mouth was moving, but because JJ had her headphones turned up so loud, she couldn’t hear what Queenie was saying.

  JJ struggled to untwist herself, finally rolling over onto the floor. She tore her headphones from her ears only to hear Queenie reciting the new poem in a very obnoxious, fake Shakespearian voice. JJ glowered at her and climbed to her feet. The chair was the only thing that separated them.

  “Give it back,” she demanded.

  “Do I follow the cloud?” Queenie read, gesturing upward dramatically.

  “I said give it back!”

  “Or keep my feet firmly planted?” Queenie stomped.

  “Queenie!” JJ took off around the chair, chasing Queenie through the lounge. Somehow Queenie managed to keep reading the poem as she ran, determined to keep out of JJ’s reach.

  “AN EVERLASTING—” she bellowed, as she ducked around a couch and then hopped up on a table as if it were a stage.

  JJ stood before her, panting like a rabid dog. She reached over and tugged on Queenie’s pant leg.

  Queenie stared down at her. “Excuse me. I’m in the middle of a performance here. Do you mind?”

  “Give it back,” JJ pleaded.

  “Autographs will be available afterwards in the lobby, thank you.” Queenie shook her leg free of JJ’s grip. Then she put one foot graciously in front of the other and regained her stance. Her free hand reached high into the air as she angled her face to the make-believe crowd. “An everlasting debate for all of time,” she roared. “Do I follow my heart? Or do I fol—? Or do I follow my mind? Is that what you were going to write?”

  “Yes,” JJ whispered miserably.

  “Do I follow my heart! Or do I follow my mind!” yelled Queenie. When she finished the last word, she bowed her head to an imaginary array of applause.

  “Are you through embarrassing me?”

  “I think so,” said Queenie, tossing the journal to JJ. She hopped off the table and straightened her shirt.

  “You know,” JJ gritted her teeth. “Sometimes words fail to describe the distaste I have for you.”

  “Please. You’re a poet.” Queenie patted her confidently on the back. “I’m sure you could think of a few.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I was bored, so I came looking for you. You weren’t in the library so this was my next best guess.”

  “You are a true detective.”

  Queenie pointed to the journal, “Was that little poem there about the homecoming queen?”

  “No.”

  “No?”

  “Well, maybe a little bit. But it’s a more general pondering than anything else.”

  “You’re really conflicted, aren’t you?”

  JJ gave Queenie the harshest look she could muster.

  “And you don’t really want to talk about it either?”

  “No, I don’t,” said JJ as she walked over to the chair she’d been sitting in and picked up her book bag from the floor. “Don’t you have homework to do or something?”

  “Finished it,” Queenie said proudly.

  “You amaze me.”

  Queenie was one of those annoyingly gifted people who hardly ever studied yet seemed to retain information almost instantly after reading something only once. JJ believed that Queenie might have a photographic memory or something. And despised her for it.

  “You up for an adventure?”

  “Depends. Is this so-called adventure going to get me into trouble?”

  Queenie pressed her palm to her chest innocently. “I resent that.”

  “Spare me the theatrics. What did you have in mind?”

  “A certain woman sent me a text about an hour ago asking me to meet her at a certain club at a certain time. I told her I’d be there with a certain friend of mine.”

  “Does this certain woman happen to be the twenty-something college student who looks to you for a little excitement in an otherwise dull existence?”

  Queenie grinned widely.

  “You know,” JJ flung her backpack over her shoulders, “for someone who is constantly giving me advice on my love life, you really aren’t doing too well in that particular area yourself.”

  “Me? I do all right.”

  “You date women who aren’t interested in relationships.”

  “And the problem is?”

  “The problem is that you deserve better than that,” JJ said plainly.

  “I’m not looking for better right now,” Queenie said, as they walked out of the school lounge and onto the fading green lawn that led directly to their dormitory. “I’m in the prime of my life and I’m not into that hopeless romantic stuff like you are.”

  “You’re into empty relationships instead? Sounds so appealing.”

  “It is, actually, when you compare it with your current dilemma.”

  “My dilemma?”

  “Yes. The hopeless romantic never wins, my friend. Take, for example, your current situation. You’re into someone you can’t have, and you are in so much turmoil over it that you had to write a poem about it in order to make yourself feel better.”

  “That’s not why I wrote that poem.”

  “No?”

  “No,” JJ maintained. “I wrote it for the simple pleasure of creative expression.”

  “Please.” Queenie immediately stopped walking, tossed her head back and pretended to laugh. “I know she’s all you have been thinking about since you met her.”

  “Oh, really?”

  They began to walk again.

  “JJ, it’s so obvious. When you do something, you do it one hundred percent. And obsessing over straight girls is something you do best.”

  “Thanks,” JJ said, sourly.

  “With the women I see, there’s none of that. No room to analyze or obsess.” Queenie placed her hands forward in the air, palms down and swept them to one side. “Just get in, get out and nobody gets hurt. Get it?”

  “You make it sound like a bank robbery.”

  They reached the concrete path th
at lead up to the steps of their dorm.

  “So, you in?” Queenie asked.

  “I guess,” JJ said. A night out with Queenie always proved to be a good distraction from reality. “Is anyone else coming?”

  “I’ll see if Alex and Sarah are up to it.”

  Alex and Sarah were JJ’s suitemates, and also members of the basketball team. Alex was gay and Sarah was straight, but that never deterred her from going out to a gay club. In fact, Sarah seemed to have more gay friends than straight friends, which considerably hindered her odds of finding a suitable romantic companion.

  Queenie claimed that Sarah was just in denial and that someday she’d realize that she was, in fact, an actual lesbian, and would eventually come over to the dark side. Queenie liked to refer to the gay community as the dark side because it got under her parents’ skin.

  “Want to call the cheerleading queen to see if she would like to go as well?”

  “Yeah, I’m going to pass on that one,” JJ replied dryly. She wasn’t about to tell Queenie that she already had a tentative date with Kendal next Friday night. It wasn’t even a date for that matter. Just a cup of coffee, really.

  “What are you smiling about?” Queenie asked, sensing JJ was hiding something.

  “Nothing,” JJ said. “Nothing at all.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Kendal walked along the sidewalk to the building where all the soccer players lived. It was located on the opposite end of the school from her dorm and close to the edge of the campus. The school administration gave the soccer team a lot more leeway than they did other students. They knew all about the soccer parties and celebrations, but chose to look the other way since Sampson Academy had won the state championship three years in a row. Anybody else who dared to throw a party risked getting caught and being suspended or thrown out of school. It’s amazing the freedom a winning record could buy you.

  Kendal entered the dorm on a mission to find Kyan and tell him that she would go to his stupid party next Friday night after all, but not before Christine had called ahead to inform Jason that Kendal was on her way. Kyan and Jason were roommates.