by Alana Terry
Kennedy’s body pulled her toward the bed, but she had resolved to stay awake until sunset. She was going to be taking biology and organic chemistry this term, with two afternoons of labs a week. She wasn’t going to start her semester in a half-fog from jetlag.
For students on the pre-med track, the first year was something of a gateway. If you made it through two semesters of general chemistry and didn’t flunk out of lab or get sidetracked by something else like sociology or gender studies, you knew you had it in you to complete your four years of undergrad and fulfill all the prerequisites for medical school. Since she was part of the early admissions program, Kennedy was guaranteed a spot in Harvard Med School after graduating, but she still had to keep up her GPA and complete the same pre-med courses as everyone else. She was looking forward to her Shakespeare class as a nice way to give her mind a break from all the science and lab work she’d be focusing on.
All things considered, she was on the right path for a promising academic career. Professor Adell from her chemistry lab had emailed her over the summer to tell her she was the first student she’d had in over ten years get a hundred percent on her final exam. There was a hint that if Kennedy wanted, Adell could probably find her a position as a TA during her junior or senior year. Her parents had been proud, and her mom had sent out a mass email to all her friends and relatives bragging about Kennedy’s grades. She should be happy. But part of her dreaded going back to campus in four days, dreaded a semester without her best friend at Harvard with her.
She and Reuben had stayed in touch all summer, sometimes video chatting, sometimes texting at all hours of the day or night. She could look forward to long emails from Nairobi just about every day, and they had even started their own informal book club where they took turns recommending their favorite classics to each other and talking by phone each week about what they’d read. All that time together, and it wasn’t until last week that they broached the subject they’d both avoided.
Reuben wasn’t coming back to Harvard. Money was tight. His dad had taken a significant pay cut when the government in Kenya turned over, and the news anchor who broke the story about Reuben’s condition had embarrassed the family enough they probably wouldn’t have sent him back even if they could afford it.
Three whole months Kennedy spent in denial. Three months wishing and praying God would work some miracle to bring Reuben back to Cambridge. Twice she had worked up the nerve to write Carl and Sandy to ask if he could board with them to cut down some of the costs of campus living, but the emails were still sitting in her drafts folder.
It was so weird to think of a semester without him by her side.
She pulled one of her Shakespeare volumes out of her backpack. She knew she’d have to go back and read some of the histories for her class, but right now she wasn’t in the mood for kings and battles. She turned to Othello. Good, but pretty depressing. What about Twelfth Night? That would work out better for an evening like this.
No, not evening. It was the middle of the day. How long would it take for her body to adjust to East Coast time?
She propped the pillows up on her bed so she could lean against the headboard comfortably, and she felt her body relax into a pool of heaviness as she started the first act. If music be the food of love, play on. She could have recited the opening lines from memory if she wanted.
She hadn’t gotten halfway through the second scene when a fog thicker than the storm that broke up Viola and Sebastian’s boat overshadowed her mind, and she plummeted into sleep.
CHAPTER 5
Kennedy stared at the glowing red numbers on the guest room clock for four full minutes before she realized it was ten at night, not morning. Well, at least it wasn’t morning in Medford, Massachusetts. Try telling that to her circadian rhythm, which still thought she was living on the opposite side of the world.
She stared out the window, making out vague outlines lit by distant streetlights. This was ridiculous. She had only come in here to read a little bit and give Carl and the senator a chance to talk in private. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Now it would take that much longer to wrangle her sleep schedule back to East Coast time.
Who wakes up at 10:16 at night? She counted back. Eight hours of sleep, almost to the minute. Her body mocked her with its stubborn adherence to China time. No problem if she were still in Yanji. No problem if she didn’t have three days now to adjust to life in the western hemisphere before jumping headfirst into her second year of undergrad studies.
She had enjoyed her summer so much. Enjoyed the break from school, enjoyed the chance to finally relax. Joking with her dad. Evenings spent watching those stupid cop shows or campy action movies together. Shopping sprees with her mom. Reading for hours in the hammock in her parents’ garden. Three home-cooked meals a day. No papers to turn in, lab reports to write up. She emailed Reuben every morning and sometimes didn’t log onto her computer for the rest of the day.
Summer had flown by. She wasn’t ready for school to start again. Grueling hours in the lab. Midnight snacking on Cheerios and Craisins because she was too busy to eat a real dinner in the cafeteria. If you could call anything the student union served real.
Summer in Yanji had been so stress-free. So uncomplicated. Just Kennedy, her family, her books. Lots of Shakespeare. She had never developed much appreciation for his sonnets but knew she should study up on them for her upcoming class. She still couldn’t say she was a fan, but she felt the sonnets somehow added to his plays, as if in some ways she had gotten to know the bard better through his poetry, which made his drama that much richer.
Now, she frowned at the starless sky. It was stupid to try to get back to sleep. As far as her hypothalamus knew, it was the start of a brand new day. Her stomach was ready for some of her mom’s buttery biscuits, maybe a fresh egg or two. And some fruit. The produce in the Yanji markets would have made most Cambridge residents drool from envy. Dragon fruit, mangoes, passion fruit, it was all there. All fresh and relatively cheap. She had lost five pounds last spring semester but gained it all back with interest in a month thanks to her mom’s cooking back home.
Home? Whatever that meant. She didn’t even know what to tell that French businessman on the airplane when he asked her where she was from. Ten years in Manhattan as a child, but she spent huge chunks of time at her grandma’s in upstate New York. Eight years in Yanji, China, where she grew conversational in Korean instead of Mandarin because of her parents’ ministry to North Korean refugees. And then a year in Cambridge, where other than Reuben and the Lindgrens the only real friend she made was her roommate Willow, a free-living neo-hippy from Never-Heard-of-It, Alaska.
Where was Kennedy from? Little bits of here, little bits of there, but never truly at home anywhere. The Lindgrens’ had felt like home the times she stayed here last year, except now she was obviously out of place. What kind of houseguest goes to sleep at two in the afternoon and wakes up perfectly alert at ten? Her body seemed convinced it was time to jump out of bed and help her dad weed out junk mail at his office or walk the markets with her mom, shopping for ingredients for a huge fresh salad for breakfast.
Breakfast? Yeah, her body was ready for that, too. She glanced at her cell phone. Reuben would probably be waking up right about now. It would be good to hear how he was doing. Let him know she’d arrived here safely. He’d be starting his classes at Nairobi University next week. They would both be busy. What would happen to their relationship then?
She heard a noise coming from the kitchen and figured that if the Lindgrens were still awake, she’d grab a quick snack now instead of bothering the entire house later as they were getting ready to fall asleep. She hadn’t even changed out of her traveling clothes. That would be the next step after breakfast: shower and change. She didn’t know what it was, but something about flying always made her feel grungy and gross. Of course, that could just as easily be explained by the fact that she’d worn the same clothes for the past day and a half, but she was pre
tty sure there was more to it. Something about sitting in the same seat that thousands of other international commuters had used over the years, next to so many strangers whose personal hygiene habits could only be guessed at. She wished she still had those homeopathic throat lozenges her roommate Willow gave her at the end of last semester. They were supposed to come packed with a plethora of insanely efficient immunity enhancers. Kennedy would be happy for any boost she could get right about now. Who knew how many contagions she had breathed in while she flew around the world?
She crept out of bed and opened the guest room door, making as little noise as possible in case Carl and Sandy really had fallen asleep. She wasn’t sure how heavy of a dozer Woong was either and found herself wondering what it must have been like for Carl and Sandy while they all adjusted to jetlag after they brought him home from Seoul.
The small light in the kitchen pantry was on, and Kennedy recognized Noah Abernathy’s frame bent over a drawer. She wondered what had transpired during her eight-hour beauty nap. So he was staying with the Lindgrens now. Had his dad kicked him out for good? There was something about his posture or maybe the slight heave of his shoulders that made Kennedy stop in the hall. Was he crying?
Maybe she’d wait for that snack. But then again, couldn’t she try to do some good? The Lindgrens were so hospitable, had encouraged so many people. Shouldn’t she try to do the same for a boy who’d just been kicked out of his house? Then again, what did she know about the Abernathys or their family drama? It really wasn’t any of her business, was it? And what in the world did she have in common with a gay teenage boy? She didn’t need to poke her nose around in the Abernathys’ private affairs. She was sure they had enough members of the press and low-scale paparazzi doing that instead.
She had just resolved to go back to her room when something beeped. The sound in the otherwise silent home made her jump. Noah pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. The glow from his screen cast a greenish light throughout the room.
The heaving in his shoulders stopped. He slammed his fist on the counter and muttered, “I’m gonna kill him.”
From somewhere outside, a car door slammed shut. Kennedy started. Noah turned around and stared right at her.
CHAPTER 6
Noah shoved the phone into his pocket.
Kennedy was trying to form the words to an apology when somebody stepped in through the front door.
“I’m sorry it’s so late. Are Carl and Sandy already sleeping?” Nick, the youth pastor from Carl’s church, slipped into the dining room, making as little noise as he could in his somewhat clunky leather sandals. If Kennedy had thought she was disoriented waking up to a pitch-black house, it was nothing compared to this. She kept checking out the window to make sure it really was nighttime.
Nick was wearing beige cargo shorts and a T-shirt with Jesus and three of his disciples walking down Abbey Road. A speech bubble showed them singing, “All you need is love,” and included a Bible reference from 1 John.
He gave Noah a side hug. “How you doing, brother? I was thinking I could take you out for coffee if it’s not too late.”
Noah hesitated. His hand hovered over the pocket of his pants.
“Or we could chat here if you don’t feel like going out. Whatever you want. I just want you to know I’m here for you.”
He still didn’t respond. Kennedy wondered if the next three days living at the Lindgrens’ would feel this awkward. Why was she always getting in everybody’s way? She should be asleep now, not hanging out in the hallway while a youth pastor stopped by to check on a teen who most likely had been kicked out of his own home when his dad found out he was gay.
Why did she have to be awake for this?
“Tell you what.” Nick flipped off his sandals. “I’m gonna get myself a glass of water. Me and some of the other guys were playing ultimate after youth group, and I’m parched. Once I’m done with that, you can tell me what you want to do.”
Nick had to pass Kennedy on his way to the kitchen, and it was the first time he indicated he’d noticed her. “Oh, hey. When did you fly in?”
“I landed right around noon.”
“You must be tired.”
Kennedy wished she was. “Actually, I’ve been asleep since lunchtime. I just woke up.”
Nick shook his head, and his blond dreadlocks shook around his shoulders. “Man, that’s rough.”
Noah’s cell phone beeped again. His profile looked sickly in its green glow.
Nick finished a noisy gulp of water from the Lindgrens’ sink. “All right, man. Wanna grab a snack? I’ve got a chill album in the bus. My uncle and his friends just put out a new ...”
“I gotta go.” Noah shoved the phone back in his pocket and put on his shoes.
“Where you headed?” Nick asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Noah walked right by him. “I need to go home.”
Nick frowned. “You sure? Back when we were texting, you said your dad ...”
“I need to go home,” he repeated.
Nick shrugged. “No prob. As long as you feel safe there.”
Noah let out a little snort. Kennedy didn’t like the sound of it.
Nick was slipping on his sandals again. “Well, I guess I’ll drive you home then, all right?”
“What’s going on out here?” Sandy’s sleepy voice emerged from the doorway of the master bedroom. She was tying the sash of her pink bathrobe as she came down the hall. “Nick? Is that you?”
He gave her a hug when she opened her arms to him. “Sorry for bothering you. I’d been texting a little with Noah and thought I’d pop over to see if he wanted to spend some time together. I wasn’t trying to wake you up.”
“Don’t worry about that.” Sandy brushed some hair out of her eyes. Kennedy hardly ever saw it down out of its braid. It was thicker than she would have guessed, with almost as much gray as brown. “Kennedy, did you get some good sleep?”
“Yeah, just not at the right time.”
Sandy gave her a pat on the back. “I’m sorry, hon. I told Carl he should wake you up, but then Woong and I had to run out to do some shopping, and Carl got called away for a hospital visit, and by the time we all got home and got dinner going it was so late already we weren’t sure if maybe you’d just sleep straight through the night. I guess that didn’t happen, did it?”
“No.” Kennedy had to match Sandy’s smile even though she didn’t find the situation amusing at all. The dorms opened in three days. She had to be ready, which meant she had to be on East Coast time.
Like, yesterday.
“So you’re awake for good, are you?”
“Probably until tomorrow night,” Kennedy answered. If she could make it that long without some sort of a nap.
“Well, let me get dressed, and I’ll keep you company while these boys go out and do their thing. You’re probably ready for breakfast of some sort, aren’t you?”
“That’s ok,” Kennedy assured her. “I really don’t need ...”
Sandy waved her hand in the air. “Don’t mention it. Lord knows I’ve lost enough sleep with Woong over the past few weeks. I probably couldn’t sleep straight through the night if I ...”
“She can come with us,” Nick interrupted, shooting Kennedy a glance from the other side of the room.
“No.” Sandy tied her apron over her bathrobe and then stared down at herself as if she couldn’t figure out what she’d just done. “You boys need some together time. It’s been a long day for Noah, and ...”
“I’m just dropping him off at home, that’s all,” Nick replied. “You don’t mind if Kennedy tags along, do you?”
Noah shrugged. “Whatever.”
“So you’re going home?” Sandy opened a cupboard and stared at its contents blankly before shutting it again. “What was I getting?” she mumbled to herself.
“You just go back to sleep.” Nick prodded her out of the kitchen as if she were a lost child. “I’ll take Noah home, and Kennedy can come wi
th me so she has something to do.”
“Aren’t you tired?” Sandy was fidgeting with the strings of her apron, but Kennedy couldn’t tell if she was trying to take the whole thing off or tighten her knot. “You need your sleep, too.”
“Not as much as you do.” Nick guided her down the hall, and Sandy kind of floated back to her room, still fussing with her apron asking herself, “Now what was I doing with this old thing again?”
Nick gave Kennedy a little smile. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to shanghai you or anything. I just wanted her to get some sleep.”
“Yeah, she needs it.” Kennedy had to admit she was a little jealous. She’d give up her Shakespeare sonnet book and quite a few of the tragedies for a chance to go to bed now and wake up in the morning like a normal East Coaster.
“All right, Noah, so if all we’re doing is taking you home, you really don’t mind if Kennedy tags along?” He turned back toward her. “If you feel like getting out for a bit, that is.”
She was feeling a little cooped up, and she had no idea what she’d do all night while the Lindgrens slept. She had plenty of books to keep her company, but her eyes were sore from all that dry air blowing into her contacts on the plane. She glanced at Noah to try to gauge his reaction.
“Whatever she wants.” He didn’t look at her. Kennedy got the feeling he didn’t care who took him home as long as he got there. What had changed? Why was he so eager to get back to his dad’s all of a sudden?
Nick jingled his keys on their colorful lanyard. “Well, you both ready?”
“I guess so.” Kennedy followed Nick to the youth group bus. “You painted a new Moses?” she asked when they got to the driveway.
Nick pointed at the passenger door. “Yeah, we pimped it up right before we drove out to the Awakening Festival. They do it every August out in New Hampshire. Christian bands from all over. We took twenty teens or so. Wanted to give the bus a fresher look before we hit the road.”