“You and me both,” said Kendal. She was sitting up now, trying to make sense of what was happening. “Why were you looking for me? I thought you didn’t want to have anything to do with me anymore?”
“I think I made a huge mistake,” JJ said as she inched closer to the bed. “May I?”
Kendal nodded and JJ sat down beside her.
“I was in town earlier, and I ran into Kyan Stevens.”
“That is a mistake,” Kendal snickered. “And, just for the record, I prefer to call him Kyan the couch monster.”
“Well, the couch monster informed me that he followed you the other night when you asked me to meet you under the scorers’ box.”
“That he did.”
“And that you basically told him to get lost.”
“That I did.”
“Only, it looked much different through my eyes.”
“What do you mean, through your eyes?”
JJ sighed as if she were about to confess to committing a horrible crime. “I mean that I did show up that night, only I showed up right when you were giving Kyan a lecture. And, through my eyes, it looked as though you were about to give him a kiss.”
“What?” Kendal flinched, and made a face. “I wouldn’t kiss him even if he were the last man on earth. Unlike Mya, I’m not captivated by his washboard abs.”
“Mya likes Kyan?”
“That’s beside the point.” Kendal smacked JJ lightly on the shoulder. “I can’t believe you thought that I would do that.”
“I didn’t know what to think,” JJ insisted. “I just saw what I saw and ran.”
“You could have said something,” Kendal told her.
“I know—but I was angry and hurt and—I don’t know.”
“Didn’t Queenie tell you that I—”
“She did. I guess I didn’t really believe it.”
Kendal slid her hand on top of JJ’s and squeezed it gently. “All I wanted was a chance to explain myself.”
“How about now?” JJ’s eyes were focused on their linked hands. “You can explain everything to me now.”
“That depends,” Kendal said dryly. She stood up and began to pace around the room.
“Depends on what?”
“On whether or not you’re ready to listen.”
“Oh, I’m ready.” JJ hurried up from the bed and spread her arms wide. “Whatever you have to say, I’ll listen. We can talk here or we can talk at the school lounge. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll just close my mouth and lock away the key and listen quietly.”
“I was thinking we could go to the library,” said Kendal. “Maybe do a little studying.”
“Studying?”
“Yeah. It’s been a couple of weeks since I brushed up on Emily Dickinson.” She picked up her volume of poetry and held it in the air. “There’s this one poem I can’t get out of my head. Maybe you can help me make sense of it?”
“I can do my best.”
“Come on,” Kendal said. She took JJ by the arm and dragged her from the room.
* * *
Three notable moments throughout JJ’s time at Sampson Academy stood out in her mind. Each was notable for a different reason, each forever confined to a special spot in the corner of her memory for safekeeping until she decided to revisit it.
The first was the day she met Queenie. They had both arrived a week early, before classes began, to get acclimated with the campus during orientation.
In a desperate attempt to delay the final moment in which he would be forced to let her go, JJ’s father helped her unpack every last thing she’d brought with her, right down to her socks. While they were busy getting her room set up, in walked Queenie McBride with her parents in tow. She mouthed off to her mother and ordered her father around like he was a butler.
JJ’s father had raised an eyebrow or two in her direction, silently expressing his distaste for Queenie’s attitude. He had even offered to talk to the Dean of Students, and request a roommate change. But JJ resisted. There was something about Queenie that caused JJ to look past her salty exterior. Perhaps it was the air of confidence she exuded. Or maybe it was the charismatic grin she displayed as she flopped on JJ’s freshly made bed, tossed JJ’s basketball high up in the air and said simply, “You must be the incredibly talented Josephine Jenkins I’ve heard so much about.”
“That’s right,” JJ had said.
“Thought so,” said Queenie. She then tossed the ball to JJ and added, “I’m Queenie McBride, the one and only. We’re going to take this school by storm, you know that?”
At that moment, all of JJ’s fears and worries melted away. She’d been experiencing severe bouts of anxiety in the weeks leading up to her first day at Sampson, and nothing her parents said or did could ease her mind. Somehow, Queenie had been able to do just that with one simple sentence. But it wasn’t just what she said; it was how she said it. She exuded such an air of confidence that JJ had no choice but to believe her. They were going to take the campus by storm, and nothing could stop them.
The two became inseparable after that, with JJ soon finding that Queenie’s spoiled-brat routine was nothing more than a carefully crafted act, performed only when her parents were around.
Queenie also had been instrumental in helping JJ come out of the closet.
“I knew you belonged to the dark side the first day I met you,” she eventually told JJ.
It took JJ a second or two to realize Queenie wasn’t referring to Star Wars. As uncomfortable as the assumption made her, JJ didn’t dare deny it, and instead embraced her sexuality for the very first time in her life. The day she’d met Queenie, her life was forever changed. And that was a moment worth remembering.
The second notable moment happened during JJ’s junior year, when the Lady Yellow Jackets went undefeated, making it to the state championships. The championship game went into double overtime, and ended in dramatic fashion when JJ, who had broken free from the defense under the basket, made a game-winning turn-around jumper just as time expired. Time paused as the rest of their team flooded the court, chasing her down, and tackling her to the floor.
JJ was absolutely thrilled to be right in the middle of the fray and at the bottom of the pile, since she’d made the winning basket. It was a high unlike anything she had ever experienced before, such exhilaration that she wondered if she would ever feel it again. Just reminiscing about the moment made her hair stand on end with excitement.
The third notable moment hadn’t quite happened yet. But JJ had a feeling it was about to unfold right before her eyes. Once Kendal looped her arm through JJ’s and walked in step with her across the school grounds, JJ knew something incredible was about to happen. And she wanted to make sure she logged every second of it into her memory. Just as she could recall the smell of the scuffed hardwood as she lay beneath the pile of players after they had won the championship game, she knew the smell of Kendal’s almond hand lotion would forever be linked with whatever was about to happen next.
CHAPTER 36
JJ opened the library door. A couple of players on the boys’ basketball team were leaving the library at the exact same time, and as they stepped aside they studied Kendal oddly when she took hold of JJ’s hand.
“Are you trying to cause a scene?” JJ asked, once they were inside.
“I’m just having a little fun,” Kendal replied. “Besides, staring is rude.”
“Doesn’t bother me much,” said JJ. “I’m obviously used to it by now.”
“I don’t see what the big deal is, you know? Two girls holding hands, and all.”
“Oh, so you’re telling me you’re completely fine with it now?”
Kendal rounded a corner, and began to walk up a flight of stairs backwards, facing JJ who lagged behind her. “I’m learning as I go along,” she said, with a playful smile.
“As you go along with what?”
“As I go along with us.” Kendal skipped up the last few steps and disappeared from view.
> When JJ reached the landing, her heart sped up excitedly. She scanned the second floor quickly, trying to see through rows and rows of bookshelves as if she had X-ray vision. As she made her way toward the biographies section, she saw Kendal waiting patiently in front of one of the study rooms with a single key dangling off the end of her pinky.
“You don’t want to sit at a table?” JJ asked, eyeing the key.
“This kind of studying needs to be done in private,” Kendal replied.
JJ gulped, and desperately tried to calm her nerves. She watched with anticipation as Kendal unlocked the door to the study room and pushed it open. The room was no bigger than a closet, seating three or four people at the most. A single oak table with attached benches stood in the center. The walls were soundproof, and there was no window except for the one on the door. Because of the type of seclusion they provided, study rooms had to be signed up for and reserved in advanced.
During exams, they were extremely hard to come by. Student library assistants were often bribed in exchange for direct access to study rooms. And since exams were right around the corner, JJ had to ask.
“Where did you get that?”
“What?” Kendal played with the key. “This?” She held it up.
“Yes, that.”
“I have my ways.”
“Oh, really?”
Kendal shook her head and laughed. “Relax,” she said. “One of the library assistants is on the cheerleading squad. All I had to do was ask her for a room and she saved me a key.”
“Cheerleading connections. I should have known.”
Kendal closed the door and sat down at the table with the Emily Dickinson book spread out in front of her.
JJ remained standing, not sure whether she should sit down next to Kendal or across from her. She decided to test the waters first. “What did you mean back on the steps, when you said you’re learning as you go along?”
“This whole thing is new to me,” said Kendal. “It’s a learning process.”
“What whole thing exactly?” JJ pressed.
Kendal shot her a look, “I thought you said you were ready to listen.”
“I am.”
“Well, I don’t see you listening. All I see you doing is talking.”
“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on here, that’s all.”
“Sit down, JJ,” Kendal ordered. She patted the open seat next to her, and then turned her attention to the book on the table. She pointed at the cover, “I used to hate her, you know?”
“Who?” JJ asked as she slid onto the bench. “Emily Dickinson?”
“Yes,” Kendal sighed. “She used to torment me at night. I’d see her sitting there on my desk in the morning, waiting for me to lug her to class. It was like she was this reminder of everything I wanted to ignore.” She looked up at JJ. “Everything that was right in front of me.”
JJ could feel the sweat forming on her palms. When Kendal looked at her that way, it knocked the breath straight out of her. “I know I’m supposed to be listening,” she managed. “But, can I ask you just one question?”
“I suppose.”
“Did you have—at anytime were you interested—” JJ’s voice trailed off, her nerves getting the better of her.
“Interested in you?” Kendal finished.
JJ nodded, unable to speak.
“The interest never went away,” Kendal confessed. “The only difference is that I’m not afraid of it anymore.”
“So what happened the night you stood me up?”
Kendal reached over and tapped JJ gently on the ear. “Remember how you’re supposed to be listening?”
“Oh—right,” said JJ as she sat back quietly.
Kendal returned her attention to the book in front of her. As she flipped intently through the pages of Emily Dickinson’s poetry, she knew exactly what poem and page she was looking for. Page 152. How could she forget it? The poem rang through her ears whenever JJ was around. It had been there from the beginning and it was there that day under the weeping willow, when she’d been trying to make sense of everything that was happening around her.
“I was so confused,” Kendal began. “You were so unexpected and at the same time you were everything I had been looking for. Only, you’re a girl and that complicated things. I didn’t understand how another girl could be making me feel something I had never felt before. But it wasn’t just the feelings. It was the way I started questioning everything else around me. It was the way I started looking at my friends differently. Everything that had made perfect sense to me before, suddenly made no sense at all. And I didn’t know how to deal with the feelings.”
Kendal sighed again as she ran her fingers over the words of the poem in front of her.
“I didn’t realize what was happening until Christine lied to me about how everyone at school was talking about me, and assuming things because I was hanging out with you. She said that everyone on the squad complained about how different I’d become and that if I wanted to remain on the squad and not ruin my reputation I had to stop hanging out with you. That’s why I stood you up. That’s why I avoided you. I didn’t want to stop seeing you but at the same time I didn’t want to lose my friends and everything I had built at Sampson over the past few years. It wasn’t until I read this poem again that I knew that my heart had already made up its mind. And that I didn’t want to stop seeing you, no matter what anyone else thought.”
JJ scanned the poem and smiled as she read the familiar Dickinson poem silently.
WILD nights! Wild nights!
“I finally get it,” said Kendal softly. “I finally get the meaning behind it. The feelings I have whenever I’m around you are my own ‘wild nights.’ I don’t care what anyone thinks anymore, not my friends, not the squad, and especially not Christine. All I know is that I want to be around you. I don’t need a compass and I don’t need a chart, because my heart knows exactly what it wants. And that’s you.”
JJ opened her mouth to respond but nothing came out.
“You don’t have to say anything,” said Kendal. “I just wanted you to know how I really felt about you, and how you helped me change my perspective.” She pointed to the page, “And why this poem means so much more to me than Dickinson could have ever imagined.”
“I think you’re giving me way too much credit,” said JJ, still unable to look Kendal in the eyes.
“I knew you were going to say that,” said Kendal. “You are way too humble, you know that?”
“It’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“You once said that the trouble with Emily Dickinson is that she writes so ambiguously, and that her words aren’t supposed to be taken so literally. But that isn’t the case. The trouble with Emily Dickinson is that she knew exactly what I was thinking and feeling, even when I didn’t know myself.”
Kendal reached over and lifted JJ’s face to hers so that they were eye to eye. “The trouble with Emily Dickinson is that she turned my world upside down the day she brought me to you.”
She didn’t wait for JJ to respond this time. Instead, she seized the moment, leaned in and kissed JJ directly on the lips. It took JJ less than a second to realize that she wasn’t dreaming and she welcomed Kendal’s soft lips with each kiss that followed, each one growing more intense than the last and tasting ever as sweet.
***
Later, when JJ was lying in bed that night, still wired from the nervous electricity flowing through her entire body after kissing THE Kendal McCarthy, she silently thanked God for Emily Dickinson at least a hundred times before she finally fell asleep.
CHAPTER 37
JJ was resting on her stomach, sprawled out on her unmade bed with books, scattered papers, and worn folders spread out in front of her. She had taken three of her four exams so far and felt confident that she’d done well on all of them. The last and most daunting of them all was scheduled for later on in the evening, and it was hardly an exam.
If JJ
could study for it, she would. But how can you study for a poetry reading? The worst thing anyone could do is panic, which she already was an expert at.
The night JJ had been dreading for almost the entire semester was upon her. The poem that Mrs. Clark had selected for her to read aloud was sitting to her left on a stark-white sheet of paper. JJ had scribbled notes in between the lines of the poem to indicate where she should pause or add a slight inflection to her voice. She had gone over it again and again, so much so that the words were now imprinted on the inside of her forehead. When she closed her eyes, she could read them as they floated by.
“Caramel latte with an extra shot of confidence,” said Queenie as she slammed the door shut behind her with the heel of her sneaker. “Just what the doctor ordered.”
“Thanks.” JJ reached for the cup in sheer desperation, as if Queenie somehow had just unearthed an elixir to cure stage fright. “I need it.”
“It’s my pleasure,” Queenie said, sipping from her own Styrofoam cup. “I swear—if I have to answer one more question on supply and demand, I’m going to lose it.”
“I don’t think you’ll be running into any economic questions at the poetry reading.”
“Thank God for that.”
JJ marveled at Queenie, whose desk remained devoid of second-hand notes and worn textbooks.
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“Pass all of your exams without ever taking a single note or cracking open a textbook?”
“I don’t know,” Queenie said honestly. “I just can.” She hopped up on JJ’s bed, scattering notes and papers everywhere. “It’s sort of like the way you can just write. And the way some musicians can just play an instrument by ear. We’re naturally gifted. What else can I say?”
“What’s your gift? A photographic memory?”
“I prefer to consider myself a genius at large.”
“You would.”
The Trouble with Emily Dickinson Page 19