I could do this. She’d always made it so easy to talk to her. Even the awkward birth-control conversation was easy with her.
Just say it, June.
The outline of her body blurred. It was a tiny glitch at first. If I hadn’t been looking so hard at her, I would’ve missed it, but then it happened again. I tried focusing my eyes. I counted to ten. Her shadow detached from her body and moved free from her and onto the walls of the living room and my stomach slipped down to my feet.
“June?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
My mouth flooded with saliva and I covered it. I felt like I was going to throw up. It didn’t take much stress to tip my scales and I watched as her shadow walked into the kitchen.
“Don’t ignore me when I’m standing right in front of you. I deserve better.”
She did, but I couldn’t stop watching the shadow. It moved around the kitchen like it was looking for something.
I inhaled deeply through my nose. “Mama, I need to go lie down.”
Her face switched from stern to concerned. She sat back down on the couch, pulling me with her, because I only called her mama when I was sick.
“I’m here,” she said. “We’ll just sit for a minute.”
I was too old and too big to sit in her lap but I let it happen because I needed it. She ran her hand across my back and hummed, a move from my childhood. It was a nursery rhyme. When I was little, she had read to me every night before bed. The nursery rhymes were my favorites. I liked the rhythm.
We sat like that for a time, me with my eyes closed tight. Eventually the nausea passed and she stopped humming, her hand stopped moving. It took me a minute to realize she was asleep. I didn’t want to move, because if I did, she’d wake up. I kept still and listened to the sound of her breathing, matching mine to hers. I picked up humming the tune where she left off. It was “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.”
In the dark blue sky you keep, the voice said, singing the rhyme now.
My hum died in my throat and I gripped my mom tighter.
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye.
“June?” my mom said. I’d woken her up. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.”
“I need to go to my room,” I said. “To take a nap,” I lied. “I think it’ll make me feel better.”
I got up and fled. She didn’t stop me and she didn’t follow me. She knew when to push and when not to.
I spent the evening and into the night in my bedroom, under the covers, hiding, because I was a coward. I couldn’t face what was happening to me. I couldn’t tell my mom the truth, even when she begged. I was worthless.
My dad came home around eight o’clock.
“She’s not feeling like herself,” I heard my mom explain when he asked about me. I waited for her to tell him about me skipping school and being grounded. I waited for her to tell him about what happened after, but she didn’t say anything else.
He poked his head into my room when he came upstairs. I turned to him but couldn’t see him, because I’d covered my eyes with my mom’s compression sleep mask. I couldn’t see a shadow on a wall do crazy things, like walk away from the person it belonged to, if I couldn’t see anything.
“You have a headache?” he asked.
I nodded. A lie.
His footsteps were heavy as he moved to my bed, his hand on my forehead cool.
“Any fever?” he asked, always the doctor.
“No.”
“Did you take something?”
“Some Tylenol earlier.” Another lie.
He rubbed my head. He touched my shoulder, right where a bird was painted. I waited for him to say something about it, but instead he said, “I’m headed to bed. Come get me if it doesn’t get better soon.”
“Okay.”
“I love you, June Bug,” he said before closing my door. He sounded sad when he said it and I didn’t know why.
My dad was Creed’s favorite success story. He had graduated from Brown University, the only kid in Creed to go Ivy League. The plan was always to come back home, though. Go away, learn, and come back to reinvest in your community. That was what he’d been taught. He got a hero’s return. There wasn’t a parade, but it was close. But he brought them back something they hadn’t expected. My mom. She was one of only a few people who could claim they’d move to Creed. She fit right in, though. It was unexpected. Maybe it was because she loved my dad so much. “He can do anything,” she said to me once. “He’s the smartest man I know.” He was the smartest man I knew, too.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I heard tapping on my window. My room was on the second floor but there was a ladder that ran up the outside of the house. My parents weren’t stupid and knew that I used it to sneak out sometimes, and sometimes Nick and Bethany used it to sneak in, but the worry that I’d be trapped upstairs in a fire won out over other worries.
I sat up in bed but didn’t take off the mask. I treated it as a test to see how long it would take me to figure out if it was Nick or Bethany. Another part of me worried that it was neither. The window lifted, because it was never locked. There was the sound of a bag being tossed into the room and I could tell from the weight of it that it was Bethany’s.
“Well, don’t you look dramatic,” she said.
I guessed she was referring to the mask. I pushed it up.
“Your mom called my mom,” she explained, and then climbed through the window. “I can’t believe you’re grounded. Have you heard from Nick?”
I gave her a deadpan look.
“Oh, right, no phone. He called me earlier,” she said. “But I didn’t hear it and now he’s not answering.”
She went to my closet and started going through my clothes, like she was looking for something.
“Leanne Smith is having a party tonight,” she said. “I’d wanted you to come with me, but that was before you went all troubled teen on me and got yourself grounded.” She pulled out a shirt and held it up for me. “Can I borrow this?”
It was a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt that I never wore, ironically.
“Yes,” I said.
She pulled off her shirt, put on mine, and went to stand in front of my mirror. “I look good in this,” she said.
Bethany never had a confidence problem.
“You do,” I agreed.
She shoved the shirt she’d been wearing into her bag.
“What time is it?” I asked.
She fumbled around in the bag, pulling out her phone. “It is 11:45 p.m., time for all good girls to be in bed.” She motioned toward me in the bed and smiled.
“I think I want to go to the party,” I said.
Bethany’s eyes looked like they might pop out of her head. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
She came to the bed and put her hand on my forehead in dramatic fashion. “ ‘I think you’re a rebel,’ ” she said, all breathy, quoting this cheesy TV show we’d watched that was supposed to be for kids but was actually a what-to-look-for-when-your-teen-goes-bad show for parents. “ ‘I think you might’ve been one all along,’ ” she added.
We laughed and then she slapped her hands across her mouth and mine, like she’d just remembered that she wasn’t supposed to be there. My mom had taken the night off. She’d said it was so she could catch up on sleep, but I thought she didn’t want to leave me. I didn’t know what would happen if she caught Bethany in my room.
“Let’s do this,” she said. “Go pick out something cute to wear.” She flung my covers back. “And brush your teeth. I got a whiff of that breath just a second ago and it’s not good.”
I went to the closet, trying not to think about all the reasons this was a stupid idea. I just didn’t want to stay in my room by myself and be scared anymore.
“Do we call Nick?” Bethany asked.
I shook my head. “He’s working tonight.”
She didn’t say anything. She hated it as much as I did.
“It’ll be fun to do something just the two of us,” I said, trying to change the mood back.
“We’re going to a party. I don’t think you can count it as an outing for just the two of us.”
“Do you want to do something else?”
She thought about it and then shook her head. “No, I want to do something loud.”
I was dressed and climbing down the ladder fifteen minutes later. I’d brushed my teeth.
In case my parents heard the roar that was Bethany’s truck cranking, she put it in neutral and we pushed it down the street a good ways before hopping in and taking off.
“It’s like we’ve done this before,” she said.
As soon as I closed the truck door, I worried that leaving was a mistake. My headache was real now.
“Are you okay?” Bethany asked.
“Yeah, just a headache.”
“Are you sure this party is a good idea?”
I nodded, but I could tell she didn’t believe me.
“If you change your mind when we get there, just use the bat signal and we’re out of there.”
The bat signal was one of us saying “I’m ready to go,” but Bethany liked to pretend we had more elaborate systems.
The party was a bad idea. I knew it right after we got there, but I didn’t want to admit it yet. Too many people pushing and pressing against me, moving and dancing together in the tiny living room with brown-paneled walls. I felt nauseated, the sick feeling from earlier back again. I blamed it on how hot it was in the house. I didn’t look too closely at anyone, scared their shadows might do something unexpected.
June, you’re slipping, the voice said.
It whispered so close to my face that I felt my hair move. Hands, arms, faces, braided above me. Mouths opened into smiles so big I was afraid they’d swallow me. My hair caught in someone’s fingers, pulling my head toward them. Too close. The beer from their cup spilled down my shirt, waking up my skin. No, no, this was all wrong.
Go with it, the voice said.
The music was something I could see, painting purples and pinks across the room, and I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to go with it. Fight it, I told myself, but my body folded into the rocking, winding bodies, pushing and pressing.
“June? What’s wrong?” Bethany asked. “Are you okay?”
I was not okay. Bethany was right next to me, leaning in close. She grabbed my hands and pulled me toward her, but she wasn’t strong enough to untangle me from the people in the room. She didn’t stop trying. “Come on. Let’s go outside,” she said.
But I couldn’t leave. I was a part of them now.
When she realized it was no use, she wrapped her arms around me. “It’s okay,” she said. We swayed to the music. “You’ll be fine.”
The tempo changed, the bodies shifting, pushing us toward the hall, and Bethany saw our chance.
“Let’s go,” she said.
The front door slammed behind us and the night air hit my face in a whoosh. It felt like being resuscitated. We skipped down the front steps of the house. The voice inside my head dulled, but then a buzzing sound began.
Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
The buzzing was worse.
We stood on the gravel drive and Bethany stared at me for a really long time, scared of the answer to the question she wanted to ask me. What’s wrong with you, June?
She thinks you’re stupid.
It was a young girl’s voice this time and I whipped my head around, trying to find her. I slammed my eyes shut and wanted to go back inside where the music made it harder to hear the goddamn voices whispering in my head.
She thinks you’re the stupidest person she’s ever met, the little girl said in her pretty singsong voice. I couldn’t do this anymore, just grin and bear it, pretend it wasn’t happening.
“Shut up,” I said.
“What?” Bethany asked.
“Not you. I’m sorry.” Bethany deserved a better best friend. I wanted to make her understand. “I’m slipping,” I said.
“What? What does that mean?” she asked.
It was no use. I couldn’t make her understand. There was no point to anything anymore.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“I need something to drink.”
I needed relief.
Shot glasses were lined up along the kitchen island and Todd Nobles poured clear liquor into them. The alcohol burned down my throat. If I was drunk enough, I could ignore the voices. Todd slow-clapped and smiled like he was proud of me, like me taking the shot was a performance.
One more bad choice, the little girl said. You can’t stop us. We’ll never stop.
Another shot and my throat was on fire. Todd cheered louder.
We will be with you forever, another one said. Always listening.
Three shots. Maybe I could burn the voices down.
Always whispering in your ear. You’ll never be alone, they said together.
“June, stop,” Bethany said. Her hands were on me, taking the glass from my hand.
“Where’s the bathroom?” I asked.
This felt like dying.
“I think there’s one upstairs. If you don’t feel good, we can just go.” She said it like she was desperate for us to go.
I took the stairs two at a time. “I just need a minute.”
Maybe this was an anxiety attack. My mom had them sometimes. She said they felt like dying.
The bathroom was decorated in turquoise and hot pink, two colors that should never go together. I risked a look in the mirror. It was worse than I thought. My face told the truth.
There’s no hiding anymore, the voices said. Everyone will look at you and know. They’ll know you’re crazy.
“Shut. Up.”
You’re crazy. Crazy. Crazy.
How to make it stop? Louder, it needed to be louder, louder than the music from downstairs and the voices from inside. If I couldn’t drown out the voices, I would die on this turquoise bath mat. The sound of water would help. I turned the water on in the sink, full force, but it wasn’t loud enough. I went to the shower. I couldn’t turn the water on, couldn’t make it work. It wasn’t like ones I’d used before. Stupid Leanne Smith had a faucet I’d never seen before.
I hated crying. Crying was quitting. Stop crying. Stop crying. Thank God the water came on. Relief. More, louder, yes. The shower would help drown out the noise.
My head pounded. It felt like something was stuck inside me and was trying to get out. Distracting myself, I counted the tiles on the floor. I’d feel better once I knew exactly how many tiles were in this bathroom. One, two, three, four. They were like the cracks in the sidewalk on the way to school. Five, six, seven.
I was going to die if whatever was in my head didn’t get out.
Eight, nine, ten.
It had to get out.
My fingernails tore through the skin on my face so easily. I thought it’d be harder. It should hurt but I couldn’t feel anything. I watched my face in the mirror, my skin curling in places, reminding me of a potato peeling. Why didn’t it hurt?
Because you are not a real person, the voices answered.
“June?” It was Bethany. She tried the handle, but I’d locked the door. “We’ve got to go. Now. We’re busted. Your mom is calling my phone.”
What would I do when my mom came for me, because Bethany was going to answer that phone. I’d gone too far this time. Bethany was scared. I had seen it in her eyes when we were outside.
How was I supposed to look when I tried to convince my mom I wasn’t insane? Stand this way? I pract
iced how I’d stand but I didn’t know where to put my hands. Where would I put my shaking hands that told the truth?
It’s an anxiety attack, I’d tell her. You have them, so I have them. That explains it. We’re two peas in a pod. You’ve always said so.
I’d hide my hands in my pockets and stand just this way when she came. Maybe I’d smile and it wouldn’t be a scary one, but a sure smile. I was sure. She’d think I was fine.
* * *
Someone pounded on the door.
No, no. I wasn’t ready. I needed more time to practice my normal face. My smile was still scary. My face still bled.
More pounding.
“June? I swear to God, if you don’t let me know you’re okay, I’m busting the door down.”
Nick. Bethany had called Nick. It wasn’t my mom to take me away, but Nick, who would help me keep my secret a little longer.
“Let me in,” he said.
I wanted to answer him but my voice died in my throat.
“June?” he said.
There were thirty-five tiles in the bathroom. I was sure. I wasn’t sure of anything else, but I knew how many tiles were on the floor. I’d counted them over and over. There were three steps to the door. The knob was cold in my hand but I couldn’t open it.
“I told Benny I was quitting,” he said.
He said it in a whisper, like he worried someone else might hear.
“Really?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m trying.”
He was trying to be different. He was going to quit Benny’s. It was what I’d wanted since he’d started working there. I wanted to feel happy about it. I wanted to feel anything but the splitting of my head.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
“No,” I said. “Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“Not right now,” I said. Not like this. We’d never be able to pretend I was okay if he saw me like this.
“It’s all right,” he said. “I’m not scared.”
But he should be.
Nick and June Were Here Page 7