The Trouble

with

Emily Dickinson

by

Lyndsey D’Arcangelo

Copyright 2012 by Lyndsey D’Arcangelo

Cover and Book Design: Publishing Syndicate

Edited by Theresa Elders

Published by Publishing Syndicate

at Smashwords

Print Edition ISBN

978-0-9850602-1-3

Digital Edition ISBN

978-0-9-850602-2-0

Library of Congress Control Number

2012930988

All rights reserved.

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Published in the United States

by

Publishing Syndicate

PO Box 607

Orangevale, California 95662

http://www.PublishingSyndicate.com

This book is dedicated to

the young poets and dreamers

of the world.

“Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul

And sings the tune without the words

And never stops all.”

Emily Dickinson

CHAPTER 1

“My river runs to thee: Blue sea, wilt welcome me?”

The words lingered in JJ’s ears, compelling her lips to move along the edges of the syllables. The coffee shop was bathed in dim light, except for the spotlight that held the woman centered on stage as she captured the packed crowd with Emily Dickinson’s poetry.

JJ sat at a table off in a corner by herself, her cobalt blue journal opened wide. She glanced down at the pages of rhymes and rhythmic phrases she’d never once shared with another human being. Though she’d been attending The Spot’s Friday night open readings since her freshman year at private school, JJ never before had come to fulfill a class assignment. That would have mixed business with pleasure. Unfortunately, that was what she was doing at this very moment—mixing business with pleasure.

“My river waits reply. Oh sea, look graciously!”

The woman reciting these words was JJ’s creative writing teacher, Mrs. Clark. She’d required the class to attend a poetry reading dedicated to Emily Dickinson. One by one, other students took the stage to read a poem from Dickinson’s body of work. Thankfully, this wasn’t mandatory, so JJ could sit quietly in the corner and blend in with the crowd, as if she weren’t even there. She was a fan of Dickinson, of course, but not enough of a fan to brave the stage and read a poem outloud to the audience. Her stage fright always got the best of her.

The host of the open reading, a short man wearing square black-framed glasses who worked the coffee counter during the day, took the microphone and expressed his thanks for the large turnout. JJ remembered he’d once taken her for a boy. Since she wore her hair cut short, with bleached-blond tips, usually board-stiff from gobs of gel, her soft tomboyish appearance confused him and he’d mistakenly called her “sir.”

JJ had simply blinked back at him. He’d immediately recognized his mistake and offered her numerous apologies, along with a free cappuccino. She dismissed it as a misunderstanding, knowing he hadn’t done it on purpose. Others had made far harsher comments about her ambiguous appearance before, and not one of those people had ever offered her a fresh cappuccino to save face.

When the winning performance of the night was announced, JJ wasn’t the least bit surprised to see one of the students in her own writing class walk up on stage, smiling widely in her sunshine-colored get-up. Her name was Olivia. Olivia Green.

Now that’s a writer’s name, thought JJ. Much more colorful than her own cow-milking farmhand name of Josephine Jenkins.

When she was a child, she’d responded to everything from Josie to Jo, but decided to call herself JJ before she came to Sampson. She believed that going by her initials introduced elements of curiosity and originality, themes she liked to showcase at the forefront of her personality.

After she left the coffee house, JJ shuffled along the broken sidewalk toward campus. As she walked her flip-flops, smacking against her heels, kept up a soothing beat. She realized if she sped up just a bit, the beat would change.

She tucked her journal under her left arm like a tightly kept secret. She wondered if she would ever muster up enough courage to step up on that stage and share such secrets with the world. Though she knew deep inside that she was as talented as the rest, a self-deprecating fear constantly gripped at her sides and held her back.

A rumble echoed in the distance. The night’s predicted thunderstorm grew closer. JJ leaned against a flickering lamppost, and then slid down to the sidewalk. Her blueberry-colored sweatshirt itched against her back as she reached into her baggy shorts for her pen. She chewed on its end for a moment, as words played in her head. Lightning flashed, making its mark on the sky. Then a thunderous crash shook the air.

JJ focused her attention back onto the blank page in her journal. She scratched out the words in her nearly illegible penmanship:

FEAR

ONE SIMPLE WORD, TINY, UNASSUMING yet, undeniably TORTUOUS

When IT REACHES THE HEART in my chest, causing IT TO POUND

When IT TRAVELS THE LIMBS of my body, causing THEM TO TREMBLE

When IT SEEPS into my mind, causing THOUGHTS TO SCATTER

When IT DWELLS in the pit of my stomach, causing IT TO SPIN

ONE SIMPLE WORD; ENDLESS EXISTENCE

Can’t I just ERASE IT FROM MY MIND?

Raindrops began to spot the page, smudging the ink. JJ tilted her head, and with her eyes tightly shut let the water tickle her face. If she sat there long enough, she hoped the rain would wash away all of her fear.

A smooth black BMW slowed and stopped at the curb beside her. Though the windows were tinted, JJ knew who was behind the wheel.

Queenie McBride, heiress to the throne of the McBride Estate, rolled down the window. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a baseball cap and her almond colored eyes were barely visible in the darkness. She happily wore her usual smug expression on her long face. It somehow lent her the appearance of a seasoned woman, someone aware of the complexities of life.

Known in Virginia as the conquerors of the cotton industry, the McBride family could trace their lineage back to before the Civil War. They owned a plantation where slaves once had worked their lands. Queenie despised her family roots and everything they stood for. Her revenge was to spend her parents’ money as frivolously as possible. Of course, there was the added shock value of being a lesbian. It wasn’t the only thing that she and JJ had in common, but it planted the seed from which their friendship grew.

“What are you doing?” Queenie asked in an accusatory tone. “Are you finding yourself again?”

“I’m exercising my right of creative expression.”

“Care if I interrupt?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Not if you want a ride back to school.”

JJ reluctantly closed her journal and climbed into the front seat. Queenie hit a button on the radio that sent the Indigo Girls blaring in surround sound.

“New speakers,” Queenie yelled above the music, pointing to the back of the car.

As they headed on to the school grounds, Queenie began to sing. Within seconds, JJ joined in and their voices blended with the music. They entered the conservative bubble of Sampson Academy with Queenie riding the high of buying her new state-of-the-art speakers at her parents’ expense while JJ tried desperately to erase the word fear from her mind.

CHAPTER 2

With the rain falling outside her open window, Kendal McCarthy was finding it hard to concentrate on Emily Dickinson’s poetry. She lay on her stomach, staring at the words on the page as if they were written in Greek.

For some reason, school was something that had never been easy for her. She had to study hard just to keep a B average. In public school, she’d coasted easily. Unfortunately, when she transferred to Sampson Academy during her freshman year, Kendal discovered she wasn’t prepared for the serious kind of studying that private high school courses required. During the better part of her junior year, her grade point average slipped so low her parents had threatened to pull her out of Sampson altogether. If she wanted to graduate with the rest of her class, Kendal had no other choice but to seek help.

With a little tutoring on the side and an obligatory willingness to do her homework instead of partying, she managed to pull her grades back up. Her hardest class this semester was Women’s Literature, and she’d decided to get some help after she received a low grade on an essay assignment.

Kendal pulled her small frame off the bed and stood in front of the full-length mirror, which hung between the two single beds in her room. Her hair was cut in a layered angle just below her neckline and was the color of auburn leaves preparing to fall. The greenish-blue tint of her eyes seemed to change color depending upon the way the light hit them. Her face was heart-shaped with a slight curve angling along her cheekbones.

She was pretty and she’d always known she was pretty. Good genes her mother had told her, you were blessed with a good-looks gene.

Kendal sighed. The fact that she was beautiful used to satisfy her. At one point it had been enough. But she’d grown tired of it somewhere along the way. This was her senior year at Sampson and she felt as if something was missing, some unforgettable experience that would help her figure out who she was and who she wanted to be. A vacant space existed inside of her and nothing had been able to fill it, not cheerleading, not her friends, not her looks, not even her popularity. Nothing.

She could hear the rest of the girls of Deacon Hall running around the dorm getting ready to venture out for the night. Their vivacious laughter only reminded her that she wouldn’t be joining them. Instead of partaking in common adolescent delinquencies with the rest of the students at Sampson, she and some random tutor were going to be nose-deep in Emily Dickinson.

The door to her room swung open. Christine, her roommate and fellow cheerleader, barged in and squealed, “We’re getting ready to go out. Come join!”

Kendal hissed at the request. “I probably shouldn’t show up late to a tutoring session,” she said smartly.

“You’re such a good student. You do know that Kyan is going to be at this party, right?”

“Yes, you only told me a billion times at dinner.”

“You sure you can’t skip this?”

“Yes, so quit asking.”

“Fine,” Christine raised her hand into the air. “Happy studying, then. And um—don’t wait up for me.”

Kendal fought the overwhelming urge to join everyone in the next room and fill her ears with the latest school gossip—until she spotted the open book out of the corner of her eye. Her stomach turned with guilt.

After gathering her things, she pulled Emily Dickinson off the bed and slid the book of poetry into her backpack. She left the dorm as fast as she could, knowing that if she lingered any longer she might get swept up in the commotion.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle and the mild wind felt cool against her cheeks. She crossed the soggy lawn listening to the sounds of the campus come alive in the damp air. Sampson Academy was a small private high school with a small-town feel. It took only about five minutes to walk across the entire campus.

Kendal took one last look across the quad toward her dorm and then up the road at Marlon Hall, the dorm where the all the soccer players lived and where all her friends would be hanging out. She gazed longingly at the colonial building until she felt her backpack rub against her shoulder, reminding her that Emily Dickinson was waiting for her.

CHAPTER 3

“A hundred and ten dollars for a new pair of Nike shoes?” JJ dribbled the basketball between her legs. “I can’t believe you spent that much!”

“Actually, I got a discount because I bought them online,” Queenie explained. She was standing under the basket waiting for JJ to shoot the ball. “Besides, I needed to improve my vertical.”

“The most technically advanced Nikes couldn’t help you with your vertical.”

JJ knew full well that at six feet tall, Queenie didn’t need any help jumping in order to get a clear shot at the basket.

“It’s my parents’ money, so what do you care?”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Shoot the ball.”

JJ launched the ball into the air and it swished through the net. Queenie caught it and passed it back. JJ dribbled to the foul line, crossed over and shot again. The ball sank gracefully through the hoop.

“Can’t stop me tonight!” she shouted, as she peeked at the clock on the wall. Her heart sank instantly. “Uh oh.”

“What?” Queenie asked, as she laid the ball up easily against the backboard.

JJ picked up her cell phone to check her calendar. “I completely forgot. I’m supposed to be tutoring at the library right now.”

“So you’re late, don’t go.”

JJ already was sprawled on the floor, struggling to untie the knots in her shoes. “I can’t just skip it. Unlike you, I have to work for my money.”

“I resent that,” Queenie said, squeezing the basketball with both hands. “It takes hard work to ask my parents for money. It requires a certain skill, persistence and the wit of a seasoned con artist.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m sure it must be a struggle to go through life as a McBride.” JJ slid one leg into her warm-ups, trying to shove her things into her gym bag at the same time.

Queenie stepped over to let JJ use her lanky frame for support. “I can’t help it if my parents are incredibly wealthy,” she said. “At least I get to reap the benefits.”

“Lucky you.”

“So what illiterate soccer player are you tutoring tonight, anyway?”

JJ slipped her flip-flops on and took the ball from Queenie’s hands. “No soccer player tonight. I drew the hot ticket in the lottery this time.”

“Cheerleader?”

JJ nodded.

“Seriously? Who?”

“None other than the homecoming queen herself, THE Kendal McCarthy.”

Queenie raised an eyebrow. “Well, then, you best get a move on. Don’t want to keep little Miss McCarthy waiting.”

“I’m sure she’s trembling with anticipation.” JJ threw on her navy baseball cap and slung her gym bag over her shoulder. “Do me a favor and stay out of trouble tonight, will you? We have an early practice tomorrow.”

“Gee, okay, Mom. I’ll be good, I promise.”

JJ ignored Queenie’s retort and hurried out of the athletic center. It was a quarter past nine and she was supposed to have been at the library at exactly 9 p.m. to meet Kendal. She sped up her pace as she crossed the street and headed across the lawn.

The rain-soaked grass dampened her socks and she wished she’d been wearing sneakers instead of flip-flops. Other students passed her, giggling and laughing. The weekend had begun.

Maintaining a solid reputation had become an essential way of life at Sampson Academy. JJ had yet to step foot into a soccer party, or even the boys’ dormitory for that matter. She and her basketball teammates had formed their own clique to help deal with the stereotypes that came with being female athletes at a private school full of over-privileged kids.

During her freshman year, JJ had entertained the idea of joining a few campus organizations because she longed to be a part of something other than basketball.

But Queenie had steered her away from anything and everything superficial. So JJ belonged to a group of non-conformists made up of straight-edged kids who neither drank nor smoked, nor cheated on tests. Some were athletes, some social outcasts, and some were studious kids who, like JJ, just didn’t fit the so-called Sampson student profile. There was a certain pride in being part of that group, something that said, “I don’t need to fit in or be popular.” Queenie had instilled that pride in JJ, and she felt forever in Queenie’s debt.

The Page Library was quieter than the campus outside. As its air of calm eased into her ears, JJ felt her body relax. She searched around the room, filled with tables and countless rows of books. It wasn’t hard to spot Kendal. She was the only other student in the library and she was sitting at the farthest table from the door, next to the biography section. JJ walked up behind her and set her bag down on the table.

“I’m really sorry,” she said breathlessly. “I was shooting hoops in the athletic center and lost track of time.”

Kendal stopped texting and looked up from her cell phone, seemingly unconcerned with the fact that JJ had been late. She was dressed casually in a pale pink hoodie and jeans. “You’re my tutor?” she asked.

JJ promptly removed her hat and ran her hand through her short hair, “What? Don’t I look the part?”

“I guess I was expecting someone who looked a little more—studious.”

JJ cracked a confident smile and pulled out a chair to sit down. “Well, don’t let my jock exterior fool you. I can actually read and write somewhat well.” There was an edge to her voice she hadn’t quite intended.

“I’m sorry,” Kendal said quickly. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“It’s okay,” JJ extended her hand. “I was just joking. I’m JJ.” Kendal reached across the table and shook her hand cautiously.

“I’ve seen you around school. You’re Kendal, right?”

Kendal nodded, a little shamefully. “I bet you’re not surprised to be tutoring a cheerleader. You must get us and the soccer team all of the time.”

JJ smiled. “The soccer team and I go way back.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Seriously though, I tutor a lot of different people. Some are soccer players and others are just regular students who are having trouble grasping a subject. Everyone needs help now and then.”

“I’ve always had trouble in school,” Kendal confessed. “It’s something I have had to work harder at. I have friends who can wake up after a late night out, go to class and pass a test without even studying. I’d give anything to be able to do that.”

“My friend, Queenie, is like that,” said JJ. She ran her hand through her hair again, something she often did when she was stuck on what to say next. “But I always tell her that college isn’t as easy as high school, and that she should start getting in the habit of studying now. It’s a completely different kind of reality. So, it’s good you are learning how to study and put the work in. You’ll be much more prepared next year in college.”

“I guess I never looked at it that way,” said Kendal.

JJ suddenly imagined Queenie’s image appearing over Kendal’s left shoulder. Queenie would be rolling her eyes so far to the side of her head that they’d practically pop out of her ear. JJ realized she’d started to sound like a motivational speaker. “So—what seems to be the problem with Women’s Literature?”

Kendal emitted a dramatic groan. “I feel like I don’t understand what any of these authors are saying. When we discuss a poem in class, or when Ms. Chin explains what a poem means, I don’t understand where everybody’s coming from. I’m completely lost. I might as well be reading a foreign language.”

JJ understood Kendal’s frustration, though she couldn’t relate to it. Literature and poetry always had been easy for her, and since she was a writer herself, she had little trouble comprehending abstract ideas or appreciating originality.

“Well, let’s take a look at the poem you have to write about for tomorrow’s class. Ms. Chin has her students write a one-page response to readings, right?”

“Unfortunately, my responses don’t even make up half a page.”

JJ turned the book around to face her and noticed that Kendal wouldn’t be able to look at it upside down. “Maybe it’s better if you sit next to me,” she said. “Just so we can read it together.”

Kendal switched chairs and accidentally brushed her leg against JJ’s in the process. It distracted her, stealing her attention away from the book momentarily.

JJ looked up from the page, fully aware that Kendal was staring at her. As soon as their eyes met she looked away, yet something sweet lingered in the air around them.

“You smell nice,” JJ heard herself say, wincing when she realized what she’d said. “I mean—your shampoo—it smells nice, like fruity or something.”

“Um—thanks,” Kendal said.

“I mean, you know,” JJ rambled on, to break the ensuing awkward silence. “It smells like strawberries or something like that.”

“Thanks.” Kendal repositioned her body in the chair and cleared her throat. She was nervous for some reason and for a second she forgot why she was even in the library until she saw the book of poetry open in front of them. “So, I read this twice and I still don’t get it,” she said, pointing at the page.

JJ followed the lines of the poem with her index finger. “Okay. First off—the trouble with Emily Dickinson is that she writes ambiguously, meaning a lot of the words that she uses aren’t meant to be taken literally.”

“You mean what she’s saying in the poem isn’t really what people think she’s saying?”

“Sort of. See, Dickinson wrote ambiguously because that’s just the way she wrote. She knew what the poems meant and that was all that mattered to her. She never intended them to be published because she was afraid that readers would interpret them in ways she didn’t want them to. Some scholars tend to refer to her as a ‘private poet,’ because it wasn’t until after her death that her talent for poetic expression was discovered and ultimately became respected by others.”

“That’s kind of depressing that she wasn’t discovered until after her death. Was she afraid to share her work or something?”

“I don’t know.” JJ picked at the page with her fingers. “I don’t think that matters. There are plenty of talented writers out there who prefer to keep their poetry to themselves.”

“It seems like a waste of time, though. Why even write if you aren’t going to share your work with other people?”

“Some people don’t need approval from others in order to call themselves writers,” said JJ, looking up from the book. “It isn’t as important as you might think.”

“All that I’m saying is—”

“Can we get back to the poem?”

Kendal bit back her words and proceeded to read the next few lines out loud. “A long, long sleep, a famous sleep. That makes no show for dawn. By stretch of limb or stir of lid. An independent one.” She paused and looked up from the page. “Is that about a nap?”

“Well, more like the kind of nap you don’t wake up from,” said JJ. “Read the last two lines.”

“To bask centuries away, not once look up for noon . . . bask centuries away . . . she’s talking about death, right? A long, long sleep.”

“Good. Now you’re reading between the lines. And that’s one of the keys to reading poetry.”

They discussed the poem at length, along with a few others for over an hour. Kendal struggled to make sense of most of them, but found comfort in JJ’s encouragement.

“It might help if you learned a little bit about Dickinson’s background. Knowing where authors came from and what they’re about can help you understand their writing better.”

“In what way?”

“Well, for instance, one of the themes Dickinson often writes about is love. Only she wrote about it as a thing to be felt and not just a thing to be said. Poetry gave her a way to explore the feeling of love to the fullest extent, in a way most people never let themselves experience.” It didn’t take JJ long to notice that Kendal was staring at her again. “What did I say?”

“Nothing,” said Kendal. She blinked and looked away, as if she were keeping a secret. “It’s easy to see why you’re such a good tutor. I learned more about Emily Dickinson in the last hour than I have my entire life.” She closed the book and tapped at the cover. “You were highly recommended to me by my advisor, you know. He said you were one of the best. Most tutors I’ve had come off sounding condescending. It’s as if they assume I’m an idiot because I’m a cheerleader.”

“I didn’t think that.”

“I’m sure you had some preconceived notions though.”

“Possibly,” JJ admitted. “But no more than what you thought about me when I first got here. You said it yourself, you were expecting someone a bit more studious, remember?”

“Well, we’re even then.”

JJ began to pack up her things and pointed to Kendal’s folder. “I think you’ve got a good amount of notes to write your one-page response for your class tomorrow,” she said.

Kendal looked over the scribbles in her notebook. “Are you kidding? I think I actually have enough to write at least five pages.”

JJ studied her, admiring the child-like expression on her face. It was then that she realized she’d never really seen Kendal McCarthy up close. She was more than beautiful.

“What?” Kendal asked.

“Nothing,” said JJ. It was her turn to look away this time. “I should get back to my dorm. I’ve got some reading to do and we have an early practice tomorrow.” She slowly packed the rest of her things into her gym bag, slid her hat on backwards, and then checked around and under the table making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. “I’ll see you next session,” she said finally. “Same place, same time, except I’ll be on time.”

“Yeah, same time,” Kendal said, laughing. She picked up her cell phone and added the date in her calendar.

JJ stood still for half a second longer, letting the sound of Kendal’s laughter sweep over her before she turned to leave. She walked back to her dorm room reliving each moment of their interaction in her head, recalling the tidbits of conversation, and the warm sensation she felt whenever Kendal accidentally brushed against her.

The dorm room was empty when JJ entered, though she could hear the television in the common room. She knew that Queenie probably was watching a movie. She and Queenie roomed together and shared a suite with two other members of the basketball team. Not wanting to be interrogated about what happened during her tutoring session with Kendal, JJ quietly changed into a pair of boxer shorts and a T-shirt, and climbed onto her top bunk without saying goodnight.

She ran her hand underneath her pillow and pulled out another journal. This one she kept in her bed in case she ever woke up from a dream and needed to write her thoughts down on paper before they vanished from her mind like midnight fog.

A number two pencil, with its end chewed ragged and sides haphazardly gnawed, fell out from between the pages. Sitting with her legs crossed, JJ closed her eyes and breathed in long and heavy before she exhaled an equally long sigh. She did this for a few minutes to clear the clouds in her head until nothing remained but a clear white space, an empty room in which the thoughts inside could move about freely

While a sense of quiet draped over her like a quilt, an image of Kendal appeared in JJ’s mind. The picture seemed as real as if they were still together in the library, sitting side by side, discussing the intricacies of Emily Dickinson’s poetry. When JJ opened her eyes, the writer inside of her had taken hold. She scrawled words rapidly across the blank pages of her journal.

Beyond your eyes, I see it . . . a moment,

a feeling, a breath

A second to say the words that never leave your lips

And then it’s gone

Leaving behind a sensation

Tingling in my heart

Lingering in the air

Making me wish

That the moment never ended

Making me hope

To feel it again

But I imagine

That next time

The words will flow

The moment will last

The breathing will speed

And emotions will reveal

What lies patiently

Beyond your eyes

When she finished, JJ sat back and admired her work. She whispered the poem out loud to herself in the safe confines of an empty room where she felt secure that no one else could hear her.

CHAPTER 4

“Wild nights. Wild nights.”

“No, no. Read it with more enthusiasm,” said JJ.

Kendal raised her voice slightly. “Wild nights! Wild nights!”

JJ looked at her skeptically.

“What?” Kendal asked.

“Do you even realize what Dickinson is writing about here?”

“A wild night?”

“The way you read it you’d think the poem was about a boring night.” JJ glanced around to make sure that the library was empty. Then she grabbed the poetry book and pushed her chair away from the table. She stood up firm and bellowed, “WILD nights! WILD nights! Were I with thee, WILD nights should be our luxury!”

Kendal looked on in amazement. “Wow,” she said.

“See the difference?”

“Yeah. But I’m more impressed with the way you read it than I am with the poem.”

JJ forced a smile, even though her stomach was in knots. Had there been a single soul sitting anywhere near them, she would have never dared to do what she had just done. But she had to in order to get her point across about Dickinson’s poetry. “I’m just doing the poem justice,” she said. “I’m giving it the enthusiasm that Dickinson intended.”

“So she’s talking about a crazy, wild night. Was she at a party or something?”

“Kendal,” said JJ, exasperation filling her voice as she sank back down into her chair.

“What?”

“I can’t help you with this if you aren’t willing to at least try and look between the lines.”

“I know,” Kendal sighed. “I’m still getting used to this whole poetry thing. Emily Dickinson is just the beginning, you know? We’re also studying other authors this semester.”

“Dickinson is the beginning,” JJ insisted. “It’s from Dickinson that all those other authors stem. You’ll see.”

“I know I’m lacking enthusiasm. It’s just that I haven’t had any ‘wild nights’ myself since you started tutoring me. It’s been two weeks of studying, studying, studying.”

JJ shifted in her chair. “But they’ve been an enjoyable two weeks of studying, studying, studying, haven’t they?”

Kendal smiled as if she were glad that JJ cared enough to ask. “Yes, they’ve been enjoyable. Thanks to you.”

JJ held back her sigh of relief. The truth was that the past two weeks had been the most enjoyable days she had ever experienced at Sampson Academy. And it was all because of Kendal.

“So back to those ‘wild nights,’” said Kendal. “Do you mind if I try again?”

“Go for it,” said JJ. But as soon as Kendal opened her mouth to begin, JJ covered the page with her hands. “Except this time, give it a little more oomph.”

“Oomph?”

“Yeah—oomph!”

Kendal laughed, “Okay.”

JJ watched closely as Kendal began reciting the poem. She suddenly forgot all about those wild nights in the poem and focused in on Kendal’s eyes, her hair, and the way her nose twitched when she shouted a word. As soon as she finished, JJ stood up and began clapping loudly.

Kendal blushed with embarrassment and pulled at JJ’s arms to get her to sit back down. JJ playfully grabbed hold of Kendal’s hand and pushed it away. Neither of them let go and their hands stayed locked together.

“See, that was much better,” JJ said after a moment, slowly releasing Kendal’s hand.

“Um—can we go over the middle stanza again?” Kendal asked, pretending she hadn’t noticed that they had been holding hands for a full thirty seconds. “Futile the winds to a heart in port, done with the compass, done with the chart.”

“Sure. What do you think it means?”

“I think that it means that because she was so deeply in love, the winds were useless to her. So was the compass and the map or chart or whatever. She didn’t need them because her heart knew which way to go. It knew how to get her to her loved one because the connection between them was so strong.”

“Exactly.”

“And when she got there, they’d have plenty of ‘wild nights.’”

JJ laughed. “Not wild as in crazy silly, but wild as in overwhelming.” She pointed to Kendal’s heart. “Remember when I told you that Dickinson believed that love should truly be felt? Well, the ‘wildness’ is describing what she felt.”

Kendal’s eyes widened. “She must have been head over heels for the guy she was writing about.”

“How do you know it was a guy?” JJ asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Some people seem to think,” JJ began, but paused for a moment, not sure how to phrase the rest of what she wanted to say. “It’s been said that Dickinson might have been in love with a close friend, another woman.”

“A woman?”

JJ continued slowly, “Well, a lot of her love poems are not exclusively heterosexual. And in this one she doesn’t specifically address gender. She’s just expressing love.”

“I don’t know. That still doesn’t mean she’s talking about another woman.”

JJ paused. “You don’t think it’s possible for a woman to feel that intensely about another woman? To feel that much in love?” She looked along the bookshelves as she asked this, slightly afraid of what Kendal might say in return.

Kendal studied the words on the page, though her mind drifted to thoughts of how she’d been thinking about JJ far too often lately. She read the poem over again.

“I do think it’s possible,” she said finally. “I think love has a way of crossing all boundaries.”

They stared at one another, both well aware that they were thinking exactly the same thing. A comfortable silence lingered around them and even though their hour of studying was up, neither mentioned the time or dared to glance at the clock. Instead they continued talking, flipping through the pages of Dickinson’s lyrics as if they were taking a journey through another world, outside the boundaries of reality, and certainly outside the confinement of Sampson Academy.

CHAPTER 5

“So, are you going to tell me or just sit there eating your eggs with that ridiculous grin on your face for the rest of breakfast?”

“What? I’m hungry.”

“Right,” Queenie snorted. “Look, I kept my mouth shut and didn’t mention your numerous little tutoring dates with the homecoming queen to anyone else on the team. I think that kind of devotion earns me a complete and detailed account of the evenings in question.”

“Your talent for persuasion astonishes me. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

Queenie curled her fingers and ran them across her shirt, pretending to buff her nails.

“Cute,” JJ said, peppering her eggs with hot sauce.

“Quit trying to stall by flattering me.”

“I don’t know why you’re so intrigued anyway.”

Queenie slapped her hands down flat on the table. “Are you kidding me? This isn’t like you’re tutoring the alphabet to some spoiled soccer player. This is THE Kendal McCarthy, the most popular girl at Sampson Academy. And you’ve been tutoring her for a couple of weeks now.”

“So?”

“So, I’m bursting with fruit-flavored curiosity.”

“She’s not what she seems,” JJ insisted. Anxiety itched in her stomach, and she longed to change the subject. But Queenie knew her too well, and if she were hiding something it would be completely obvious.

“She’s not materialistic and stuck up like the rest of her cheerleading counterparts?”

“She’s, I don’t know, she’s—she’s different. She’s nice.”

“Nice?” Queenie’s jaw fell nearly to the table. “I don’t believe it! You like her!”

JJ immediately shook her head in defiance. “No! I don’t even know her.”

“Yeah, but you used the word ‘nice.’”

“So, I happen to think she’s nice. That doesn’t mean I like her!” JJ’s voice jumped at least an octave higher. “You always jump to conclusions like this because it gives you something to talk about.”

“Really?” Queenie asked, cocking her head to one side. “Then why are you getting all defensive?”

“I’m not getting defensive!”

Queenie sat back in her chair and folded her arms satisfyingly across her chest.

“Don’t look at me like that,” JJ warned. She remained steadfast, even though she knew that Queenie had guessed her secret. “Can we talk about something else, please?”

“Fine. But don’t come crying to me when the Dibble Syndrome hits.”

Ah, yes. The notorious Dibble Syndrome. JJ had considered it, too. During her sophomore year, she’d developed an obsession with a girl in one of her classes named Kelly Dibble. She fell so hard for her that it finally caused her to confront her feelings head on.

JJ made the mistake of telling Kelly that she was gay and how she felt. Kelly’s reaction was anything but comforting. In fact, she was downright appalled and stopped speaking to JJ altogether. JJ soon fell into a depression, and Kelly transferred to another school the following semester. Though it was rumored that Kelly had transferred because her parents had wanted her closer to home, JJ suspected that she was an integral reason for the transfer.

With Queenie’s help, JJ somehow managed to climb up from the hole she’d sunk into, and regain her sense of self. From that point on, she and Queenie had dubbed any serious crush that left their minds senselessly wandering as the Dibble Syndrome. But JJ knew this was different.

“It’s not the Dibble Syndrome,” she said. “Not even close.”

“OK, if you say so.” Queenie began to rub her left shoulder with purpose, grimacing from the soreness. “Coach must have had something rather large and obtrusive stuck up her butt this morning. I mean, how many sprints can one person run in a two-hour span?”

JJ nearly snorted orange juice through her nostrils. As she was about to respond with her own witty comment, she spotted Kendal McCarthy walking across the cafeteria towards the cheerleading table in the corner.

Most of the tables in the cafeteria were unofficially spoken for. JJ and her teammates sat at their designated table near the salad bar, while the boy’s basketball team sat directly behind them. The soccer players sat at the longest table near the front of the dining hall. At the next table sat the students in the academic achievement group, and yet another table was reserved for the debating team.

The remaining tables were filled accordingly with members of other athletic teams, the drama club, the Cultural Awareness Society, the art club, the Christian society and whatever other clubs remained on campus. Students who didn’t belong to a particular group bonded together and seized whatever open tables they could. Sitting at the wrong table constituted a big no-no at Sampson Academy.

JJ remembered when she mistakenly had sat down at the cheerleading table her freshman year. Every single girl at the table had looked at her as if she were an illegal immigrant who’d dared to cross the border without a valid passport. One senior had even gone so far as to remark, “Excuse me, but you do know that this table is for cheerleaders only.”

Of course I didn’t know that, JJ had thought. There was no neon sign or illuminated billboard advertising that fact. JJ had wanted to spit those very words back out at her but swallowed them instead. Feeling defeated, she’d scraped together what remained of her pride and moved to another table.

“Ahem.”

JJ snapped out of her daze. Queenie was giving her that look, the one that JJ’s mother used to give her when she knew she was hiding something. “Could you be staring any harder?”

“Could you be any more annoying?” JJ shot back.

* * *

Kendal was on a natural high. She actually had begun to enjoy her Women’s Literature class since she’d decided to get some tutoring. For once, she finally understood what her teacher was talking about and was able to contribute to class discussions instead of doodling in her notebook like she had since the beginning of the semester.

Her hair just barely reached into a ponytail, so she tucked the loose strands behind her ears. Her school uniform, a jacket and skirt combination, hung neatly at her hips. The Academy’s uniform policy required that girls wear either a black skirt or a pair of khaki pants during class hours, and Kendal had noticed that JJ always opted for the pants.

“Are you going to the soccer party tonight?” Christine asked as Kendal sat down across from her.

“Definitely. I think I’ve earned it after all the extra work I’ve been doing lately.”

“I can’t believe you can eat all of that greasy mess.” Christine motioned to Kendal’s tray, stirring granola into her own cup of yogurt.

Kendal looked down at her runny eggs, cooked over-easy, complemented with potatoes and bacon. She then eyed Christine’s yogurt. “At least I eat,” she retorted.

“I eat! I just choose to eat healthy.” Christine grabbed her spoon and licked the yogurt off of it. “Excuse me if I’m not lucky enough to have your turbo metabolism.”

“I can’t help it if I burn through food like it’s jet fuel.” Kendal picked at her eggs. “I’m so glad I decided to get a tutor for Women’s Literature.”

“Speaking of which, who did you land this time? I hope it wasn’t that Asian kid with the horrible acne again.”

“God, no,” Kendal said quickly. “It’s JJ something or other. She’s on the basketball team. You’ve probably seen her around school. She hangs around with that rich girl with the weird name, Queenie or something.”

Christine hacked and coughed as if she was about to spit her yogurt back up. “You have no luck with tutors at all!” she gasped.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, look at your track record. First you get that weird guy with the lazy eye, then the girl who spit when she talked, then Asian acne boy and now to top it off, a lesbian.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Kendal!” Christine’s eyes widened. “She’s gay. So is half of the basketball team.” She spooned out the rest of her yogurt with her index finger and licked it off. “C’mon, you seriously didn’t know? I swear it amazes me how naïve you can be.”

Kendal picked up a piece of bacon, “I’m not naïve. I just never suspected.”

“It’s so obvious,” Christine continued.

Kendal felt a sourness growing in her stomach. The appetite she’d been bragging about moments earlier had completely vanished. She had suspected that JJ was different somehow, especially the way she paused in mid-conversation around her or when Kendal had caught her staring. But she had stared back at JJ. She’d even smiled back in a way that was more than friendly. But if JJ was gay, did that mean that she—?

“Has she hit on you yet?” Christine prodded.

Kendal practically threw the piece of bacon back down on her plate. “Will you stop it?”

“What? I’m sure she thinks you’re hot. I mean, everyone at this school thinks you’re hot.”

“She helps me with homework, that’s it. That’s what a tutor does.”

“Well, I’d just be careful if I were you,” Christine advised. “Don’t give her your phone number, or she might start texting you. And make sure that you don’t sit too close to her or anything.”

Kendal immediately thought of them sitting at the table in the library where she and JJ usually shared a book of poetry and how she’d accidentally brushed up against JJ on more than one occasion over the past couple of weeks. She thought of how JJ had mentioned that Dickinson could have been in love with another woman.

She shifted uncomfortably in her chair as she thought about their last tutoring session, when they talked about Dickinson’s “wild nights” and who she might have been writing about. She thought about the questions JJ had asked her, about the feeling of their locked hands, and about her own response. She felt dizzy and lightheaded.

Christine began to gossip with the other girls at their table as if nothing had happened. The conversation eventually swung to the coming evening events, and Kendal pretended to listen while a strange curiosity engulfed her, giving her knots in her stomach.

CHAPTER 6

Kyan Stevens grunted as he lifted the fifty-pound barbell with his left hand.

He counted silently. Five. Four. Three. Two. One.

His tanned torso was covered with a black muscle shirt and he wore a pair of matching black mesh shorts. The sandy hair that normally hung just above his eyes was held back now by a black bandana. A tattoo of barbwire circled his left leg around the calf muscle. And the diamond-studded earrings in his ears sparkled in the weight room lights.

He breathed heavily, watching himself in the mirror. The weight gain supplement that his coach had advised him to take was beginning to work. He couldn’t believe that the soccer season already was half over. This was his last season of his high school career. He had to perform well. He had to show the underclassmen what Sampson soccer was about, where true dedication and hard work could get you.

He picked up the barbell with his right hand and repeated the reps. Sweat began to form on his brow. The image in the mirror reflected his obsession with perfection.

Everything in his life was set to high standards, from his grades to the girls he dated. He had always set his goals high. Having a military captain for a father was part of the reason. Lack of confidence was the other, but he’d never admit that. Pushing to the top had grown into an inescapable addiction. But he’d achieved a great deal. He had the perfect body, a complete mass of toned muscle and definition. He had the perfect reputation, a captain on the soccer team. He had the perfect grade point average and already had been accepted into one of the top pre-law programs in the country. There was one more thing he needed though, one piece to make the puzzle complete. He needed the perfect girl.

Tired of dating the same old blondes with incredible looks but zero personalities, Kyan had finally decided it was time to find someone more wholesome. He and his teammates were the most popular students in the entire school. It seemed only natural that he partner up with someone from the cheerleading team, which was made up of the prettiest girls on campus. The obvious choice would be the head cheerleader, Mya Brooks. But he found her to be slightly heftier than he preferred, plus she had a reputation for being extremely headstrong and opinionated.

His unconsciously shook his head at the mirror. Then he sank to the ground, and began to do sit ups.

Kyan wanted someone less brainy, someone smart enough to carry on a conversation, but not too smart. Someone who would be willing to let him control the reigns of the relationship and steer it in the direction he desired. Someone like Kendal McCarthy.

She was perfect for him—just the right size, beautiful, likeable, popular, but seriously lacking in the area of intelligence. He often spotted her in the library being tutored. She didn’t have a boyfriend, and she would be somewhat of a challenge for him, since other guys at Sampson were most likely interested in her as well.

“Hey, we’re thinking of having a party tonight. You up for it?”

One of Kyan’s soccer teammates, Jason, now stood over him. Sixty minutes on the treadmill had drenched his friend’s shirt with sweat. “Definitely,” Kyan replied between reps.

“I told Christine,” Jason said. “She’s going to get all the girls from the cheerleading squad to come.”

Kyan sat up and smiled slyly. “Perfect. I think it’s time Kendal McCarthy and I get to know each other a little better.”

“Kendal McCarthy? THE Kendal McCarthy?”

“Yes, Kendal McCarthy. What’s the big deal?”

“Nothing,” Jason said. “I just think she’s a bit out of reach, you know. Even for you.”

“This is me you’re talking to. All it takes is a little bit of charm, a few compliments and the rest just falls into place.”

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

Kyan climbed to his feet and flexed in front of the mirror. Sometimes it was almost too much, knowing how things in his life were working out so well. The only thing he was missing was a girlfriend. But no girl in her right mind would turn him down, especially not Kendal McCarthy. “Let’s go,” he said.

They left the sweat-filled athletic center, both of their bodies pumping from endorphins and high expectations for the weekend.

CHAPTER 7

JJ sat in her room listening to some soft R&B on her stereo. Queenie had gone home for the weekend. Her parents lived only half an hour away in the affluent Rolling Hills, a suburb of Richmond, and her mother was forcing her to attend a bridal shower for her older sister. The only thing that eased Queenie’s mind about being home was the fact that she secretly had planned her biggest revenge on her family to date.

As far as JJ knew, Queenie’s mother, father and sister were the only ones who were aware of her sexual orientation. About two years earlier her father had threatened to disown her after her mother caught Queenie in the guest bedroom kissing a female member of the cleaning staff. But with a little convincing from Mrs. McBride, he’d learned to live with the situation.

It seemed as though Queenie’s main goal in life was to antagonize her parents. She’d succeeded plenty of times before: by getting kicked out of three other private schools, by spending a summer in a juvenile detention hall for stealing from a high-end fashion boutique frequented by her mother, by hanging with what they considered was the wrong crowd, and by spending her parents’ money as though she were playing a mean game of Monopoly.

But Queenie was planning her biggest production yet. At her sister’s wedding reception she would announce in her maid of honor speech that she was gay. It would be an affair to remember, one that the assembly of guests could never forget, Queenie promised, when she first disclosed her devious little plan to JJ.

Of all the stunts Queenie had ever pulled, this was going to be the most outrageous of them all. JJ shook her head in disbelief. Sometimes it seemed as though Queenie lived inside a movie script rather than in reality.

Even though JJ’s own family initially had a hard time accepting the news when she told them that she was gay, they eventually came around. It was the most difficult thing she’d done in her short life thus far, and she couldn’t imagine how anything could be harder. She and her family were close. Her older brother recently had graduated from college and taught math at a local high school. Her mother also was a teacher, and her father sold advertising space for a local paper.

JJ remembered the night clearly, and had replayed it in her mind repeatedly. It was early June. She’d just finished her sophomore year at Sampson Academy and was in search of a summer job. Her parents had remained quiet that week, thinking she was depressed because she was stuck at home for the summer and hadn’t yet found a job so that she could make some extra money. That, of course, was not the reason.

From the moment JJ had stepped into the house, she knew she was going to have to tell them the truth. Her mother still hung on to the hope that she’d outgrow this so-called tomboy phase. But it wasn’t a phase. Her father, whom she loved and respected more than anyone else in her life, didn’t know the real her. It was eating her alive. With each passing day, JJ grew increasingly reserved. Her head constantly spun with the anticipated conversation, from the moment she awoke each morning until she lay awake, wide-eyed, in her bed each night. She felt as if she’d been carrying on an act, being untrue to both herself and them.

JJ had always amazed herself with how easily words came to her, yet when she needed them the most, she couldn’t find them. There was no plan, no designated date or time, to tell her family. The feeling kept swelling until it became too big for her body, until she had no other choice but to let it out from inside of her so that she could breathe easily once again.

Finally, about two weeks after she‘d arrived home, the night had come. She and her parents sat at the kitchen table, eating dinner. Roast beef and vegetables, JJ remembered. She could barely swallow her potatoes. Her feeling of dread had grown so massive it was filling up her throat.

“Why are you so quiet?” her mother had asked, so caring and so sincere.

“Are you upset that you haven’t found a job yet?” asked her father. “I could check with the paper. I’m sure I could get you a part-time writing job, maybe an internship.”

JJ swallowed the potatoes that had turned to mush from sitting in her mouth, and shook her head.

“Do you miss school?” her mother asked.

“No, it’s not that.” JJ’s eyes widened, when she realized she still had the ability to talk. She felt the words begin to climb up her throat, and knew there was no going back.

“I have to tell you something,” she continued, her words coming slowly. “Something I am afraid to say. Something that I have to say, even though I know you both will be disappointed.”

Her father set down his fork and eyed her mother. JJ could see the concern in his expression, the worry and the confusion. Her mother remained composed.“Josie, you can tell us anything.”

JJ knew this. She had always known this. It was the actual act of telling that was so hard. “I know—”

“What is it Jo-Jo-Bear?” Her father’s use of her pet name tore at her heart.

JJ held back her tears until they spilled from her eyes, and when it was time to say the exact words, they fell from her lips effortlessly: “I’m gay.”

Silence followed, and then her mother’s tears began to flow as she stood up and left the room. JJ had rushed after her, clutching a book she’d purchased a year before, hoping it would help her parents understand.

“I know you are confused, Mom, but this might help.” She handed over the book, Different Daughters, wishing her mother would find the courage to read it.

“Was it something I did?” her mother cried.

“No, Mom, it’s not something anyone did. It’s just something I am.”

JJ wanted to make her understand, but how could she make someone understand something that took she, herself, years to come to terms with completely?

“The neighborhood we raised you in, all those boys around, maybe if there had been more girls to play with you—”

“Mom, it’s not that. I’d still be this way. I’ve known since the third grade. I’ve always known.”

Her mother continued to cry, mourning the loss of the girly daughter image she still clung to. Her father, on the other hand, remained completely calm. He said he loved her no matter what, and that was that. JJ knew he was putting on a front to hide his disappointment. And it came to fruition a few months later when she was about to leave for her junior year at Sampson Academy. They had been watching a documentary on same-sex marriages, and her father, who was set in his ways, expressed outrage at the idea and vowed never to condone it. This sparked an intense argument between them, and they didn’t speak for days.

Eventually her father had come to terms with it, though he still held onto his own world views, which JJ accepted because she knew she could not change his entire outlook on life and society. As long as she had his love and support, she felt satisfied.

Her mother eventually finished mourning the loss of the daughter she’d thought she known, and learned to look at JJ through different eyes. She even read the book and announced it formally when JJ came home for Christmas break.

“I finished the lesbian book you gave me,” she said proudly.

JJ laughed. She’d even been able to share with them her past crushes and insecurities. It was an incredible feeling to find that her parents’ love was so unconditional. It was almost overwhelming. Knowing that her friend Queenie had never experienced such love from her own family somehow made JJ feel guilty. She knew how much Queenie envied her, and longed to have the same kind of relationship with her own parents.

Queenie.

JJ had never known anyone like her. She wondered if Queenie was causing a stir at her sister’s wedding shower, and wished she were there to witness it. Then her mind drifted again and Kendal danced her way in. Though they had interacted on more than a few occasions, their conversations had been limited to poetry and the brilliance of Emily Dickinson. JJ had yet to learn anything more about Kendal besides the obvious, that she was a cheerleader, was incredibly beautiful and popular, and needed help with her schoolwork.

For some reason, JJ craved more. She wanted to get inside Kendal’s head, to be able to ask her more meaningful questions, like what was her biggest fear, and if she could travel anywhere in the world, where would she go and why.

“Why am I thinking about her?” JJ asked aloud.

Maybe Queenie was right. Maybe this was another case of the Dibble Syndrome. But it didn’t feel the same. The Dibble Syndrome was more of an obsession kind of thing. It wasn’t real. Then again, maybe this wasn’t real either.

JJ turned off the stereo and flipped on the television for distraction. A moment later the phone rang twice to signal an off-campus call. Something told her that it was Queenie checking in.

“How’s the wedding shower?” JJ asked. She could hear the sounds of conversation fluttering in the background.

“I’m having the time of my life,” Queenie said blandly. “What are you doing?”

“Watching television.” JJ’s finger robotically hit the channel button on the remote control.

“What’s on?”

“Nothing in particular.”

“Hey, I’m sorry I gave you a hard time about Kendal. I just don’t want to see you go through something like that again.”

“I know. It’s nothing. Honest.”

“Look, I gotta go,” Queenie said anxiously. “My sister just opened up a gift and it’s some racy lingerie. I want to get in a few good barbs while I still can. I’ll see you Sunday.”

JJ hung up the phone and turned off the television. She let the quiet seep in around her and closed her eyes. Instinctively, as if a remote switch flipped on inside her mind, she began to think about Kendal.

CHAPTER 8

Christine already was getting on Kendal’s nerves by the time they got to the soccer party. Kendal gladly let Jason take over the reins of keeping Christine entertained once they found him in someone else’s dorm room playing cards.

“Here. Have fun,” Kendal said as she handed Christine over to him. Christine’s limp body fell directly into his arms and she clung to his chest.

“Hey, you,” Christine managed to say as she squinted upward to focus on the face in front of her.

“How much did she have to drink?” Jason asked, grimacing from the stench of Christine’s breath.

“Too much,” said Kendal, who hardly ever drank anything besides Diet Coke.

Jason picked Christine up and took her to another room so that she could lie down. The dorm room overflowed with people. Kendal pushed through the adjoining door and found four more guys in the next room, sitting in folding chairs around a wobbly metal card table. She forced a smile, uncertain if she wanted to stay or leave.

“Want to play?” one of them asked.

Kendal knew instantly who he was. Kyan Stevens, the captain of the soccer team. He was cute, with dimples that hung at the sides of his cheeks like half moons when he smiled. His hair was mussed and he wore a polo shirt fitted close to his chest. It was obviously a much smaller size than it needed to be, perfect for showing off his toned body.

Kendal looked away once she realized she’d been staring a little too hard. She’d had previous brief conversations with Kyan. He was the only guy at Sampson who had never once looked her way since freshman year, yet here he was asking her to sit and play cards.

“It’s an easy game,” he said sweetly.

Kendal stood there with her hands on her hips. Her evening was pretty much a bust at this point. She finally threw up her hands, said, “Sure, why not,” and took the empty seat as the dealer dealt her in.

Of course, this wasn’t a regular card game. It was a drinking card game. There were heavy penalties for losing a hand, penalties that involved downing a lot of beer in a very short time. By the time Kendal finally won her first hand, she was drunk.

Buzzing from the alcohol that pumped feverishly through her veins, Kendal couldn’t resist flirting a little with Kyan. Eventually he exchanged a sort of secret, silent, coded look with his friends, who one by one left the room.

“Let’s move to the couch,” Kyan suggested, after they were alone. He stood up and walked over to a sofa upholstered in plaid. Pillow-white stuffing protruded from tears in each of the arms. Kendal remained seated in her hard metal chair as Kyan motioned for her to join him, patting the saggy cushion beside him. She tingled with drunkenness, and a part of her practically pleaded to walk over and snuggle up beside him.

“Come sit over here,” he said, patting the cushion again. “I want to talk to you.”

Kendal studied him for a moment until her curiosity got the best of her. “Why do you want to talk to me all of a sudden?” she asked.

Kyan rolled back his bulky shoulders, “I don’t know. I just do. I think it’s time we got to know each other better.” He smiled widely, revealing a perfect row of ivory beneath full lips.

“You’ve known who I was for the past three years and now you suddenly want to get to know me?” The sharpness in Kendal’s voice caused Kyan to inch up in his seat.

“I guess it just took me three years to get up the courage to talk to you.”

“Well, that’s three years too late,” Kendal told him, turning and walking out of the room.

“Hey, wait a second,” Kyan called after her.

He remained seated on the beat-up couch trying to make sense of what had just happened. His mind worked feverishly, as he tried to formulate a plan on how to get Kendal McCarthy off of her high horse and into his arms.

* * *

The hood of JJ’s sweatshirt was draped over her head as she walked back from the library. Unable to distract herself from thinking of Kendal, she’d gone to the library to get a jumpstart on a paper that was due in a few weeks. She read some intriguing online articles, and they’d provided a definite diversion for her. But reading on the Internet for an hour made her tired. Soon, she found herself straining to keep her eyes open.

A crisp October breeze tickled her bare legs, making her wish she hadn’t worn shorts. She kept her head down, shielding her eyes, and plowed forward over the grass. The sounds of a nearby soccer party were alive and irritating, and JJ pictured the scene of girls and boys stuffed shoulder to shoulder in an overcrowded dorm room. It bothered her to know that Kendal was probably there in the middle of the mix.

Kendal McCarthy was an enigma. She and JJ had nothing in common and their contradictions went far beyond sexual orientation. The truth was, they were worlds apart and nothing could change that.

Stuck in thought, with her hood sheltering her head and her eyes from everything, JJ couldn’t clearly see where she was going. And before she had a chance to look up to see exactly where she was in relation to her dorm, a girl stumbled out of what seemed like midair in front of her.

Whoa,” said JJ. She stepped aside before they collided, but the girl spun around, tripped over her own feet and tumbled to the ground.

JJ pushed the hood off her head and looked sideways at the body slumped on the lawn. At first, seeing no movement, she felt a slight panic travel along the edge of her limbs.

Then, suddenly, the girl sat up with her head still hanging down and her hands wrapped around it like a turban.

“Are you okay?” JJ asked, leaning in closer.

The girl’s head popped up and wobbled a bit before JJ recognized that it was none other than THE Kendal McCarthy sitting in front of her on the damp grass.

“Hi!” Kendal yelled, beaming. “I totally didn’t see you.”

“I guess it should be a rule to wear reflective clothing when walking around campus at night,” said JJ. “Otherwise people run into you from out of nowhere. Maybe hoods should be banned as well.”

Kendal broke into a fit of laughter, which JJ suspected was more the result of too much alcohol than the joke itself.

“Let me help you up,” JJ said, reaching forward and taking Kendal’s hands in hers. They felt frozen. “Are you cold?”

Kendal shook her head, even though she was shivering. She turned around to get a look at her behind. “I think I sat in something wet.”

“It’s the grass,” JJ told her. “It’s damp from the dew.”

“Oh, yeah.” Kendal laughed again, and then stopped as instantly as she’d started. “I need to go home.”

“I’ll walk you. We don’t want any more collisions happening.” JJ led the way from the grass onto a dirt path that connected with the sidewalk.

“I know I’m making a complete fool of myself,” Kendal said, once they reached the sidewalk. “So let me just apologize ahead of time.”

“Have fun at the soccer party tonight?”

“Not really,” said Kendal, making a face. “You’d think the soccer team ran the school with what they get away with. No other group on campus would be able to have parties in their dorms. It’s ridiculous.”

“If you are so against them, then why do you go?”

“Because there isn’t anything much else to do at this school or in this tiny town.”

“I can think of lots of other things to do.”

“Like what? Studying on a Friday night?”

“I do have a life outside of studying,” JJ maintained. “But that’s just what I felt like doing tonight. Maybe you haven’t had a chance to explore anything outside of your little world yet.”

“My little world?” Kendal asked defensively.

“Yeah. The secluded world of Sampson cheerleaders and soccer players.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious. Life is a lot like reading poetry. You have to read between the lines to really get something out of it.”

Kendal rolled her eyes. “You’re tutoring me in poetry, remember. Not life.”

“Poetry is life.”

“Okay, Emily Dickinson, where do you go for fun then? Besides the library, of course.”

“Have you ever gone to The Spot?”

“The coffee shop in town?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” JJ perked up, thinking of the atmosphere of the coffee shop around her. “I love it there. It’s a great place to go and just kick back. Every month or so they have a band come and play.”

Kendal stopped walking. They were in front of her dormitory and she was hugging herself to keep warm, her eyes glossed over from the alcohol.

JJ studied her, feeling as if Kendal was looking through her, rather than at her. It made JJ want to turn around to see if anybody was standing behind them.

“Thanks for walking me home,” said Kendal, after a moment. “I’m sorry for practically running into you. I’ve had a rough night.” She pictured Kyan sitting on the ugly couch, and suddenly blurted out, “Guys are such idiots.”

“Where did that little pearl of wisdom come from?”

“Nowhere in particular.”

JJ didn’t press the issue, and instead let her eyes wander off in the direction of the quad.

“I want to ask you something,” Kendal said, then paused briefly. “But I don’t want to offend you.”

“Ask away. I’m an open book.”

“Okay then,” Kendal hesitated, rewording her question. “My friend Christine told me that you were–that you are–”

“Gay?”

“Yeah,” Kendal fidgeted. “Are you?”

“Would it bother you if I said yes?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t sound so sure.” JJ could only imagine what Kendal’s roommate had said about her. Most of the cheerleaders at Sampson never took the time to even acknowledge her presence, let alone get to know her, just because of rumors.

“No, it’s fine. I’m fine. It wouldn’t bother me at all.”

“Well, then yes, I am.”

“So it’s true? You’re gay?”

JJ took a step back. “I’m not going to hit on you if that’s what you are afraid of.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Kendal. “I was just curious.” Thoughts of her conversation with Christine in the cafeteria that morning traveled across her mind. She suddenly felt ashamed.

“If you aren’t comfortable with me tutoring you now, I’ll understand.”

“No,” Kendal insisted as she took a step toward JJ. “You are an incredible tutor. I was just curious, really. I’ve never known anyone who was, well, like you before.”

It amazed JJ that Kendal had such a hard time saying the word. But at least she didn’t run away screaming. That certainly would have been awkward.

“Consider yourself cultured then,” JJ told her.

They stood in silence as the sounds of the wind and the late night babble of students wandering home from a night out blended into one another and circled around them.

“I should go to bed,” Kendal said, ending the lull in the conversation. She played with her fingers, twisting her thumbs into her palms, and fighting the overwhelming urge to stay there talking to JJ for the rest of the night.

JJ shoved both of her hands into the pockets of her shorts to keep them warm. “I’ll see you next tutoring session then,” she said. “For a little Emily Dickinson?”

“Emily Dickinson, right.” Kendal flashed a quick smile, then turned and walked toward the dorm. Just before she crossed the threshold of the door, she turned back to see JJ’s silhouette blending in with the darkness. Her stride was slight and unsteady. But she was kind and sincere, something Kendal had picked up on the first night they met. It was one of the things that she enjoyed about JJ. It was a refreshing change from her own circle of friends, a change that she hadn’t even known she’d wanted to happen.

Then she thought of Kyan again, smug and moronic, with his hand gently patting the cushion on that disgusting couch. She laughed out loud. In that moment, she understood exactly how Emily Dickinson could have been writing about another woman. She understood because she was beginning to feel the same way about JJ.

CHAPTER 9

A huge gray mass had stretched itself over Sampson Academy and the town of Ashland, Virginia. JJ had spent the rainy morning watching movies with her suitemates, but finally decided to go for a walk to break her cabin fever. Spending too much time in a tiny enclosed dorm room sometimes made her feel as though she were suffocating.

With her poetry journal hidden inside her jacket and a pen in her pocket, JJ strode across the campus admiring the colonial-era buildings and classic architecture. She crossed the railroad tracks that ran directly through the school grounds.

Those tracks had created a Sampson Academy commencement ceremony tradition. The annual ceremony was held on Forrest Lawn, which the train tracks bisected on the west side of the campus. Every commencement speaker throughout Sampson’s history had his or her speech disrupted by a train. Each disruption was met with the attending parents, students and guests yelling “choo-choo” as loud as possible. Tradition has it that good luck was bestowed upon the graduating class if the train’s engineer laid on the horn in return.

Once across the tracks, JJ entered the center of town. She headed up the sidewalk, passing by The Spot and several small craft shops. There was the old gas station with its retro-style gas pumps that reminded her of the 1950s, as if Ashland had somehow gotten stuck there.

Puddles blocked her path, and though she tried to avoid them, both of her sneakers ended up soaked with murky water. The town was deserted, and JJ felt as if everyone was hiding from the storm.

The rain had ceased, but thunder still echoed somewhere in the background. “It’s not that scary!” she called out and jumped feet first into the next puddle. The water shot out in every direction including straight up into the air and all over her. Her waterproof windbreaker protected her sacred journal from getting wet.

JJ had the urge to sit down and get the words that were now flowing through her mind down on paper, but the ground was wet and she was already wet enough. There was a bench on the sidewalk, its green paint chipped from years from wind and rain. JJ wiped the water droplets from the seat as best she could. She pulled her large windbreaker down over her behind and sat down, withdrawing her journal from an inside pocket. She gathered up her pen, along with her thoughts, and began to scribble.

The earth has been turned over

And shaken like a snow globe

Gray powder speckles the sky

Leaving a colorless image.

The streets are empty, except for fog hovering above the surface

Smells of hot tar and muggy air fill my nostrils as

Raindrops the size of mini water balloons bounce off

My jacket, leaving no trace as to where they have fallen.

Muddy puddles stand in my path, begging me to take a swim

Instead, I stomp through them, sending thick muddy splashes

Scattering in all directions.

I never noticed that I was soaking wet.

JJ looked up at the sky and smiled. Every time it rained, she felt as if everything were calm and peaceful. Even if that wasn’t exactly the way she was feeling at that very moment.

Kendal had finally asked her about her sexual orientation last night. It was something she hadn’t expected to happen so soon. JJ recalled Kendal’s goofy stare while sprawled on the damp lawn. She’d grown accustomed to the fact that everything happened for a reason. Whether good or bad, there was a specific reason behind the events that shaped everyone’s lives, including random encounters with cheerleaders on private school library lawns.

JJ peered along the edges of the street, watching an occasional car cross the tracks and listening to the water as it danced down the pavement and trickled into a nearby drain. Kendal was now aware of a part of her that JJ didn’t advertise, although she knew that many of her classmates assumed she was gay. She decided that if Kendal really were as shallow as the other cheerleaders, then her true colors would already have shown. But, deep down, JJ believed that Kendal was different. Good different. And that was part of why JJ was attracted to her. Even if the two lived in two very different worlds.

The dampness of her socks made her ankles begin to itch. The heavy air turned light, as a cool breeze swept by causing JJ to shiver. Her empty stomach grumbled. The Spot would be the perfect place to warm up and get a sandwich. Maybe with some food in her stomach she could think more clearly about Kendal McCarthy. Maybe she could figure out the real reason she was interested in a girl who couldn’t possibly return the same feelings. She was more likely to get struck by lightning than have any kind of relationship with Kendal. JJ looked cautiously up at the sky as she crossed the street.

* * *

“What happened to you last night?”

Christine lay stomach-down on her bed, wearing a dark green facial mask that was hardening. Her long blonde hair was pulled back and tied with a pale pink ribbon.

“You look ridiculous,” Kendal said.

“It’s called a mask,” Christine replied, and tossed her iPhone to the side as if she were annoyed that no one had been texting her. Her jaw barely moved when she spoke. “I repeat—what happened to you last night?”

“You mean after you crashed into Jason’s arms as soon as we got to the party?”

Christine stretched, “Oh, please, like you weren’t in rare form either.”

“Um, I can honestly say that I wasn’t.” As she spoke Kendal sifted through her dresser drawers, not looking for anything in particular.

“So?”

“So, what?”

Christine sat up impatiently. “So Jason said you were alone in another room with Kyan for a while. What happened? Did you kiss him?”

Kendal slammed her sock drawer shut and turned around. “Tempting as it was, no. After the sleaze ball made it clear that all he wanted to do was hook up, I decided to leave.”

“Kendal, seriously?” Christine’s arms spread wide, “Kyan’s not only good looking, but he’s the captain of the soccer team and he’s rich. Hello!”

For the first time since she’d known Christine, Kendal noticed how annoying the word “hello” sounded as it left her lips. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m not going to date someone just because he’s the captain of the soccer team and has money,” she said. “I like to think I have higher standards than that, thank you.”

Kendal turned abruptly and began to rummage underneath her bed in hopes that Christine would go back to scanning the celebrity gossip columns in her magazines.

“We are young, Kendal,” Christine continued. “Who cares about standards? Do you honestly think that I’d be wasting my time with Jason if I were in college? I don’t think so. I’d be dating someone who actually had a head on his shoulders that could be used for something other than heading a soccer ball.”

She climbed off the bed and slid down next to Kendal who was still spread out on the floor, and tugged the back of Kendal’s shirt until she emerged from underneath her bed.

“Look,” said Christine. “I know Kyan’s a conceited moron. Everyone knows that. But I also know that you have been studying like crazy the past couple of weeks and it’s our senior year. I just don’t want you to regret not having a good time before college.”

“Trust me,” said Kendal. “I won’t regret not hooking up with Kyan, the couch monster.”

Christine tried to smile or respond in some fashion but her mouth couldn’t move because the mask had hardened completely. She left Kendal lying on her back staring up at the ceiling while she went to wash her face and get dressed in her cheerleading uniform. They’d be cheering on the soccer players that afternoon.

Kendal took a look at her cheerleading skirt and top, admiring the logo on the front. After the game was over, everyone else on the squad would start getting ready for another soccer party. Kendal longed to lock herself in her room and avoid any and all human interaction. The last thing she needed was another party, another reason to go on pretending she was something she wasn’t, another reason for Christine to nag her the next morning, complaining that she was not having enough fun.

Fun, she thought. Fun was reading Emily Dickinson and laughing with JJ. That was the kind of fun she found herself craving lately.

CHAPTER 10

Queenie had spent practically the entire workout talking about her family. JJ figured that once they were finished with bicep and chest exercises, she would change the subject. But here they were, finishing up on the treadmill, and Queenie was still ranting about her parents.

The athletic center was unusually packed for a Sunday. Other members of the boys’ and girls’ basketball teams were finishing up their workouts for preseason, while the soccer players were working hard to keep themselves at the top of their game for the playoffs.

Then there were the regulars who walked along the track or did the StairMaster for hours while barely breaking a sweat. The crowd of freshmen who frequented the athletic center was growing rapidly and was made up mostly of those unlucky individuals who had gained a few extra pounds and were desperately trying to reverse the effects of too many midnight pizza runs. They’d taken the freedom of private school for granted.

“You should have seen my father,” said Queenie. “You know how my family can go a little overboard with money.”

Overboard, thought JJ. They practically flip the entire boat.

“He’s buying the best of everything for my sister’s wedding, the best caterer, the fanciest ballroom—ugh, it makes me sick.”

“So I take it that the plan to bust up the reception is still on, then.” JJ breathed heavily as they hit mile three, with one more to go.

“You know what they say. Weddings in springtime bring forth love, happiness and gay daughters who want to confess their forbidden lives to their hypocritical and extremely dysfunctional high-society family and friends.”

“No, I’m not familiar with that particular saying,” JJ managed between breaths. She noticed that Queenie wasn’t breathing heavily at all.

“I just need to do it. Not for me, but to wake them up. They need a wakeup call.”

“But haven’t you ever considered just taking your mom and dad aside and having an adult conversation with them?”

Queenie lifted her feet off the treadmill, resting them on the sides as the motorized track moved between them. She fixed her eyes on JJ. “Really?”

JJ felt her mouth go drier than it already was. She knew as soon as she said it, she shouldn’t have. She stepped off of her treadmill and wiped the sweat off her forehead with the towel that hung on the side bar. “I know,” she said gently. “I’m sorry. Sometimes I just think you should try a different approach with them, that’s all.”

“These are the McBrides,” Queenie replied. “The only thing they know how to do is throw money around. They don’t know any other way. I could talk and talk ‘til I run out of air. It won’t matter. They cannot and will not hear me.”

For a brief moment, JJ thought that maybe she saw tears forming in Queenie’s eyes, but because of the sweat on her friend’s forehead and face, she couldn’t tell for sure.

“Sauna session?” Queenie asked, wiping her face with the front of her T-shirt before JJ could say anything else.

“Sure, why not.”

Once in the enclosed steam-stilted walls of the sauna, JJ felt that Queenie finally could unwind. She’d been high-strung and agitated ever since she’d returned from her weekend visit with her parents and the wedding shower madness.

JJ tossed a cup of water onto the stones, releasing a sizzling sound in that enveloped the room. Steam rose up around them.

“I feel like a slab of bacon in here sometimes,” Queenie said into the heavy air. “I bet we could just bring some in, slap it down on the bench and watch it cook.”

“Sauna session and bacon. Yeah, I like the combination.”

“Who wouldn’t? You can cook yourself and your bacon at the same time.”

“The amazing sauna,” JJ added in an infomercial voice. “Eat and instantly sweat away the calories.”

The sizzling ceased and Queenie rolled over onto her side, resting her head on one elbow. “So, how was your weekend?”

“Uneventful,” JJ responded, hoping that the topic of Kendal would not come up.

“And the cheerleading queen?”

Great, JJ thought to herself as she tossed more water onto the stones, sending a burst of steam into the air. “Good, I guess.”

“You haven’t talked to her since your last tutoring session?”

“Well, not exactly. I ran into her on Friday night.”

“Where? At the library?” Queenie knew JJ would never set foot in a soccer party and that Kendal was equally unlikely to set foot into the athletic center, which made the library the only logical option.

“No, I literally ran into her,” said JJ. “Right on the lawn in front of the library. She was coming home from a soccer party and I think she’d had too much to drink or something. My hood was up so I never saw her and we almost collided head-on. I caught myself, but she spun around and fell.”

“That’s priceless.”

“Then I helped her up and walked her home.” JJ recalled the ensuing conversation and Kendal’s engaging laughter. “You’ll never believe this, but she asked me the question.”

“What question?” Queenie was sitting up now, her cheeks dotted with sweat.

“The question,” JJ said again.

“Which is precisely what I am asking you. What question?”

“You know, for someone as quick-witted as you are, you’d think you’d be a little more able to pick up on the obvious. The question, silly. The gay question! She asked me if I’m gay.”

“Well that didn’t take long.” Queenie chewed her lower lip. “It was bound to happen sooner than later. I mean, everyone on campus thinks that the entire women’s basketball team is gay.”

“Aren’t we?”

This was one of the unfortunate consequences of attending a private school in the middle of a small, conservative southern town. Most people at Sampson Academy assumed that if you were a girl who was involved in sports, you automatically belonged to the rainbow coalition.

“So, what did you say?” Queenie asked.

“I told her the truth.”

“And did she run away screaming?”

“Thankfully, no.” JJ sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. “She was . . . she seemed okay with it.”

“Is she still going to let you tutor her?”

“We’re supposed to meet tonight. We’ll see if she shows up.”

Queenie started to say something else, and then stopped.

“What?” JJ asked.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t do that,” JJ scolded. “Just tell me. For crying out loud, it’s getting hot in here.” She could feel the underside of her knees collecting sweat.

“I just think you should be careful. That’s all.”

“Queenie, she’s straight. Remember?”

“Precisely my point. You always fall for the straight girls.”

“I don’t always fall for straight girls.”

“No? Do you really want me to recite the list of names?”

“Okay. So I’ve been attracted to a few straight girls in the past, so what? It’s not like it’s a habit or anything. They were just little crushes, nothing serious.” JJ turned her head and muttered, “Except for the Dibble Syndrome of course.”

“Oh, yes,” Queenie agreed. “The Dibble Syndrome was something special. Thankfully though, the other girls you had crushes on were fortunate enough to be spared your obsessive ways.”

“Cute.”

“But my point is that I don’t think this is just a little crush that you’ve got going on here.” Queenie sat up, clasped her hands together and pointed her jointed fingers in JJ’s direction. “You know how straight girls work, right? Girls like us intrigue them and they get curious. Then, after their curiosity wears off, they freak out and say they were just exploring that side of things and while it was fun and all, what they really want is a guy.”

“Queenie,” JJ sighed.

“It’s true! It’s called the science experiment.”

“I don’t care what it’s called. You’re being ridiculous.”

“Look,” Queenie said pointedly. “I’m not just making this up for your amusement. I’ve been there, I’ve been the science experiment before and it’s not fun. I just don’t want to see you get used or hurt, and I think this situation has the potential to go in that direction. You don’t think with your head in these situations. You follow that emotional lump in the center of your chest instead.”

JJ began to massage her forehead, shielding her eyes.

“I know you like her,” Queenie continued, unabashed. She lifted up her legs and stretched out her sweat-saturated body. “The least you can do is admit that much.”

JJ’s hand dropped swiftly from her eyes, “Okay, so I like her. So what? She’s beautiful and smart and there’s something special about her and I want to find out what it is. There’s this energy between us, I can’t explain, but it . . . .” JJ stopped talking as soon as she realized she had said too much.

“I knew it,” said Queenie. “I knew you liked her.”

“What do you want, a medal?”

“Nah—the simple thrill of being right is satisfaction enough.”

JJ groaned. “Let’s get out of here, I’m about to sweat away to nothing.”

They lifted themselves off of the benches and opened the sauna door. The coolness of the locker room air embraced them and JJ took a long, drawn-out breath to fill her lungs before she went over to the sink and splashed cold water on her hot sticky face.

“Hey,” said Queenie as she wiped off her legs with a towel. “I did mean half of what I said in there. Be careful. And don’t get wrapped up in something just to satisfy Miss McCarthy’s curiosity because it’ll come back to bite you in the end. A straight girl can’t be anything but straight. That’s something that isn’t going to change.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” JJ said as she wiped her face with her shirt before she slipped on her sweatshirt. “She’s not interested in me like that.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know. And I don’t want to let myself get hopeful about something that, quite frankly, isn’t going to happen.”

“No, you don’t,” Queenie echoed.

“She’s a cheerleader after all.”

“That she is.”

“I hardly even know her. The whole thing is just ridiculous.”

“Preposterous, really.”

“I’ll just stick to the tutoring.”

“Stick to what you know best.”

“Are you ready to get out of here?” JJ asked while tying up the laces of her sneakers. “Or are you just going to sit there antagonizing me.”

“You know, they are the most closeted of them all—cheerleaders. I bet any one of these so-called cheerleading camps is a breeding ground for closet lesbians. Hey! Maybe we could do like an undercover operation. You know, like research or something? We can pretend we’re writing a paper about it.”

JJ frowned.

“What? We can at least explore the idea,” Queenie insisted. “It’s not without merit.”

CHAPTER 11

Kyan grunted as he finished the last set of squats on his well-muscled legs that now shook more like quivering rubber. He was pushing himself to the limit. But it wasn’t because he was tired. It was because he was frustrated.

“Hey, don’t push it,” Jason warned as he watched Kyan from the bench beside him. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Relax,” Kyan said, straightening up. “I’m fine.” He breathed in hard and wiped the sweat away from his forehead with the bottom of his muscle tank top.

“You don’t look so good,” Jason remarked.

Kyan glared at him. Then he studied himself in the mirror and frowned. It was true. He looked absolutely horrible. His skin was extremely pale, without the usual hint of golden brown that he’d achieved over the summer lifeguarding at the beach where his parents owned a summer home.

His eyes had grown gloomy and gray, and he bore a fresh scratch just above his left cheek from having been elbowed in the face while trying to head the ball.

They had traveled across the state to play Cartwright, the lowest-seeded team in their division. Lately it seemed as if the entire soccer team was comprised of a group of underweight sissies who didn’t comprehend the meaning of teamwork or dedication. They had been outplayed and outmatched by a less talented team. As a result, they had lost the game, getting pummeled five to nothing. And to make matters worse, Kendal McCarthy had snubbed him completely on Friday night.

After she’d left him sitting alone on that couch, wondering what in the world he could have possibly done wrong, Kyan realized that he was going to have to step up his game just a little bit. Kendal was playing hard to get and while it was a tad annoying, it was also incredibly appealing.

“So what happened Friday night?” Jason asked. “Did you hook up with her?”

Kyan picked up two dumbbells and knelt down on a bench. He started working his triceps, his eyes glued to the mirror so that he could observe his form.

“I thought so,” Jason concluded after a moment.

Kyan immediately dropped the weight from his hand and stood up. “Thought what?” he asked firmly.

“Thought that she was out of your league,” Jason laughed. “Even for you.”

Kyan took a step closer so that his nose was about an inch away from Jason’s. “Who said she’s out of my league?”

“Dude. Relax. It’s obvious that you didn’t get anywhere with her.”

Kyan lunged forward and pushed Jason in the chest.

Jason gritted his teeth, “What’s your problem?”

Kyan glared hard as he tried to think of a good reason to get in Jason’s face. He stood face to face with him a moment longer before he bent over, picked up the weight and began lifting again. “Nothing,” he said between breaths. “She’s just going to be more of a challenge than I had anticipated, that’s all.”

“I hear ya,” Jason said, not wanting to add to Kyan’s salty mood. “It wouldn’t be any fun if she just gave in easily.”

“Exactly.”

“You almost done? I’m hungry.”

Kyan’s stomach was growling so loudly that it seemed to be echoing throughout the entire workout room. But he knew he still had more work to do. His stamina had weakened early during yesterday’s game, so he was determined to work out longer to build up more endurance and strength. “I’ve got more work to do here.”

“All right,” said Jason. “Catch you later then.”

Kyan began to work on stretches with his arms and legs. Maybe he would even head over to the soccer field and take a few shots on net. Though his legs ached, he pushed through the pain. Something else was aching inside him, as well.

Though he had singled Kendal out as the girl he most desperately wanted to be with during his last year at Sampson Academy, he wasn’t even sure he liked her that much. Sure, she was pretty and probably the best-looking girl on campus, but there was something missing. Whenever he thought back to the list of girls he dated, that seemed to be the prevailing issue—something was always missing. But he also knew that it wasn’t the feelings he was supposed to have for them. It was status.

Maybe one day he’d meet a girl he actually cared for, one he’d want to get to know on a deeper level. With that, he centered his thoughts on next weekend’s party, the legendary invite-only soccer party. Each player was allowed to invite one guest. And his guest was going to be Kendal McCarthy. There’s no way she would turn him down. Invite-only was a gathering of all the VIP students at Sampson. And Kendal had a reputation to uphold. Kyan was confident that he would get another shot. And this time he was going to convince her to give in to him.

CHAPTER 12

Kendal had done a good job of avoiding the weekend soccer party scene. She had feigned sickness on Saturday evening and spent the night watching reruns and MTV’s The Real World. Christine got home late. She had stumbled into the room and fallen onto the floor, simultaneously knocking over a stack of books. Kendal had to help her into bed.

As a result, Christine spent the entire morning and part of the afternoon wearing a blue-colored cold pack with eye-holes cut out over her face. She looked like a female version of a modern day Zorro.

In times past Kendal would have been right there with Christine, both of them lying in agony, drinking refillable bottles of water, popping Tylenol,and watching endless hours of Lifetime television. But today, Kendal had gotten up early and gone for a walk. Sometimes it amazed her how beautiful Sampson Academy was, especially in fall when the leaves had begun to change colors. Vibrant shades of red, orange and yellow were scattered amongst the branches reaching high into the sky.

Built back in the 1800s, the campus consisted of colonial buildings made of brick and grand white pillars. Bay windows sat atop four-story buildings fronted by circular porches. All of the buildings were named after local heroes and students who had gone on to become “somebodies.” That was the school motto—Sampson Academy, Be Somebody. Kendal always thought the school motto should be—Sampson Academy, where everyone knows your name and your business.

This was because of the small student population and ensuring that all of the classes had at most fifteen students to one teacher. It was hands-on learning, where every student could get to know his or her teachers on a personal basis. That, plus the beauty of the campus, was why Kendal had been attracted to the school in the first place. Other factors included Sampson’s unblemished academic reputation and its ability to prepare students for college. Kendal’s parents, her father especially, insisted that she go to Sampson so that she could get into a good college. They were afraid that if she attended a public high school she would be on the fast track to community college. It didn’t matter to her parents that the tuition bill left them financially strapped. Education was far more important. For that reason, Kendal felt pressured to get good grades. She hated to disappoint her parents.

At first she hated Sampson because she felt so out of place. She hadn’t planned on getting involved in any school activities. But the appeal of friendships and social interaction sort of swept her up and spit her out, and the next thing she knew, she was a part of the cheerleading team. The other cheerleaders had taken a liking to her right from the start. They invited her to sit with them at their table in the cafeteria and to social gatherings and soccer parties. She finally felt like she belonged.

Kendal’s walk had led her into town to buy some essentials, including tampons and a few snack items such as Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and her one major food addiction, Chex Mix. She passed by The Spot and peered into the window. The room to the left of the main counter was filled with artsy types of paintings on the wall and soft plushy couches scattered haphazardly across a gleaming maple floor. One foamy apple-red chair off in the corner was built in the shape of a giant hand, so you could sit in the palm.

To the right of the counter stood a stage, a very small stage that featured a solid black backdrop with a single brown bar stool in the center. Across the backdrop Kendal read the words, “fantasize reality,” spelled out in big bold white letters.

There were a few round tables in front of the stage and set off to the back of the room, big enough to accommodate just two to three people at a time. Votive candles floated in bowls of water at the center of each table.

So this is where JJ likes to hang out, Kendal thought. She pictured the place filled with random vagabonds and folk singers on the center stage, humming original songs about the meaning of life. This wasn’t the type of place she would have initially guessed that JJ would go to on a Friday night. Rather, she could see her at some sporting event, like a hockey game with a bunch of her basketball teammates, or maybe a local sports bar where ESPN played on ten different television sets, and overbearing drunkards challenged one another to games of pool and darts.

But here was her hangout—a sweet and inviting coffee shop, something of a hidden treasure where she probably spent her time having intellectual conversations with eccentric people. Who knew such things existed in a town built around a soccer rivalry and the annual homecoming weekend packed with games and a lavish parade?

Kendal took a step back from the window and glanced at the hours posted below. Next to the open sign was a poster that read, “Poetry Slam Every Friday Night.” The first prize winner won fifty dollars and publication in a local writing magazine called Scattered Thoughts. She wondered if JJ knew about the contest.

JJ.

Kendal hadn’t thought about her conversation with JJ since Friday night, until that moment. A nervous sensation erupted inside of her when she thought about the fact that she’d be seeing JJ at the library in a couple of hours.

She felt slightly ashamed for being so blunt and asking JJ about her sexual orientation. It really was none of her business, but Christine had planted all of those thoughts in her head in the first place. And Kendal’s curiosity was something that she always had a hard time controlling.

Once, when she was about five, she’d found a book of matches in her mother’s purse. Although she knew they were dangerous, she desperately wanted to see what would happen if she struck one really fast. Well, something happened all right. The entire matchbook caught on fire and in a panic she’d dropped it into the bottom of the purse. Her mom’s favorite bag had gone up in flames, and was reduced to a gooey, ashy, black mess in the middle of the living room floor.

Though the incident had left her unharmed, she would be scarred for the rest of her young life with the nickname Curious Kendal, given to her by her older brother. There were other occasions where Curious Kendal struck with reckless abandon, many of which could be forgotten, but each satisfying an overwhelming urge to see just what would happen or to simply find out the truth. That’s exactly why she’d asked JJ about her sexual orientation. Kendal grabbed her cell phone out of her purse and checked the time. In just a few more hours they would be meeting at the library. She tingled in anticipation.

* * *

Once back at the dorm, Kendal slowly opened the door to her room, afraid to disturb Christine, who she sometimes alluded to as Sleeping Beauty. But as soon as she spied Christine’s body, it became obvious that her roommate was awake.

“Ughhhh,” Christine moaned, curled up in a fetal position and clutching her iPhone. “I think this is the worst possible hangover I’ve ever had. You know what I need?”

“Alcoholics Anonymous?” asked Kendal, smartly.

“Funny. No. I need some grease, you know?” Christine pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. “What do you think about pizza?”

Kendal paused. “I like pizza, but I think I like it best when it’s just cheese. You know, the perfect combination of cheese and sauce. And thick crust, I like thick crust.”

Christine dropped her hand to her side heavily, as if were weighted down. “Is there a particular reason why you’re being such a sarcastic snot right now?”

Her eyes bore into Kendal, who busied herself sifting through the pile of books on her desk.

“I’m sorry,” Kendal returned, thoughtfully. Normally sarcasm wasn’t something she played at, but she was irritated at watching Christine wasting the day in bed, dramatizing herself. Although she recognized her passive-aggressive manner, it still provided a way to release her irritation. Nevertheless, she dropped the attitude. “You were saying—”

“Pizza, I was saying. Let’s get some pizza for dinner.” Christine sat up now, the prospect of food taking hold. She fiddled with her iPhone and started looking up the number for a local pizza place. “And then we could rent a movie, some sappy romantic comedy or something.”

“Can’t,” said Kendal, without the least bit of regret. “I’ve got a tutoring session in the library. I’m going to eat at the dining hall, and then head straight over. Maybe Laurie will want to do pizza.”

Laurie, another cheerleader who lived in their dorm, though slightly overweight, was quite proud of her junk food addiction. In fact, Laurie let it be known that pizza was one of the five important food groups, at least in her world.

Kendal often wondered if Laurie laundered money from the cheerleading fund and dues collection to buy the enormous amount of junk food and goodies that she kept stashed in her dorm room closet. Every time they hung out in Laurie’s room, Kendal half expected to find cardboard boxes full of Oreo cookies, potato chips, candy bars and the like sitting somewhere amidst the clutter.

“More tutoring with the lesbian?” Christine asked. Her tone brushed hard against Kendal’s ears.

“Why do you have to even bring that up?”

“Because she is.”

“She has a name. It’s JJ. Maybe you should try using it.”

“What is your deal? You’ve been acting strange ever since you started hitting the books so hard.”

“I don’t have a deal. What I do have is a tutoring session with a girl who’s kind of cool, and I think that maybe you should stop judging people when you don’t even know a thing about them.”

Christine climbed out of bed, and evened out her pajama shorts. Her lips were moving, and Kendal sensed that she was choosing her words carefully.

“I know all I need to know about her,” she said coolly. “And don’t forget, I know you, too.” She casually grabbed her robe off of the back of the door and pulled it on. As she was tying the knot around her waist, she looked up at Kendal. Her eyes were icy. “I don’t know who you are trying to be lately, but it sure isn’t the Kendal McCarthy that I know.”

She pulled the knot tighter and tossed Kendal one final cold look before she left the room.

Fuming, Kendal threw her books into her backpack. What bothered her most was the fact that Christine somehow managed to sneak in the last word.

“I know me,” she said aloud in the vacant room, her voice overflowing with anger. “I know myself better than anyone, and I also know that for the past few years I haven’t been the real me.”

In the middle of her monologue, she stepped on something squishy lying on the floor. She bent over, picked up the ice mask that Christine had been wearing, and threw it at her unmade bed.

“You don’t know me at all,” she spat. “So take your little beauty mask and shove it.”

CHAPTER 13

JJ was at the library much earlier than she needed to be. She’d skipped going to the dining hall with Queenie, afraid that she might get distracted or delayed by needless conversation. Instead, she enjoyed a healthy portion of ramen noodles, the chicken-flavored kind, and some crackers. She also took a long time to select an outfit. Normally she would go to the library wearing nothing more than jogging pants and a sweatshirt, but today she felt like raising the bar just a bit. She put on a pair of jeans and a vintage T-shirt from the Gap. Instead of wearing her usual baseball cap, she decided to slather some gel in her hair and spike up the ends just so. She even sprayed on some cologne for good measure.

Now she sat in the library at the same table Kendal and she had been at last time, her knees shaking slightly. Every so often, she caught a whiff of her own cologne and smiled. At the very least, she certainly smelled good. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She took it out and read a text message from Queenie, “Beware of the science experiment!” All JJ could do was laugh.

She stuffed her cell phone back in her pocket, and idly thumbed through a book of poetry she’d pulled off one of the shelves. She kept a watchful eye on the door as she reread each sentence. Somehow, she’d missed seeing Kendal storm her way into the library, and looked up only when the girl reached the table. Kendal’s bag of books landed on top of the table with a resounding thud.

“Hi,” she said, her face expressionless.

“Um, are you okay?” JJ asked cautiously.

“Me? Yeah. I’m fine.” She reached into her bag and pulled out the bag of Chex Mix she had bought earlier. “Except for the fact that I’ve just now realized that I’ve wasted all my time here at Sampson on a group of girls who are mostly small-minded and lack any substance at all.”

“That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

Kendal slid down into the chair next to her. “No. I think it’s dead on,” she snapped. Then she slid the bag of Chex Mix over to JJ who politely declined. Kendal shrugged and began snacking mindlessly. “I’ve known these girls for three years now and they don’t even have one small clue about who I really am.” She tucked her hair back behind her ears, which caused JJ to look at her in amazement.

“Wow, you have tiny ears.”

“What?”

“Your ears. They’re tiny. And cute.”

“Yeah,” Kendal said. “They’re small. So what?”

“Nothing. I—I just noticed. That’s all.” JJ instantly wished that she could censor her thoughts before they spilled out of her mouth without her consent. “Uh, about your friends—is it possible that maybe you just haven’t let them in? You know, let them in to get to know the real you?”

“So it’s my fault?” Kendal’s hand smacked her own chest. “Is that what you are saying?”

“I’m not pointing fingers,” said JJ quickly. “All I’m saying is that friendships involve at least two people, right? And each person has to give a little in order to get a little. If you don’t let them see the real you, how are they supposed to get to know the real you?”

Kendal halted her rant. She hadn’t thought of it that way.

“It’s just an outside opinion, of course,” said JJ.

“I get what you’re saying. I think I’m just frustrated with everything in my life now. Before it all made sense, but somewhere along the way I’ve changed and suddenly nothing makes any sense to me anymore.”

“Trust me, I know the feeling.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. Before I accepted the fact that I was gay, everything in my life seemed simple. I had boyfriends and everything made sense. And then suddenly it all began to change. I wasn’t happy with anything anymore and I couldn’t understand why. Things that I once enjoyed became boring to me or unimportant.” JJ looked down at her empty hands and then at Kendal. “But once I figured out the root of it, things began to fall into place again. Now I know that this is who I am and who I’m happy being. Things in my life make sense again.”

“That must have been hard, holding something like that inside without telling anyone. My problem is that I don’t even know the root of why things have changed for me.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s because you are gay,” JJ said with a smirk.

Kendal laughed. “No, I don’t think so either.” Though lately she wasn’t so sure.

“Maybe you are just changing as a person. It doesn’t have to be anything specific. Could be as simple as your outlook on life or what has become important to you now, as opposed to when you were a freshman. I think that when we get to college, we’ll do a lot of soul-searching and find out who we really are. You’re just getting a head start.”

“I feel like I can really talk to you,” Kendal said suddenly. “Sorry for going off like that. I know you’re my tutor, and not my counselor.”

JJ felt her face grow hot, and she knew she was blushing. She stared ahead, avoiding Kendal’s eyes.

“I’m glad. It’s, uh, important to feel comfortable with your tutor.”

Kendal repositioned her chair at the table and moved closer to JJ. “Okay. I feel better. And I think I can actually concentrate on studying.” She unzipped her backpack and took out a purple folder and a couple of books. “So, back to poetry. Let’s do this one first.”

She opened one of her book to a page marked with a yellow sticky note, and then slid the volume over to JJ.

JJ regained her composure and looked down at the page.

“A Letter to Daphnis,” she read. “Anne Finch was a talented woman.”

“I’m sure she was. I think I prefer Dickinson, though.”

“How come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I finally understand her poetry now, and I don’t want to move on to other authors.” Kendal forced a laugh. “Stick to what you know, right?”

“I don’t think you’re giving yourself enough credit,” JJ reassured her, easing into a smile, admiring the dips along the edge of Kendal’s lips and how they were most visible whenever Kendal seemed self-conscious.

“What?” Kendal asked, nervously brushing a strand of hair from face.

“Nothing,” said JJ.

They read the poem together as JJ pointed out a few key lines to help Kendal make sense of the poem as a whole.

“Finch was a true feminist, though she didn’t want that to override the fact that she was still deeply in love and could be in love, while still maintaining her sense of self. In this poem, she expresses how, though it is difficult, one can still find a happy medium between being both a devoted lover and an opinionated woman at the same time.”

“That must have been hard back then,” Kendal said. “In those days most women gave up their dreams and ambitions to be housewives.”

JJ’s head bobbed in agreement, “Exactly. And in this poem, Finch makes it clear to her lover that she has no such plan in mind. She writes, ‘Judge not my passion, but my want of skill. Many love well, but express it ill.’ See, she wants him to know that though she is driven, and, like you said, has her own dreams, but at the same time, that doesn’t mean she can’t love him with all that she has. In fact, she loves him more fully than some women who have no ambition at all.”

“Wow,” said Kendal. “That’s pretty intense.”

“Yeah, it is.”

Kendal flinched. “I hope I didn’t sound like a ditsy cheerleader just then.”

“You didn’t at all. Just don’t start saying totally every other sentence.”

Kendal flipped back her hair. “This poem is like, totally awesome.”

JJ nudged her shoulder, “Cute.”

“You’re not at all what I thought you were,” said Kendal.

“What did you think?”

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t know what to expect.”

“I understand,” said JJ. “When I found out I was tutoring you, I didn’t know what to expect either. All I knew was that you were popular and last year’s homecoming queen.”

“And that I was probably just like all the other cheerleaders.”

“Maybe at first,” said JJ. “But you’re not. You’re different.”

“Different, how?”

JJ shrugged. “You just are.”

They continued to regard one another, until JJ’s knee once again began to shake involuntarily. “I’ll be right back,” she said, standing up quickly.

As she pushed her chair back from the table, she accidentally knocked over her bag, which had been resting on the floor. Her journal spilled out, and she tripped over it.

“Whoops,” JJ said, feeling nervous and clumsy. She plucked up the journal and set it on the table before she walked away.

Kendal eyeballed the journal. It looked pretty beat up, the edges frayed and the binding worn. She could feel her famous liquid curiosity pumping through her veins.

Just one quick peek, she thought. Then she’d set it right back down. She reached for the journal, and flipped it open close to the middle. Her eyes quickly scanned the words scribbled across the page. It appeared to be a poem titled First Kiss.

She sneaked a peek to make sure JJ wasn’t anywhere in sight before she began to read with reckless abandon.

Darkness looms

I cannot see

I feel your breath upon my skin

Sparking a nervous warmth

I reach for you

Sliding my palm across your cheek

So softly, afraid you’ll break

Whispers reach my insides

Pulling them into knots

My flesh trembles

With each caress

Until your lips find mine

Timid at first touch

Growing hungry with each kiss

My mind races

No clear thoughts, just dizziness

Into you I slowly melt

The images were so vivid, so real, that Kendal could feel the tingle on her skin, just as if she were the person in the poem. She had to read it again. She was about halfway through when she felt someone leaning over her. She quickly set the book down onto the table, and then shook her head apologetically.

“I’m sorry. Your journal was just lying there, and I was wondering if it was poetry or something. I swear I wouldn’t have read it if I’d known it was personal or—“

She stopped talking as soon as she looked up. Kyan Stevens, who she now thought of as Kyan the couch monster, was standing next to her chair, looming over her like some creepy, ominous shadow. Kendal could feel his supposedly innocent brown eyes examining her thoroughly from head to toe.

“Hey,” he said with an overconfident grin. “Christine said you were here.”

“Christine? Really?” Kendal cursed her roommate under her breath. “Did she mention I had a tutoring session?”

“No. She just said you were in the library pretending to study.”

Kyan wasn’t carrying a backpack, so Kendal knew he had no intention of actually studying himself. He was there specifically to hit on her. How wonderful?

“Well, I’m not pretending. I’m actually studying.” Kendal shuffled a few loose papers in front of her and started to write something down, hoping he would take the hint and leave. He didn’t.

“Listen,” Kyan said smoothly. “You’ve probably heard that the team is having our legendary invite-only party next Friday night.”

“Um, no. I haven’t heard anything at all.”

“Really? Everyone’s talking about it.”

“Nope. Haven’t heard a thing.”

Kendal was lying, of course, because it was all any of her friends could talk about lately. Everyone was texting about who was going to get invited, and who was going to be left out. Last year, Christine almost had a nervous breakdown when she realized that she hadn’t been invited. A day before the party she’d tracked Jason down, hooked up with him, and the next day he dumped his original invite to invite Christine instead. She and Jason had been dating ever since. Back then Kendal had been impressed by Christine’s persistence. Now, she found it pathetic.

“Each member of the soccer team invites a girl to come to the party,” Kyan continued. “It’s exclusive.”

“I know what it is,” said Kendal. “I was there last year.”

“Oh.”

Kendal could tell that she was throwing a huge rock in Kyan’s pond of smoothness. It was as if he wasn’t used to handling a few ripples.

“Well, anyway,” he pressed on. “I came here because I wanted to let you know that I want you to be my invite.”

My, he puts it so nicely, Kendal thought. “I’m honored,” she said instead. “Really I am, but I have this thing next Friday that I can’t miss.”

“I’m sure you can get out of it,” said Kyan. He put his hands on the table and leaned in. “You’d miss a really, really fun time with yours truly.”

JJ approached the table at that moment. Her face was still damp, because she’d splashed water on it before realizing that the bathroom was out of paper towels. So she’d tried to stick her face under the blow dryer. That got extremely hot very fast, so now her moist face was a nice shade of pinkish-red. She sat down without glancing at either Kendal or Kyan.

Kendal watched as Kyan studied JJ carefully before he resumed his failing attempt to ask her out. “I promised JJ I’d be at the poetry slam contest at The Spot next Friday,” she blurted, reaching over to pinch JJ’s leg.

“Right!” JJ jumped. “Right, next Friday. I made her promise to go with me.”

Kyan considered their story. “Maybe another night then,” he mumbled finally and walked away.

“What was that about? And what poetry contest?” JJ asked, rubbing her leg where Kendal had pinched her.

“Next Friday,” Kendal exclaimed. “I sort of forgot about it until now. It’s at that coffee shop you like, The Spot. I think you should enter.”

“You’ve never even read my stuff,” JJ reminded her.

Kendal bit her lip. “That’s not entirely true.” She tapped JJ’s journal with the tip of her pen. “I only read a little bit. It was just sitting there and I took the opportunity to read it. I’m sorry.”

JJ quietly realized that any humiliation she’d expected to feel if anyone ever laid eyes on her writing, simply was not there. Instead, she felt delighted that Kendal had wanted to dip into that side of her.

“I read the one about someone’s first kiss.” Kendal shifted curiously in her seat. “Was that—about another woman?”

“Yes,” said JJ. “It was my first kiss, just as I described it.” She swallowed hard. “Can I ask what you thought about it?”

Kendal’s eyes lit up. “It was incredible.”

JJ swallowed again as Kendal leaned in so close that JJ could feel the warmth of her breath. “I’d like to read some more. If you’ll let me.”

For some reason it was hard for JJ to share her poetry with other people, but not because poetry was personal. It was hard because she was afraid of what people would think. She was afraid of their reaction, of what they might say. And she was even more afraid of what Kendal would think, of what she might say.

“So, is there something going on with him?” JJ asked, eager to change the subject. She heard a tinge of jealously in her voice, and hoped Kendal hadn’t picked up on it.

“Who? Kyan?” Kendal dismissed him with a simple wave of her hand. “He’s so full of himself. Suddenly, it seems I’m high on his ‘to date’ list.”

“From what I hear, his ‘to date’ list is a lot shorter now than it was when he was a freshman.”

“That’s because he hooks up with anything that walks. I don’t know what he’s thinking, though. I’m not going to fall all over him just because he happens to be the captain of the soccer team.”

“It’s good to know that you have morals.”

“Well, I’m one of the good girls,” said Kendal. “I was raised right.”

“I guess so.”

“So, about this poetry slam thingy. Are you going to do it?”

JJ shook her head. “I go to open readings and poetry contests all of the time,” she explained. “They have one every Friday night. I just don’t participate.”

“Why not?”

JJ looked at Kendal momentarily, and then averted her eyes, embarrassed at what she was about to admit. “I have a fear of being on stage.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I’m serious. I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that. I used to play the saxophone when I was younger, maybe like ten or so—”

“The saxophone?”

“I’m explaining to you why I have stage fright,” said JJ impatiently. “See, we had this talent contest one year at school, and I thought I was the best saxophone player in the world. And when the contest came up, I got on stage and played the only song I knew. And during the whole thing, everybody in the audience started to laugh, because I kept playing the wrong notes and about halfway through the song, I froze.”

JJ closed her eyes, remembering the harsh sound of the contemptuous laughter that circled through the auditorium around her. “I ran off stage so fast, I almost ran into the wall in the hallway. I’ve never been on another stage since.”

“That is so sad,” Kendal said.

“It basically scarred me for life.” JJ forced a laugh as she opened her eyes again. “Good thing I don’t plan on having a career in acting or anything.”

Kendal hesitated then asked, “Don’t you think it’s time to confront that fear?”

“I’m trying,” JJ said quietly. “But it’s different with this. Writing is my life. I never played the saxophone ever again after that day. And if something happened, if I got upset on stage, I might freak out and give up writing altogether.”

“That would never happen.”

“But it might. I can’t take that risk. Writing is my life.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.”

“Said what?”

“That writing is your life.”

“So?”

“So, that alone should tell you how important it is to you, and that no matter what happens while you are up on stage, you’d never be able to give it up.” Kendal put her hand on JJ’s shoulder. “You have a gift and you should be able to share it with other people.”

“Come on,” JJ rolled her eyes. “You sound like my mother.”

“Well?”

“Well, what? I’m not going up on stage. I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Kendal said, releasing her hand from JJ’s shoulder. “I’m just saying that maybe we could work on it, you know. I mean, I’m interested in your poetry and you need to practice sharing it. So maybe you can practice with me.”

“Maybe,” JJ said, desperately wanting to change the subject. She never thought she could have revealed something so personal to Kendal so easily. “It’s getting late. Are you going back to your dorm?”

Kendal debated the question. “I suppose I should,” she said, without enthusiasm. She glanced at her cell phone and saw that Christine had sent her nearly a dozen texts since she’d arrived at the library. Kendal had a hunch they were about Kyan.

Kendal shoved her phone into her purse and watched as JJ slid her poetry book into her backpack. She felt a pang of guilt erupt in her chest. “Hey—”

JJ looked up.

“Thanks for not getting mad at me for reading your poem. I want you to know that I really did like it and I meant everything I said.”

“I’m glad.” JJ smiled. “You are the only person who’s ever read it besides me.”

Their eyes locked for a moment and Kendal felt an electric sensation travel the length of her arms. She instantly looked away.

They left the library and JJ offered to walk Kendal back to her dorm. As they reached the front of the building, JJ turned and asked one of the questions she’d been pondering along the way.

“Were you serious about next Friday night?”

“Serious about what?” Kendal asked, though she knew exactly what JJ meant. “You participating in the poetry contest?”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” JJ paused and then plunged forward. “Would you still like to go, though? I mean, go with me? There are some great poets around here, and some of the writing is amazing. It might help you with class and—”

“I’d like that,” said Kendal. “I’d like that a lot.”

JJ took a deep breath. “Cool,” she said, then instantly winced. “That sounded really dumb, didn’t it?”

“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 was 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 that 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.

Kendal figured that Kyan would be in his room sweating with anticipation. She reached the stairs and took a deep breath. Christine owes me big time, she thought.

Once she reached the third floor, she entered the hallway and saw empty pizza boxes and garbage bags everywhere. Music boomed from an open door, even though no one was in the room. She peeked into the room and saw dark stains of God-knows-what scattered all over the carpet. Something that smelled of pepperoni and cheap cologne hung in the air. Kendal made a face, rounded the first corner, reminding herself not to touch anything accidentally. She continued to walk to the end of the hallway, holding her breath when she saw that the door to Room 41 was open just a crack. She knocked slightly, and then pushed it open.

Jason was sitting on a couch watching football, and Kyan was laying face down on his bed, reading what looked like a textbook.

“Busy?” Kendal asked when he looked up.

“Studying,” Kyan said, motioning to the book.

Kendal got the feeling that he was trying to make a good impression on her. “I’ll be quick,” she said.

“It’s okay.” Kyan hopped off the bed and threw the book aside. “I was ready for a break anyway.”

He looked over at Jason who appeared to be engrossed in the football game. It took him a minute before he looked up, and realized that Kyan was staring at him.

“Oh, my bad,” Jason said. “I’ll leave you two alone.” He stood up and gave Kyan a slight punch in the arm as if to say, “Go get ‘em.”

“You don’t have to leave,” Kendal said hurriedly. “I’m just going to be a minute.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jason replied, already halfway out the door. “I’ll watch the game in Kyle’s room.” He nodded at them and closed the door behind him.

Kendal held her arms close to her sides, not sure what to do with them. This was more uncomfortable than she’d imagined it would be.

“Have a seat,” Kyan said. He plopped down on the couch and turned off the television.

Kendal remained standing. “So, you know that invite party you were talking about the other night?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was thinking about it, and if you still haven’t asked anyone, then I’d like to go.” She was secretly hoping that he’d already asked someone else. “Just as a friend, of course.”

“As a friend,” Kyan repeated. He tapped his hand on his knee as if he were mulling it over. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Well, yeah. I haven’t asked anyone else yet, and I wanted you to be my invite, so it’s all good.”

Kendal decided to point out the stipulations because there was still a hope that he might change his mind afterwards. “Of course, by friends I mean that you shouldn’t plan on making a pass at me in any way, shape or form. Sure, we can hang out and talk, but that’s basically it. If your hands start drifting anywhere I view as off limits, I’m out of there.”

Kyan opened his mouth to respond, and then thought better of it. “You must think I’m a slime ball,” he finally said.

“I’m sorry?” Kendal asked. That was the last thing she’d expected him to say.

“To say something like that, you must think I’m a complete jerk.”

“Well, you do have quite the reputation.”

“I know,” Kyan said, regretfully. “I’m not proud of it. So, if the only way you’ll feel comfortable around me is by telling me that you just want to go as friends, then I understand. I guess I’ll just have to prove to you that I’m genuinely interested in you.”

Kendal couldn’t believe it. Either he was an extremely good actor or he was actually earnest, and she’d severely misjudged him.

“I appreciate that,” she said. She took a big breath, feeling slightly better about the whole situation. “I’ll see you Friday night then.”

“Sounds good,” Kyan said. He rose to his feet and opened the door for her. “Wait. I thought you had that poetry thing or something on Friday?”

“I do,” Kendal said. “I’m going to that first and then I’m coming here. So, I’ll probably be a little late.”

“I didn’t know you were good friends with that girl from the basketball team.”

“JJ?”

“Yea, the one you were at the library with. I’ve seen her play a couple of games. She’s pretty good.”

“She’s my Women’s Literature tutor,” Kendal said. “We’re just getting to know each other.” She tried, but she couldn’t help but smile. “She’s so smart. I mean really smart, not just about school stuff. I’ve never met anyone like her before. She’s so sweet and—”

Kyan was staring at her awkwardly.

“Um, she’s cool, you know?”

“Right. So I guess I’ll see you Friday then,” he said.

“Yeah, Friday,” Kendal confirmed. She left the dorm feeling like a fool. If she’d planned on hiding her growing feelings for JJ, she was going to have to do a far better job. What if anyone found out? What in the world would she do then?

CHAPTER 16

Kendal sat staring at her mashed potatoes in the dining hall on Thursday night, thinking about how closely one lump resembled Justin Bieber.

“What’s eating you?” Christine asked. She was sitting directly across from Kendal, enjoying a small side salad.

Kendal looked up. Her eyes were hollow, and she was sure the dark circles beneath them made her look like a football player on a bright, sunny day. She hadn’t slept at all last night because she’d had a frightening nightmare about her Women’s Literature class.

“You look horrible,” Christine added.

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m just speaking the truth.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Problem?”

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I know. You were tossing all around and kept mumbling something about Emily Dickinson.”

Kendal yawned. How could a single subject torment her so much? She wondered. She picked at the food on her plate and shoved a piece of roast turkey into her mouth. It tasted like rubber. “I have a pop quiz in my Women’s Literature class tomorrow,” she said after spitting the meat out into a napkin.

“Well, at least your teacher informed you of the pop quiz. Mr. Marks just whips out a quiz as soon as we walk through the door. And of course he chooses the most complicated math problems, ever.”

“I think I’d have a heart attack if Ms. Chin ever did that. But thankfully she told us there was going to be a quiz. She even told us which author. The only problem is that she didn’t tell us what poem it was going to be on. That’s what I’m nervous about.”

“So study,” Christine said.

“I’m going to,” Kendal told her. “But I think I need some extra help.”

She was eager to get in touch with JJ for an emergency tutoring session because this quiz was a big deal. She needed a good grade to help boost her average for the semester. And she’d been making some major progress that she didn’t want to mess up.

In some ways, she was afraid to try to study by herself. But the truth was she wanted an excuse to see JJ again before Friday.

“Last minute tutoring session?” Christine inquired.

“Yes. It’s a must.”

“Why can’t I just help you?”

Kendal laughed emphatically. Her stomach seemed to settle for a moment, so she seized the opportunity to shove a big spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth and swallow it down before her stomach changed its mind.

“What’s so funny?” Christine asked, obviously offended.

“The idea of you tutoring me on an English class.”

“What’s the big deal?”

“Christine,” Kendal said firmly. “You are a math guru. What do you know about women’s poetry and literature?”

“I happen to be one—a woman that is. That’s all the knowledge I need.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yes.” Christine tossed her hair back and tied it into a ponytail to show that she was ready to get down to business. “Let me see what you are studying right now.”

Kendal looked her up and down. “You’re serious?”

“Kendal, I had to take my fair share of English class requirements, too.”

Kendal held back her tongue. She knew Christine was extremely smart when it came to solving quadratic equations, but as far as literature was concerned, her idea of a classic novel was Twilight.

“Come on. Out with it,” Christine demanded.

Kendal slid her tray aside and rested her backpack on the table. She shuffled through it for her notebook as she watched the rest of the girls at the table start to pack up their things and head back to the dorm. In a matter of minutes, she and Christine were the only people left at the cheerleaders’ table.

Kendal looked around the dining hall as she shoved her notebook over to Christine. The soccer team was just coming in for dinner, but the rest of the dining hall was empty, except for a speckling of students who had decided to grab a late dinner.

She looked hopefully over at the basketball table. Unfortunately, it was empty.

Christine inspected the notebook in front of her. “Who in the world is Anne Killigrew?”

“Give me that,” Kendal said and snatched the folder back.

“What? I just asked a simple question.”

“How can you help me understand her poetry when you have no idea who she is?”

Christine slouched in her chair, yawned, and picked up her iPhone as if she’d suddenly grown bored with the idea of helping Kendal study. “Come on, let’s get out of here. My behind is sore from sitting.”

Kendal pretended to be engrossed in the pages of notes in front of her.

“Earth to Kendal?”

“What?”

“I said ‘let’s go.’ I’m starting to smell like dining hall food.”

Kendal planted her eyes at her notes instead. “I think I’m going to stay here just a little bit longer,” she said.

“Are you serious? For what? You can study at the dorm.”

“I know, but it’s quiet here now and—“

“And you want to wait and see if your girlfriend shows up?”

“Cute, very cute.”

Christine whistled loudly and said, “Caution. You are now walking a fine line between heterosexuality and homosexuality.”

“Will you knock it off already!” Kendal shouted. A couple of other dining hall stragglers at a nearby table turned their heads. Kendal retuned her voice to its normal pitch. “I’m just going to look this over for a few minutes and then I’ll head back to the dorm.”

“Fine,” Christine said. “Whatever. Just remember you have to be back by nine. We’ve got curfew tonight.”

“Ugh. I forgot. Okay—I’ll be back in time.”

“Good. The last thing I’d want is for you to not to be able to cheer on Saturday. You know how Mya can get.”

“Yes, I know how Mya can get.” Kendal exhaled loudly. “Can I have some peace and quiet now?”

CHAPTER 17

JJ sucked in as much air as she could before she sprinted from one end of the gymnasium to the other.

“Come on, JJ,” Coach Cook hollered. “Point guards lead from the front, not from the back.”

JJ grimaced as she bent down to swipe the painted black line that gleamed at the baseline of the basketball court. She looked over at Queenie who was mouthing what Coach had just said, and snorting.

“We’re sprinting, not goofing off, McBride,” Coach Cook bellowed. “Thanks to you, the whole team has to give me ten more.”

JJ gave Queenie her best “nice going” eyes, but Queenie just stuck out her tongue and took off running. She usually led the pack because of her lengthy stride, and could quite possibly give a gazelle a run for its money in an open field. It also helped that she’d been a top performer in cross country for three years in a row, winning numerous accolades and praises from area sportswriters who predicted she would go on to compete at the Division I level.

They had been wrong, of course, as Queenie had chosen to play basketball during her senior year at Sampson instead of running cross-country, much to the chagrin of her parental units. Whether Queenie missed running competitively or not, JJ didn’t know. But she figured that Queenie cared more about infuriating her parents than she did about her athletic prowess. And that was all the reward she needed.

JJ, on the other hand, despised running, in any way, shape or form. Running just to run was pointless to her. There needed to be some sort of object involved, like a basketball for instance. She needed something to give her a reason to run. She was always amazed at how Queenie could just go for a run around campus, and chalk up about five miles as if it were nothing.

The team finished the sprints, and at the end JJ somehow managed to unearth a second wind and dashed as fast as she could from one end of the gym to the other.

“Good finish, Jenkins,” Coach Cook noted.

JJ bent over and clung to her knees, sucking in every breath. As much as she hated running, Coach Cook believed it was the best way to get into top condition. She ran them into the ground from late September to the middle of March, or whenever the basketball season was over. It didn’t matter how worn out the team was, they always started with sprints and ended with sprints. Whenever they lost a game, they would spend the next practice running from one end of the court to the other until they dropped to the floor in exhaustion.

“Conditioning, ladies,” Coach Cook stressed. “It’s all about conditioning. It’s always the team that’s in better shape that wins the game. That’s what matters in those last five minutes, that’s what allows you to play your heart out, and leave it all on the floor.” She believed that all games were decided within the last five minutes of play, regardless of the score.

JJ stood up and held her hands behind her head to clear her lungs. She watched Coach Cook pace two steps to the left and two steps to the right in her electric-green warm-up suit. She suddenly wondered how many warm-up suits Coach Cook had in her closet at home. It seemed as if it was all she ever wore.

Connie Cook was a fascinating woman. Her salt and pepper hair was just a snip away from being classified as a mullet. Rather thin but muscular, on the weekends she often could be spotted striding along the country roads of Ashland that stretched for miles through endless acres of farmland.

It was also rumored that Coach Cook was part of the team, the lesbian team, that is. Queenie said it was just a matter of time before Coach Cook admitted to belonging on the “dark side.” But JJ wasn’t so sure. She knew that Coach Cook lived with the Dean of Students, who also was rumored to be a lesbian. But Coach Cook never talked about it, so if the two of them were, in fact, a couple, it was definitely top secret.

Queenie, though, never missed an opportunity to tease Coach Cook about her sexual ambiguity.

“That’s why you’ve been running so much these past few weeks,” Coach continued. “And why you will continue to run hard for the rest of the season. You freshmen have to get into shape, and you upper classmen should be taking these fresh fish under your wings and training them outside of practice.”

It was the same little talk she always gave at the end of practices during the season. After three years, JJ was sure that she could recite word for word at least ten of those so-called pep talks.

“Okay,” Coach Cook barked, then clasped her hands together and stole a quick glance at her watch. “Looks like you’ll still make it to the dining hall if you hurry it up.”

“What are your plans for dinner, Coach?” Queenie asked. “Is the missus waiting for you at home, having prepared a nice candlelight dinner?”

Coach Cook drew in a patient breath. “As a matter of fact, I am the one who is cooking tonight. I have to get home and start on some grilled chicken. The candlelight is optional.”

“How sweet,” Queenie added.

Coach Cook ignored her. She was so above Queenie’s remarks that she merely brushed them off her shoulders. The rest of the team huddled together and put their hands into the middle of the circle. “Team!”

“See you tomorrow, ladies,” Coach Cook said. “Enjoy the delicacies of the dining hall.” With that she winked at Queenie.

”Hurry up and change,” Queenie said, as she and JJ dragged their aching bodies back to the locker room. “I’m starving!”

“What was that about?”

“What was what about?”

“The wink. Why did Coach wink at you?”

“I didn’t notice.”

JJ gave Queenie a slight shove, “Yeah, right. Have you two been bonding lately?”

“Can we get to the dining hall before we discuss the intricacies of my newfound relationship with Coach? I need brain fuel. I can’t think straight. In fact, I’m seeing two of you right now.”

“Fine,” said JJ. “But quit being so dramatic, will you?”

“Why? I’m so good at it.”

They rushed to peel the sweaty clothes off of their bodies and toss them into the laundry basket. Then they threw on some warm-up pants and their team sweatshirts before they hightailed it out of the athletic center and over to the dining hall.

They somehow managed to slide through the doors just as the head chef was locking up for the evening.

“That was a close call,” Queenie huffed. She dashed through the food line, tossing everything in sight onto her tray.

JJ opted for tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. As she studied her tray, she suddenly wished she were eating Coach Cook’s grilled chicken instead.

Queenie was quite content with her amply stocked tray, which consisted of a healthy portion of mashed potatoes and turkey slopped with gravy, bread, chocolate pudding, a side salad and a tall glass of milk.

They sat with the other members of the basketball team, who were all busy eating while simultaneously complaining about the excessive amount of sprints Coach Cook had been forcing them to run.

As soon as JJ sat down she glanced at the cheerleading table. Her heart fluttered the second she saw Kendal sitting there. Kendal appeared to be engrossed in the papers in front of her. The rest of her table was empty. In fact, the whole dining hall was practically empty except for a few soccer players lingering by the dessert bar. She forced her attention away from Kendal and back to Queenie.

“So?”

Queenie looked at her blankly. Her cheeks were bulging, full of mashed potatoes.

JJ winked at her.

“Oh, that,” Queenie said, swallowing her food and waving her hand in the air. “That was no big deal. Coach and I see eye to eye now.”

“How so?”

“Remember yesterday when I sort of mouthed off to her?”

JJ remembered all right. She’d never seen Coach turn that shade of purple before. “Sort of mouthed off? Queenie, you told her to take her whistle and shove it up her—”

“I know, I know.”

“You told me she yelled at you pretty hard after practice.”

“She did.”

“Okay, I’m confused.” JJ stirred her tomato soup with the crust from her grilled cheese. “Why is she so friendly with you all of a sudden?”

“After she was done yelling at me, I was sitting there in silence. And just as I’m about to apologize, Dean Hoffman walks through the door.”

“Wait a minute. Coach usually closes the door when she’s yelling at someone.” JJ recalled the time she got verbally blasted for having seven turnovers in one game last year.

“She was so angry with me that she was already yelling when we walked into her office, and I think she just forgot to close the door behind her. And at that exact moment, we both were just sitting there not saying anything, and I don’t think Dean Hoffman realized anyone else was in there.”

“So—” JJ said eagerly.

“So as Dean Hoffman was walking through the door, we both turned our heads at the same time.” Queenie leaned forward, “JJ, she was carrying a rose and the first thing she said, without looking up, of course, was ‘Sweetie, I’ve got a surprise for you!’”

“No way!”

“Yes way! As soon as she saw me there, she tried to hide the rose behind her back and kept stumbling over her words.”

“What did Coach do?”

“She stood up and pushed the dean right out of there and closed the door behind her. You should have seen the look on her face, JJ! It was classic.”

“So, what now? You basically can say whatever you want to her without getting into trouble.”

Queenie took a sip of milk. “I wouldn’t say that,” she explained. “But I’d say that I’ve at least got some leeway now as far as teasing goes.”

“Only you,” said JJ. “This kind of thing only happens to you.”

“I can’t believe that Dean Hoffman was dumb enough to bring a rose to Coach’s office,” Queenie continued. “I mean, if they were trying to keep their relationship such a secret, you’d think that they’d be a little more careful.”

“Well, I’m sure if she saw the door open and didn’t hear anything inside, then she assumed that Coach was alone.” JJ pushed her tray aside. “So, did she admit it then? Did she finally admit to being gay?”

“She tried to play it off like it was nothing. So I stood up and said, ‘It’s okay, Coach.’ Then I winked and walked out of the office.”

“So that’s where the wink comes in.”

“I guess it’s like our new lesbian secret sign or something.”

JJ reached her hand across the table, “Well done, McBride, well done.”

Queenie shook JJ’s hand with pride and leaned back in her chair, “Never a dull moment, my friend.”

JJ was about to stand up to dispose of her tray when suddenly she saw Kendal McCarthy right next to her.

“I need your help desperately,” Kendall said. “I have a pop quiz tomorrow and I wanted to brush up on a few things. I figured you’d be catching a late dinner because of basketball practice so I waited for you.”

“You waited for me?” JJ asked.

“Yep. Never a dull moment, indeed.” Queenie stood up to stretch before picking up her tray. “I guess I’ll be going now. You two kids have fun.”

Kendal barely even noticed Queenie. She immediately slid into the vacated seat and dumped her books and folder onto the table.

JJ looked on in wonder.

“I know. I’m a complete mess,” Kendal confessed. “All over a stupid quiz.”

“No, it’s okay. But—” JJ pointed at the clock. “They’ll probably kick us out of here in the next ten minutes. Do you want to study someplace else?”

“You can come to my dorm room,” Kendal suggested.

“What about the library?” JJ asked, thinking a neutral setting would be more professional.

“I can’t. I have curfew tonight.”

“Curfew?”

“I know it sounds silly, but it’s a good way to make sure everyone on the squad gets their homework done before the weekend and is rested for practice on Friday and the soccer game on Saturday. Mya, she’s the captain of the squad, came up with it, and she enforces it. I have to be in my room by nine. She even comes around to check and make sure we are there.”

“What happens if you’re not there?”

“We don’t get to participate in practice on Friday afternoon or the game on Saturday. Mya does it on Thursday nights because she knows everyone on the squad would throw a fit if we had to have a curfew on Friday nights.”

“Makes sense.”

“So?”

“So I’ll come to your dorm,” JJ agreed. “But I need to go back to my dorm and shower first.”

“Okay,” Kendal said eagerly. “Thank you. Thank you so much!”

“What time?”

“How about in an hour?”

“Fine.”

They both stood up.

“I owe you big time,” Kendal said adamantly.

“Just remember to keep our date on Friday,” JJ returned. “And that will be enough.”

Kendal held her backpack to her chest. She thought of Kyan and how she was meeting up with him at the soccer party later on that same evening.

JJ studied her expression. “You remember our plans, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Kendal said. “The coffee shop. I remember.” How could she forget?

“Good. I was just checking. I’ll see you in an hour then.”

Kendal nodded. She wondered if JJ could sense how she was feeling. Was it obvious that she liked the way JJ smiled awkwardly whenever she was nervous, or that she liked the way JJ smelled, or how cute it was the way JJ tripped over her words whenever—

“Excuse me, miss?”

Kendal stared up into the eyes of the sweaty line cook standing before her.

“We’re closing.”

“I was just leaving,” Kendal said politely.

CHAPTER 18

“A curfew,” Queenie asked with a raised eyebrow. “The cheerleading squad has a curfew?”

“Don’t start,” JJ returned.

“Come on. You don’t think it’s funny at all?”

“No, I don’t. Coach should give us a curfew, too. Then maybe we’d play better.”

“Whatever,” Queenie said. “If Coach gave us a curfew, I’d quit. I’m not about to let basketball impede my social life. I switched to basketball from cross country to get away from that stuff.”

“I know,” JJ started for the door. “I’ve been regretting your decision ever since.”

“Wait!” Queenie sprung up from the couch and thrust her iPhone at JJ. “For documentation. Your cell phone takes crappy pictures.”

“What?”

“Come on, you’re going where no one on this campus has gone before—THE Kendal McCarthy’s dorm room. We can use this to our advantage! Just sneak a few photos.”

JJ shoved the iPhone back at her. “You need professional help. Do you know that?”

Queenie eyed the object in her hand, “What did I say?”

* * *

JJ walked swiftly across campus to Kendal’s dorm. Most of the cheerleaders lived in the same dormitory. Each door on Kendal’s floor was decorated with the school colors, Sampson Academy paraphernalia, and little cheerleader cutouts.

Interesting decor, JJ thought as she knocked against Kendal’s door. A rather thin blonde, straight out of the pages of Vogue, opened the door. JJ recognized her. She often sat with Kendal in the dining hall.

“Pedaling cookies?” she asked.

“Pedaling poetry,” JJ responded and held up her notebook.

“Oh, right.” The blonde forced a smile and moved aside. “Come on in.”

JJ stepped through the door and into the room. She caught a glimpse of the adjoining suite, which was decorated a lot like the door to their room. “There’s a lot of school spirit in here,” she said.

“Cheerleading,” the blonde said, proudly. “School spirit is a way of life.”

“Let me guess. You’re also on the squad?”

“Wow. No wonder you’re a tutor. You sure are quick.”

Kendal walked into the room. “Thanks, Christine,” she said to the blonde.

JJ could tell her words were less than heartfelt.

“Friendly people you got here,” JJ said, as soon as Christine had left the door room and closed the door behind her.

“I’m sorry,” said Kendal. “That was my roommate, Christine. She’s taking a class in attitude adjustment. Have a seat.”

JJ took in the entire room and eyed the posters of popular musicians that papered the walls. Over Kendal’s bed was a spread of family photos. Her flowered bedspread was covered with stuffed animals.

“This could be the room of any popular girl in America,” said JJ. Only, she didn’t mean it the way that it had come out.

“Am I that transparent?” Kendal asked as she plopped down on her bed, offering JJ some Chex Mix

“I didn’t mean it like that,” JJ backtracked, taking a handful from the bag. “I just think there’s more depth to you than this.”

“I’d like to think there is,” said Kendal. She wasn’t used to this kind of attention. She wasn’t used to someone wanting to get to know more about her than what she presented. It was flattering, yet awkward, but she loved every minute of it.

“Like what?” JJ asked.

“Like—” Kendal thought for a moment. “Like the fact that I’m the youngest in my family. I mean, really young. My oldest brother is in his late twenties, and my other brother is twenty-five. I was—unexpected. I think that’s why I always feel a step behind.”

“In what way?” JJ sat down on the bed beside her, well aware of how little space remained between them.

“Because I was an afterthought. My parents were done raising children by the time I came along, and my brothers either didn’t have or didn’t want to make the time to play with me or be there for me. I had to do and learn a lot on my own.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It was.”

“So—what else?”

Kendal leaned closer to JJ and whispered playfully, “It’s a secret.”

“Why is it a secret?”

Kendal turned her head and clicked the roof of her mouth with her tongue like she had the other night when they stood outside of her dorm talking. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t want to tell you everything at once.”

“Okay,” JJ smiled mischievously. She was more than happy to play along. “How about we make a deal then? Every time I let you read a poem, you reveal something to me about yourself that I don’t know. Deal?”

Kendal let that idea marinate. “Okay,” she said, after a moment. “That’s fair.”

JJ slid off of the bed and down onto the floor. She leaned her back up against the comforter, setting her folder and her book in front of her. It wasn’t long before Kendal sat down next to her, bumping her shoulder as she settled into position.

“So, who’s the pop quiz on?” she asked, trying to distract herself from the scent of Kendal’s perfume.

“Anne Killigrew.”

“Really? She’s amazing. One of my favorites.”

“I don’t even know who she is.” Kendal pointed to one of the poems. “I’ve never even heard of her before and I think that’s why I’m having such a hard time understanding the message that she was trying to get across in her poems. I don’t know what poem the quiz is going to be on, but I know it’s about this author at least.”

“I think you’ll like Killigrew,” said JJ.

“Why’s that?”

“Because she was a strong woman. See, Killigrew was not only proud to be a writer, but she was also proud to be a woman. And even though men adored her poetry, she wasn’t accepted as a real writer because she was a woman.”

“But that’s not fair.”

“Look here, at this line in Upon Saying My Verses Were Made By Another. See how she says, ‘my numbers they admired, but me they scorned’?”

Kendal considered the words on the page, “Right there?”

“Killigrew believed that it was the Greek gods who gave women the power and will to write, but didn’t bless them with the opportunity to be recognized.” JJ cleared her throat. “It was unfortunate that the very same people, men in this case, who helped circulate her writing also ended up taking credit for it.”

“What did she do about it?”

“Well, she refused to compromise herself or her art. She disappeared for a bit, even though she kept writing for the rest of her life. Most of her work was discovered much later on.”

Kendal slumped back against the bed, as if she was the one whose freedom of expression had been so rudely denied. “Do most of her poems talk about the struggle of being a woman in those times?”

“I’d say so,” said JJ.

“I can’t imagine what it must have been like.” Kendal shook her head. “So many restrictions—women not being able to be who they really were.”

“I would have never survived, for obvious reasons.” JJ closed the book in front of them. “I wouldn’t have been able to come out back then, or at least I wouldn’t have wanted to for fear of persecution. And being closeted is the worst thing in the world.”

“What did it feel like,” Kendal asked, “when you came out? How did it feel to finally be able to tell people?”

JJ opened her mouth to explain, and then stopped. Instead, she dug her hand into her backpack and retrieved the tattered journal that Kendal had seen before. She licked her thumb, and paged through it until she found what she’d been looking for.

“Here.” She slid the journal over to Kendal, who took it willingly. “This explains it better than I can.”

“To be out,” Kendal read out loud. She read the rest of the poem in silence.

Release.

Relief from my shoulders.

This boulder that I was able to push aside,

Leaving me stable, with the sensation

That I have nothing to hide.

Freedom.

Free at last.

Looking past the fear in my eyes,

Beyond the tears, without hesitation

I see clear skies.

Pride.

Raising my head high.

The shallow dread I left behind,

I looked inside and saw myself.

I believed in me.

Courage.

Having the strength to stand.

You gave me your hand without thought,

With this gesture you taught, a life-long lesson

I am normal after all.

Kendal’s eyes grew as she finished reading the last line of the poem. “You are an amazing writer, you know that? You pour everything, every emotion into words so it’s like I’m right there experiencing it with you. It’s like Dickinson.”

“It’s not like Dickinson,” said JJ. “It’s not even close. My writing hardly compares to with hers. She was one of a kind.”

“Come on. I bet you wrote about ‘wild nights’ somewhere in here,” Kendal laughed. She began flipping through the journal, hunting for another poem when JJ pulled it gently from her hands.

“What?”

“You owe me a secret, remember?”

“Oh, right,” said Kendal. “I forgot about that part.”

CHAPTER 19

JJ’s creative writing class was going to end up giving her an ulcer or worse, possibly even a nervous breakdown. And there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

On occasion, Mrs. Clark surprised the class by handing out copies of someone’s work from a previous assignment. Usually, this was a huge compliment because it meant that Mrs. Clark was impressed, so impressed in fact that she wanted to share the work with the rest of the class. The only drawback was that the selected authors always were asked to stand up and read their work aloud in front of the entire class before a general discussion.

JJ dreaded the day that her work would be shared with the class. She hoped that she’d be able to keep flying just under the radar, turning in assignments that made a positive impression on Mrs. Clark, but, at the same time, were overshadowed by the work of someone else. It soon became apparent that JJ could fly under the radar for only so long.

That day, the one that had provoked countless nightmares in which JJ awoke from a dead sleep drenched in sweat with her heart racing, turned out to be today.

As soon as the class was seated, Mrs. Clark gave JJ an encouraging nod. And at that moment, JJ knew. She knew even before the simple white sheet of paper with the title of her poem in big, bold letters written at the top landed on her desk.

Her stomach curled itself up into a ball, and she was hit with the urge to run to the bathroom.

Before JJ could escape the claustrophobic classroom walls, however, Mrs. Clark cleared her throat. It was her obligatory signal that she was about to start class. The chatter ceased. Everyone sat up straight. And all eyes were focused at the front of the room.

“Class, today I would like to start off by discussing a poem that was handed in last Friday as part of your free writing assignment.”

Free writing was done before the close of every class. Students were to use the last fifteen minutes to write whatever popped into their heads, whether it was the beginning of a novel, a short story, a journal entry or a poem. It didn’t matter. They were free to write whatever they wanted. And JJ had written a poem.

It wasn’t just a few scribbled lines though, like many of her previous free writing efforts. This poem had flown effortlessly from her pen as if by its own will. She’d been thinking of her relationship with her mother, and how her mother had always wanted a daughter who was just like her. She’d wanted a daughter who was girly, who liked cheerleading and boys. JJ was the exact opposite. Their relationship had suffered because of it, because JJ felt that she’d never lived up to her mother’s expectations.

She’d written the first line on a whim, hoping for some closure. The result was a poem that was far more personal than she’d originally intended.

“JJ, would you stand up please and read your poem for the class?”

JJ stared up at Mrs. Clark, unable to move. She felt the sweat gather under her arms and the nausea swell in her stomach. Her heart sped up to a pace that the rest of her body couldn’t possibly match.

She looked down at the flimsy paper in her hands. Her lips moved slowly, mouthing the first line, but no audible words came out.

“You might want to stand up,” Mrs. Clark advised. “And speak up a bit.”

JJ’s legs were like two masses of jelly. She trembled as she stood. Her mouth was as dry as a stale piece of bread, and her tongue stuck to her teeth. She tried to speak once more, and again no sound emerged.

With all those eager eyes upon her, JJ felt as though she was under a microscope. She glanced from face to face in a panic, her eyes darting around the room so fast that she felt dizzy.

“JJ—are you okay?” Mrs. Clark asked.

“I’m—I’m not feeling so well,” JJ managed. “May I go to the restroom?”

Mrs. Clark nodded, and JJ bolted from the room. Only she didn’t head to the restroom. Instead, she ran through the front doors of the classroom building and burst out into the open air.

She breathed heavily, taking in each breath slowly and releasing it more slowly than the last. When her heartbeat returned to normal, she sat down on a nearby bench. She knew Mrs. Clark would be wondering where she’d gone, but she also knew that if she went back to class she’d have to read the poem to everyone. And that wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever.

Instead, JJ sat contentedly on the wooden bench, admiring the fresh landscaping along the stone path that led up to Heath Hall, the building for English classes. She waited until students began to file out the front doors, signaling that her class had ended. When the last couple of students trickled out, she stood up and walked back inside to retrieve her belongings from the classroom.

Mrs. Clark was still in the room, shuffling through papers on her desk. JJ tiptoed in, and then cringed when she heard Mrs. Clark’s nasal voice.

“Are you okay? Where did you go?”

JJ straightened up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. “I didn’t feel good, so I decided to leave class.”

“Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“This didn’t have anything to do with me asking you to read your poem in front of the class, did it?”

“No.”

“Because that would be a shame. Of all the writing I go through day in and day out,” Mrs. Clark tapped the stack of papers at her desk, “this is by far one of the best poems I have read in a long time. It deserves to be shared with the class. And the class deserves to hear it.”

“You mean you didn’t read it or discuss it after I left?”

“It’s not my poem to read. It’s yours. It’s yours to share.”

“But—what if I’m not exactly comfortable with—what if I don’t want to share it?”

Mrs. Clark made a slight clicking tsk-tsk sound, and removed her glasses from her face. “I can’t force you to read it, JJ,” she said. “But I will ask you this—what good is writing, what good is art for that matter, if you can’t share it with the world? Part of this class involves active participation. And by participation I mean interacting with your classmates, offering criticism of their work, and taking in criticism of your own. How else do you expect to grow as a writer?”

“Emily Dickinson never shared her work,” JJ reasoned.

“And Dickinson died without ever realizing her true potential.”

“Maybe she wanted it that way.”

“Maybe she did. But is that what you want?”

JJ said nothing.

“I’d hate to have to lower your grade simply because you refused to read your poem out loud.” Mrs. Clark relaxed back in her chair and gently folded her arms across her chest. “Be prepared to have another go at it on Monday.”

“All right,” JJ muttered and walked toward the classroom door. “I’ll read it on Monday.”

“I’m not doing this to be mean,” Mrs. Clark called after her. Her teacher’s words stopped JJ at the threshold. “I’m doing this because I think you are a very talented writer. But you’re not as confident in your writing as you are, say, on the basketball court. I’m giving you an opportunity to take a last-second shot and win the game. To shine in the spotlight because I believe in your talent, just as your basketball coach believes in you. Understand the correlation?”

JJ nodded. She understood. And she was flattered that Mrs. Clark had taken such an interest in her writing. But that didn’t mean she liked the idea any better. It didn’t mean that the thought of having to share her work in front of the entire class still didn’t scare her to death.

CHAPTER 20

Practice that afternoon felt like it lasted an eternity. JJ couldn’t concentrate. She kept thinking about her writing class and the fact that her date with Kendal was only a few hours away. Coach Cook had finally incorporated a ball into practice, and JJ ruined a golden opportunity to teach the freshmen about what it took to start for the Sampson Lady Yellow Jackets basketball team. She missed easy shots from the elbow of the lane, flubbed numerous breakaway layups and had the ball stolen right from her hands three times in a row by an overzealous freshman eager to make it into the starting lineup.

The locker room afterwards was extra stuffy, and not because of the sweat. Unlike JJ, Queenie, as usual, had another outstanding practice, garnering such comments from Coach Cook as, “Nice job, McBride” and “That’s how a starter practices, ladies. Watch and learn. Watch and learn.”

“Where was your head today?” Queenie asked as soon as they reached the locker room.

“That’s something I would expect Coach to say,” JJ replied dryly.

“Hey, relax.” Queenie peeled the headband from her forehead. “I’m just checking in. You’ve been out of it since this morning.”

JJ leaned against her locker, “I’m sorry, I just have a lot on my mind.”

“Like cheerleading queens and dates at coffee shops?”

“Kendal has nothing to do with it.”

Queenie held up her hands in surrender. “Touchy, aren’t we?”

JJ was about to confide in Queenie about what had happened earlier during writing class when Coach Cook loudly cleared her throat behind them.

“Jenkins!” She barked from the doorway. “May I see you for a moment?”

JJ cast her eyes at Queenie, who stifled a laugh. Just what I need, JJ thought.

Once in the confines of her office, Coach Cook closed the door tightly behind them. JJ remembered Queenie’s story about Dean Hoffman walking in, carrying a rose. At that moment she felt the urge to wink at Coach Cook just to see what she would say.

“You know me, JJ, I don’t like to kid around when it comes to basketball,” Coach Cook said. “So I’m going to get straight to the point. And the point is that you played horribly today.”

“I know, Coach,” JJ acknowledged. “I didn’t play well at all.”

“Didn’t play well? That’s an understatement! I don’t start players who perform like that. I don’t have to remind you of what it takes to be a starter for this team, do I?”

JJ lowered her eyes to the ground, “No, Coach.”

“You are the starting point guard. You are the floor general. How do you expect to lead the team during a game when you can’t even be a leader during practice?”

JJ opened her mouth to respond but Coach Cook cut her off.

“I expect more from you, JJ,” she said, as her feathered hair flapped in the breeze coming from the fan on her desk. “You’ve been a part of this team for three years, a big part of it. You brought Queenie to the team. And you two are my senior captains. I need you to play with confidence.”

Apparently, you’re not the only one who expects more from me, JJ thought.

“I hope that you get over whatever was ailing you today and come ready to play tomorrow. You better get your game in gear. I’d hate to have to start a freshman in your place for our very first game of the season.”

JJ felt Coach Cook’s eyes zero in on her.

“Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Coach,” she replied.

“Good.”

JJ arose from her chair and exited the office, feeling even worse than she’d felt earlier that morning when she’d abandoned her writing class.

“Everything okay?” Queenie asked. She was already showered and dressed, sitting on a locker room bench, playing with her iPhone.

“Peachy,” JJ said.

“Don’t worry about Coach,” Queenie said.

“Easy for you to say. Coach is like your best friend now.”

Ignoring that comment, Queenie asked if JJ wanted to join her for dinner in downtown Richmond.

“I think it’s about time I charged up my father’s credit card,” she said. “They just paid the last balance off earlier this week.”

“You can be such a jerk with them,” JJ snapped.

“Says you.”

“I’m busy tonight, remember?”

“Oh, right. Your non-date with the non-lesbian. So sorry I can’t be a fly on the wall for that one.” Queenie punched JJ lightly in the arm. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

* * *

Kendal stood in front of the floor-length mirror, wondering about her outfit. She’d decided on a pair of hip-hugger jeans, a slimming red graphic T-shirt, and a matching red hooded sweatshirt. She stood facing the doorway, admiring her backside when Christine came into the room.

“You’re wearing that?” Christine asked. Clearly, she wasn’t a fan of the outfit Kendal had chosen.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?” Kendal asked, admiring her jeans. “I thought I looked good.”

“You do. But maybe you should wear something a little sexier for Kyan’s benefit.”

Kendal groaned. When she’d gotten dressed that evening, she hadn’t been thinking of Kyan. She’d been thinking of JJ, and, as a result, it had taken much longer than she’d anticipated to pick out an outfit.

“For the umpteenth time, I’m only going to this party tonight with Kyan as friends.”

“Right,” Christine smiled wryly. “So how long is that poetry thing going to last again?”

Kendal shrugged. “I have no idea. I’ve never been to one before.” She went back to studying herself in the mirror.

“I can’t believe you are going to go with her.”

Not again, thought Kendal. She’d been over it a billion and one times with Christine. She wanted to go to The Spot. She wanted to try something different. It was as simple as that.

Christine flopped down on top of her bed, stomach-first. She casually flipped through the pages of one of her many magazines as Kendal continued to scrutinize her own appearance. Kendal ran her long fingers through her hair, pulling it back and swinging it forward, mulling over which way accented her features better.

“So—what are you going to do if she makes a pass at you?” Christine asked still staring at the pages of her magazine.

“Christine!” Kendal spun around. “Why would you even ask that?”

“I don’t know. I’m just asking. Personally, I’d be creeped out.”

“Creeped out? Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”

“No, it’s the truth.”

“You wouldn’t be flattered at all?” Kendal couldn’t help smiling at the thought of JJ flirting with her.

“Flattered? Kendal, that’s gross!”

“Why is it gross? It’s just one person finding another person attractive.”

Christine shuddered as if the thought of another woman making a pass at her would make her severely ill. She stood up and grabbed Kendal by the arms.

“Promise me you’ll be there tonight.”

“What?”

“Promise me you’ll come to the party tonight.”

“I already told you I’d be there. Why do I have to promise?”

“Because I’m asking you to. As my roommate, teammate and confidante.” Christine held out her pinky. It was the way the members of the cheerleading squad sealed all of their most sacred promises and secrets.

“Fine,” Kendal said, linking her pinky with Christine’s. “I promise.” She sneaked a look at the clock on her dresser. “Can I go now? I’m going to be late.”

Christine reluctantly stepped aside. “Go ahead,” she said. “But don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

CHAPTER 21

JJ sat down in a chair in the school lounge. Then she stood up. After a minute, she sat down again. Then she checked her cell phone, just in case Kendal had tried to call or send her a text. But she hadn’t. She crossed her legs, then slumped back in the chair and spread her legs wide. After realizing how ridiculous she looked, she stood up again and leaned strategically against the chair.

It probably didn’t matter one way or another to Kendal whether JJ was sitting or standing when she walked through the doors. But for some reason JJ thought that if she gave a good impression right from the start, then the rest of the evening would go just as smoothly. But considering the way her day had unfolded so far, it couldn’t get much worse.

JJ’s palms had been sweaty all day. She continued to wipe them on her shorts and jumped every time someone entered the lounge.

It had been quite the dilemma whether to use gel in her hair or wear a baseball cap. In the end, she’d decided that by not wearing a hat she would be showing off her softer side. And that was the side she thought Kendal enjoyed the most.

JJ shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her cargo shorts and studied her fresh white pair of Adidas sneakers for scuffs. The baby blue polo shirt she’d chosen to wear was tucked in just so, and she’d even ironed it before putting it on.

JJ noticed a black mark near the heel of her shoe, leaned over and tried to rub it out. She bent down as far as she could without falling over, licked her thumb and ran it over the mark. At that moment, the doors swung open and in walked Kendal.

“There’s something you don’t see every day,” she said, pointing at JJ’s backside.

JJ’s head snapped up. She quickly stood up straight, and wiped her hand on the back of her shorts. “I was—uh—there was something on my shoe,” she said, silently cursing herself for sounding so stupid.

“Right,” Kendal smiled. “That’s exactly what I thought you were doing.”

“Wow. You look amazing,” JJ blurted out. Once the words left her lips, she realized what she’d said. “I mean—you look nice and everything, you know?”

“You clean up pretty good, as well,” Kendal said, admiring JJ’s outfit. “I like you without a hat better, I think.” She had the sudden urge to reach out and touch JJ’s hair, but resisted.

JJ adjusted her shirt and picked up her backpack. “You ready?”

“Do you take that thing everywhere?” Kendal asked, pointing at the backpack.

“What? This?” JJ held the backpack in front of her. “I keep some of my favorite books in here. And I like to carry my journal with me, too. I never know when I’ll be hit with something inspiring.”

“Ever hear of a purse?” Kendal held up her small white bag sprinkled with red polka dots.

“Can you imagine me carrying one of those?” JJ took Kendal’s purse and swung it over her shoulder. Then she batted her eyes at Kendal, who started laughing.

“You’re right,” Kendal said. “You look ridiculous.” She snatched the purse back from JJ’s hands.

They walked side by side across the quad to the edge of the campus. Several students crossed their path, some staring at them in wonderment. It wasn’t often that a cheerleader and a member of the girl’s basketball team were seen walking anywhere together at Sampson Academy, let alone appearing to enjoy one another’s company.

The looks didn’t bother JJ. She’d grown accustomed to the glares and stares she and Queenie often garnered whenever they were out in public together. They didn’t seem to bother Kendal much, either, and JJ assumed that Kendal had grown used to people looking at her simply because she was beautiful.

“How was your day?” JJ asked, genuinely interested.

“Uneventful,” Kendal responded blandly. “Yours?”

“You don’t want to know.” JJ nonchalantly kicked the curb as they stepped up onto the sidewalk.

“Now you’ve sparked my curiosity,” Kendal said.

“Let’s just say that everything today that could have gone wrong did go wrong. But suddenly I feel a lot better.”

Kendal flashed JJ a knowing smile, and then looked away, afraid her expression would reveal everything she’d been feeling lately. The more she thought about it, the more confused she’d became over how another girl could make her feel this way. She recalled Christine’s comment about being hit on by a woman, and laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just thinking of something Christine had said before I left.”

“What did she say? Make sure to carry a can of mace?”

“Not quite.”

“She doesn’t like me very much, does she?”

They were in front of the coffee shop now, lingering on the sidewalk as the night wrapped itself around them.

“Christine doesn’t know you. That’s all,” said Kendal. “I wouldn’t worry about it. I’m glad you asked me to come with you tonight.”

“Me, too,” JJ said, smiling. She reached for the doorknob, but Kendal had grabbed it first. Their hands closed on top of one another’s and remained clasped longer than they needed to be.

“I was—I wanted to get the door for you,” JJ struggled to explain.

Kendal laughed nervously, unsure of how to respond. Her hand still burned from JJ’s touch, giving off a sensation she hadn’t recalled ever feeling before. She walked into the coffee shop in a haze, with JJ directly on her heels.

They sat in the corner near the window, at a secluded table that offered a full view of the stage in the back of the room.

“What time is the poetry slam?” Kendal asked.

“I don’t know,” JJ said, hoping the stage would remain empty as long as possible. The last thing she wanted was a bunch of talented poets who lacked stage fright to impress Kendal with their tapestry of words while JJ sat quietly at their table.

A roving waitress appeared, and both JJ and Kendal ordered hot chocolate before embarking on a spirited conversation that carried on effortlessly over the next couple of hours. They talked about anything and everything they could, and neither of them held back.

“I have no athletic ability whatsoever,” Kendal confessed. “Once, during a tryout for the 40-yard dash, I tripped over my own two feet and knocked the runner in the lane beside me off the track.”

JJ laughed. “You’re joking.”

“I’m quite serious actually. It was so embarrassing. But forget about me, what about you? I can’t believe you were in a beauty pageant.” Kendal shifted in her chair and placed both hands face down on the coffee table in disbelief. “Did you win?”

“I didn’t even come close. When it came to the talent portion, I panicked and ran off stage.” JJ recalled the day of the pageant, how she’d been dressed in a nice gown and felt so out of place. “It was awkward to say the least. And when I show them the pictures, people who know me as I am now don’t believe that it’s me.”

“You have pictures?”

“Sure do. My mom had one framed and it’s still sitting on the fireplace mantle at home. It’s like she’s holding on to something I used to be.”

“Did you look that different?”

“Totally different. I wore make-up, and my hair was long. It came down past my shoulders.”

“Wow. I have to see those pictures.”

“No, you don’t. I want you to know me as I am now, the real me, not the younger me that was insecure and confused.”

“Do your parents know about you?”

“You mean—do they know that I’m gay?” JJ licked her lips. “I told them after my sophomore year at Sampson.”

“Was that hard?”

“Incredibly,” said JJ honestly. “It was probably the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my life so far. It was tough explaining that I was the same person inside that I had always been.”

“Same? How?”

“Personality wise, I’m the same. But back then I acted different, and tried to fit in. I was very uncomfortable in my own skin.”

“I know what that’s like.”

“You?” JJ asked skeptically.

“What—you think I have it easy?” Kendal straightened up, clearly offended. “I’m so sick of everyone thinking that just because I have a pretty face that I must have it easy in life.”

“I didn’t mean to—”

“When I first came here,” Kendal continued, “everyone assumed that I was this pretty girl with no brains. And because I knew that everyone thought that, I became that. I played the role. I played the pretty girl who wasn’t smart.” Kendal sat back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. “I’m still playing the same role now.”

“I’m sorry,” JJ offered. “I didn’t know.”

“You said you felt uncomfortable in your own skin? Sometimes I feel so uncomfortable in mine that I wish I could be someone completely different for a day just to see how it would feel. So what if I’m popular? So what if I was homecoming queen last year? It means nothing to me. I admire you so much because you know who you are and you know what you want out of life. I have no idea who I am. And it’s sad that after three years I don’t feel like I’ve changed at all. I’ll probably go off to college and fit the same mold as I did in high school.”

“But you are changing,” JJ professed. “There’s so much more to you. You’re so open and willing to put yourself out there. People who are closed-minded are the ones who don’t change. Look at Christine. I bet she’ll be the same person in college as she is now.”

“Before I met you, I was just like her.”

“You aren’t anything like her. You’re not only incredibly beautiful, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re open-minded and you’re a free spirit. There are so many things about you that amaze me. Things you don’t give yourself enough credit for.”

It was only after JJ saw the grateful expression on Kendal’s face that she realized what she’d said.

“You think I’m smart?” Kendal asked, just to be sure.

“I think you’re smarter than you realize,” JJ told her. “Emily Dickinson would be impressed.”

“Speaking of Dickinson, you owe me a poem,” Kendal said adamantly.

“How do you figure that?”

“I told you a secret.”

“Which was—”

“Which was about how I feel like I haven’t changed at all. I’ve never told anyone that before, so that makes it a secret.”

JJ wasn’t about to argue. She fished out her journal from her backpack and slid it across the table to Kendal, who flipped it open with the bright-eyed anticipation of a kid on Christmas morning.

“What’s Mother May I about?” Kendal asked, after skimming through the pages.

JJ rolled her eyes. Of all the poems in her journal, Kendal had to choose that one.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” JJ paused, and then decided to just let everything spill out all at once. “That’s the poem that I submitted in writing class that my teacher wants me to read out loud because she likes it so much, only I don’t want to read it because of my stage fright issue, and if I don’t read it, then she’s going to lower my grade.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if I helped you?” Kendal asked.

“How?”

“You can practice with me. You can read your poem out loud in front of me.”

“I have to do this by Monday. It’s Friday night. How am I going to get over a lifetime of stage fright in only two days?”

“We’ll start now,” Kendal motioned to the journal and handed it back to JJ.

“Not here!” JJ panicked, looking around. The coffee shop was packed with people getting ready to participate in the poetry slam.

“Then let’s go someplace else.”

“Don’t you want to stay and watch the poetry slam?”

“I’d rather help you instead,” said Kendal. “You’ve really opened my eyes to poetry in such a way that I actually enjoy it. I feel like I owe you or something.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Still—I’d like to help you if I can. That is, if you’ll let me.”

JJ considered the offer. “Okay,” she agreed. “But where can we go? I don’t want to go to back to my dorm or yours. I need someplace private.”

“I know a place.” Kendal stood up and tugged JJ, almost taking her by the hand. “Come on. You showed me your favorite hangout. Now it’s time for me to show you mine.”

Just before they left the coffee shop, Kendal glanced at her cell phone. She was supposed to text Christine, then meet up with her at the soccer party. But here she was with JJ instead. Without saying a word, Kendal slid her cell phone back into her a purse. She smiled eagerly at JJ, “Come on. Let’s go.”

* * *

Christine was busy making out with Jason in the dark when Kyan walked right into the dorm room and flipped on the light.

“I thought you said she was coming tonight,” he said, sounding frustrated. “It’s after ten and she’s not here yet.”

Christine peeled herself away from Jason, who now glared at Kyan. “Seriously, dude?” he grumbled. “You’ve got issues.”

“I’ve got issues?” Kyan shot back. “No way. This girl is crazy. She ditched an invite-only soccer party.” He turned to Christine. “Who does that?”

The invite-only soccer party was considered the highlight of the fall semester, aside from winter formal. The soccer wing was lit up with white lights for extra ambiance. There were fresh cut roses in vases in every room, and all of the soccer guys got dressed up in their best attire. For Kyan that meant wearing black slacks, a dark-blue button-down shirt and a blue and white striped tie. Apparently, he had gotten all dressed up for nothing.

“I don’t know where she is,” said Christine, and she scrolled through her text messages on her iPhone. “She hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

“How late was that poetry thing supposed to go?” Kyan pressed.

“Why don’t you go find out,” Jason offered, impatiently. He was still sitting on the couch, waiting for Kyan to leave so he could get back to kissing his girlfriend.

“She should be here with me. That’s how this whole thing was supposed to turn out. I’m the best looking guy on campus. What gives?”

Christine held up her hands. “I don’t know. She’s been acting so strange lately. I swear… if she doesn’t come tonight, she’s going to regret it.”

“I’m going to regret it,” said Kyan. “I wasted thirty bucks on this tie!”

Jason had heard enough. He stood up. “She’s probably on her way here right now,” he said, as he nudged Kyan out of the room.

“Let me try and call her,” said Christine, as she held up her iPhone. But before she could hit the “send” button, Jason plucked it from her hands and tossed it on the bed. “Would you two relax? If she wants to come, she’ll come.” He raised an eyebrow at Kyan, who finally took the hint.

“I’ll go wait for her on the front steps,” Kyan said miserably, and closed the door behind him.

Jason turned the light off and resumed his position next to Christine on the couch. But she clearly was distracted, and stood up instantly to look out the window.

“If you don’t come tonight, Kendal, I’ll tell the whole school that you’re a lesbian,” she whispered under her breath.

“What did you say?” Jason asked.

“Never mind.”

CHAPTER 22

JJ and Kendal left the coffee shop, with Kendal leading the way across the school campus to the soccer field. They huddled together, appearing as one shadow instead of two in the dim street lighting that led their way.

Kendal crept under the bleachers, urging JJ to follow. And follow she did. They ducked their heads and crouched along to the opposite end of the bleachers where the scorers’ box was attached. Perched up high on a platform, the scorers’ box was supported by tall beams enclosed with a tarp tied around them on three sides, the side to the bleachers being left open. JJ and Kendal were able to sneak under the scorers’ box through the bleachers, and were completely hidden by the tarp. A worn wool blanket had been shoved in between the metal bars, keeping it off the grass so that it wouldn’t get wet. Kendal grabbed the blanket, unfolded and spread it out. In the middle of the blanket, she’d stuffed a flashlight. She turned it on, illuminating the spot.

“Come here often?” JJ asked, eyeing the flashlight.

“Until it gets too cold,” Kendal told her. “I found this spot during my freshman year, in the spring after I had made the cheerleading squad. Everyone on the team was pulling these wild and crazy pranks on the new girls. I was so scared every time I walked across campus.”

She sat down on the blanket and crossed her legs. JJ sat down beside her.

“Christine told me that they grabbed her coming out of the library late one night, took her to the soccer dorm and made her do all of their laundry. She said it was the most disgusting thing she ever had to do in her entire life. I didn’t want that happening to me.”

“So you hid here?”

“For practically the entire spring semester of school.” Kendal sighed, as if she were reminiscing about a childhood tree house. “I’d come here right after eating at the dining hall, and after classes to read or do homework. I even slept out here once or twice.”

“Really? I never imagined you as the type of girl who could rough it.”

“I’m full of surprises. See, the rule was that they couldn’t grab us in public places with teachers and adults around. That included the library, dining hall, and classroom buildings. They couldn’t keep us from going to class either. But as soon as we were finished with classes for the day and walked outside, we were fair game. So, they’d watch us go into some place, wait until we came out, and grab us. No one ever found me here.”

“That’s pretty clever,” said JJ.

“This hiding spot was so good, that it got to the point where they’d all eat with me in the dining hall so that they could grab me as soon as I walked outside. But that never worked either. I’d just sit in the dining hall until they left or I’d exit out the side door. I had all my routes mapped carefully.”

“I can’t believe you went through all that just to be a part of the cheerleading squad.”

Kendal waved her hand nonchalantly in the air. “It was fun at the time,” she said.

“Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

“Oh, come on,” Kendal argued. “You’re telling me that you weren’t hazed as a freshman on the basketball team?”

JJ pondered the question, even though she already knew the answer. Yes, she’d gone through hazing. Especially the time she was forced to carry a ball everywhere she went across campus, and if any of the older players saw her without the ball then she was forced to do sprints, push-ups and sit-ups on the spot.

“Okay, you got me there,” JJ admitted. “But at least it wasn’t so bad that I had to find a hiding spot.”

Kendal glowered at her, and then laughed because she wasn’t able to keep a straight face.

“You aren’t at all what I thought you were,” said JJ.

“You keep saying that. I’m hoping it’s a good thing.”

“Trust me. It is.”

Kendal played with her fingers, a nervous habit over which she’d little control. “Are we going to talk about your poem, or what?”

JJ blinked twice, as if she suddenly remembered the reason why they were there in the first place. She took out her journal and marked the page that contained the poem. “How am I supposed to do this again?”

“Stand up over there,” Kendal ordered. “And read it to me as if you were in class.”

JJ reluctantly stood up and walked about five feet away. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth wide and said, “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t—I can’t read it.”

“Why not? You read a couple of lines from Emily Dickinson out loud when we first met.”

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“Why?”

JJ’s shoulders slumped forward, “Because I was trying to make a point. I wouldn’t have done that if anyone else had been around. And that was Dickinson’s poem. It’s twice as hard reading my own stuff.”

“What is holding you back?”

“I don’t know—the fear of rejection from the crowd?” JJ knew she sounded like a bratty five-year-old at that moment, but she didn’t care. “I feel stupid. Can’t we just talk instead?”

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know—maybe if I talk for a little bit, I’ll feel comfortable enough to read this.” JJ pointed to the poem as she spoke. “I just feel incredibly nervous for some reason.”

“We can do whatever makes you feel most comfortable.”

“Good.” JJ gladly rejoined Kendal on the blanket, relieved to be out of the spotlight.

“Let’s talk about the poem,” Kendal said.

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, what are you so nervous about? Your writing is good. Are you afraid to share it because it’s personal?”

“That’s a ridiculous question.”

“How come?”

“Because there’s no getting around that. Poetry is personal. It has to be, because you’re putting your emotions out there whenever you write a poem.”

“So how does revealing something personal make you feel?”

“What are you, my therapist?” JJ snorted.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help here,” Kendal replied. “It’s obvious you have some insecurity about sharing something personal about yourself.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I’m being honest. That’s not the problem. It’s not about revealing something personal about myself. I’m honest and upfront about myself. You know that.”

“Then what is it? Insecurity about your writing?”

“Bingo,” JJ said, and fell over on her back. “I’m more afraid of what people are going to think than anything else.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Kendal maintained. “Your writing is amazing. And it can’t be any more difficult than coming out to people. Even though you maybe had a fear of rejection, you still did it. Look how comfortable you are with yourself now.”

“Wow,” said JJ as if a light bulb had just lit up in her head. “I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s the same principal. Some people may not respond in the best way, but it sounds like most people in your life have been supportive. It’s the same with your writing. Some people may not like it, but I bet most people will.”

“Argh!” JJ hid her face with her hands, and spoke through her fingers. “I’m never going to be able to do this by Monday!”

“Yes, you will,” Kendal reassured her. She reached for JJ’s hands and tugged them from her face. “I believe in you.”

When JJ looked up, she saw Kendal’s generous green eyes peering down at her.

It was the simplest of phrases, and yet it carried so much weight. JJ had never heard anybody, not her coach, or even her parents, say those words to her before. It confused her to the core. How could someone who hardly knew her believe in her so deeply? It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. It was trust without reason and it didn’t make any sense.

“Why?” JJ asked. “Why do you believe in me? You don’t even know me that well.”

It was the first time Kendal had seen JJ without her confident grin, without her carefree attitude or charismatic charm. JJ was vulnerable, exposed. And it only made Kendal fall for her even more.

“Why do you believe in me so easily?” JJ repeated.

“Because I like what I’ve learned about you so far.” Kendal laid her hand over JJ’s . “And you make it hard not to.”

CHAPTER 23

Saturday flew by in a blur, as Kendal kept replaying her night under the scorers’ box with JJ over and over again. They’d sat there and talked until close to one in the morning when Kendal’s cell phone rang, startling them both. Kendal only answered it because she knew it was Christine, wondering where in the world she was. The call somehow catapulted them both back to reality.

“I’ve got to get back to the dorm,” Kendal had said, with regret. She dreaded seeing Christine and the conversation she knew would ensue. How would she ever be able to explain why she’d ditched the soccer party to hang out with JJ?

They awkwardly parted ways, neither wanting to leave or knowing how to end the evening. JJ had offered Kendal a genuine and heartfelt smile. Kendal took it, and gave JJ one in return. That was it. That was how the night had ended.

In her imagination Kendal had dared to picture a different ending. In her version JJ had asked her to stay a few minutes longer. They nestled gently against each other on the blanket as Kendal stared longingly into JJ’s baby blue eyes, eyes that made Kendal weak in the knees if she stared at them long enough. Kendal’s heart had been racing and she didn’t know whether she wanted to run, scream or wrap herself around JJ like a snake. The kiss that followed was unlike anything she’d ever experienced—the softness of JJ’s lips, the gentleness of her touch. She’d even dreamt about it the following night. When she realized that it wasn’t real, and only her imagination, Kendal found herself pouting.

Pouting? She was actually pouting?

It seemed so absurd, yet Kendal didn’t know how to explain it. She needed a word, a definition to describe the feeling, to give it a name so that she could understand it better, or maybe so she could understand why JJ was making her feel this way.

That thought alone frightened her deeply. She felt as if she were losing whatever part of herself she thought she had control of. And it stuck with her every minute of every hour. Nothing she did or said could distract her from her thoughts. Saturday might as well have been a pause, a brief interlude until she and JJ would meet again.

“I’m waiting,” Christine sang, tapping her fingernails loudly against a locker. She and Kendal were in the girls’ locker room at the athletic center, getting ready to walk a few laps around the track. Kendal had to beg Christine all morning to talk to her, to let her explain. Christine’s only response was, “I need to work out. You can come if you want to.”

Working out was not something Kendal enjoyed and never did on a regular basis. In fact, this was only the second time she’d ever been in the athletic center since her freshman year. The first time was during the tour of the campus when she’d visited, before transferring to Sampson.

“Well—” Christine said, still tapping.

Kendal found the tapping distracting, irritating, and yet oddly comforting. Once she finished tying her sneakers, she stood up and stretched.

“Let’s wait until we get to the track,” she said.

“Fine,” Christine spat. She burst from the locker room, with Kendal jogging behind her to keep up. It had been the same when they’d walked from the dorm to the athletic center. Christine had made sure to walk a step and a half in front of Kendal so that she didn’t have to talk to her, and probably to make her suffer.

“Okay—I know—you’re mad,” Kendal huffed, already out of breath as they made their way around the track.

“Mad?” Christine practically shouted. “I am way beyond mad!”

They walked briskly, and Kendal couldn’t concentrate on what she was saying because she was so focused on keeping up with Christine.

“Can you—slow down— please?” Kendal begged.

Christine reluctantly obliged. When their pace slowed, Kendal organized her thoughts.

“I’m really sorry,” she said as genuinely as possible. “I just lost track of time.”

“That’s it?” Christine asked in amazement. “That’s your big explanation?”

“It’s the honest truth.” Kendal inhaled a few quick breaths. “We were talking at the coffee shop, and then JJ had this problem she needed help with, and since she’d helped me with my Women’s Literature class, I wanted to help her out. I didn’t want to just leave her hanging.”

“Leave her hanging?” Christine stopped walking. “You didn’t want to leave her hanging? Right. So it was perfectly all right to leave me hanging instead. Me! Your roommate? Your best friend since freshman year? Or did you forget that as easily as you lost track of time?”

Kendal didn’t know what to say, except, “You’re blowing this out of proportion.” By the look on Christine’s face, it was obviously the wrong thing to say.

“Kendal, you pinky swore with me!” Christine screamed. “You can’t go back on a pinky swear!”

It was as if Kendal had signed a contract without reading the fine print. “What are we, in first grade?” she asked, bored and impatient with way the conversation was heading.

At that moment she noticed the women’s basketball team taking the court below. The raised track was built on the second level of the athletic center, offering a full view of the courts below. She spotted JJ, noted where she was, and then somehow shifted her eyes back to Christine’s frustrated face. “I just don’t see what the big deal is.”

Christine smacked her lips together and appeared to swallow a scream. Her face contorted, and Kendal wondered if she were experiencing some severe gastric pain, or if she was just really upset by what Kendal had said. Either way, Kendal felt amused.

“You are infuriating!” Christine shouted. “You have no idea what this means, do you?”

“What are you talking about?” Kendal asked. “What does this mean?”

“You stood up a member of the squad, Kendal. You went back on a sacred oath.”

“Sacred oath?”

“The pinky swear!” Christine shouted again.

Two other girls walking the track had passed by at that moment. They turned to each other and giggled.

Christine cast icy eyes at them, and continued with her rant. “I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but your priorities are all messed up.” She folded her arms evenly across her chest. “Do you really think I’m the only one who’s noticed?” Her voice sounded smug.

Kendal flung her hands to her hips, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Everyone knows who you’ve been hanging out with lately. That’s what it means. People are starting to wonder about you, and they’re starting to talk.”

“Talk about what?”

“You know.”

“No, I don’t know.”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? When you start hanging around a girl who’s gay, it’s assumed that you are hanging around her for a reason.”

“They think I’m gay?”

Christine shrugged. “What do you expect?”

“But I’m not gay!”

“Some people on the squad don’t think you care about your reputation anymore. They think you’ve lost your devotion and interest in the squad.” She leaned in and whispered, “And you know what that means.”

The color instantly drained from Kendal’s face. She knew she hadn’t exactly been singing the praises of the cheerleading squad lately, nor bearing the school colors. Yes, she had her frustrations, and yes, she had her complaints, but that didn’t mean she wanted out. That didn’t mean she didn’t want to be a part of it anymore.

“That’s crazy!” Kendal screamed, a little too loudly. She saw a few of the basketball players look up in her direction, and wondered if JJ had been one of them.

“It’s the truth,” Christine told her. “They are having a meeting. It was supposed to be a secret. They didn’t want you to know. But I wanted to tell you because I thought you should know. Unless you wake up and snap out of this phase you’re in, you might as well kiss the squad goodbye.” She narrowed her eyes and pointed her sharp chin and added, “You know how these things go down.”

Kendal knew exactly how these things went down. She’d seen how these things had gone down. Last year, she was in on one of the secret meetings about a sophomore who spent more time hanging out with her skater friends on campus than she did attending practice or other cheerleading-related activities. She’d seemed like such a promising prospect during her freshman year, by way of her 3.6 GPA, her involvement in the drama club, and her participation in student government activities. But, as it sometimes happens, she soon went astray and started hanging out with what the squad thought was the wrong crowd.

Suddenly, the rest of the squad didn’t see her as being so promising and wholesome anymore. She was dismissed, cast aside, and her membership in the most popular organization on campus ultimately revoked by a single, unsurprising, unanimous vote.

The fact of the matter was that the cheerleading squad had a reputation to uphold. They went after only the most involved, the most athletic, popular, prettiest, and smartest students on campus. Unless you carried at least a 3.0 GPA and were part of some organization, be it academic or otherwise, you had no shot at making the squad, no matter how good you were.

Kendal had been lucky. She’d been the exception to the rule. Her popularity outshined her GPA and lack of involvement in campus activities. She had zero athletic ability. But she could fake a good split and leg lift any day. Aside from being pretty and popular, Kendal didn’t have much on her résumé as far as school activities went.

Standing there in the athletic center, arguing with Christine over something so trivial, Kendal felt small and shallow. For the past couple of years she’d been doing to others exactly what she feared others would now do to her. She’d judged people, voted as to whether or not they were good enough to be on the cheerleading squad, and she’d been happy doing it. She’d been happy to belong to what she saw as a loving and supportive organization that appeared now to be nothing more than a superficial, stuck-up bunch of girls with meaningless friendships, and future networking possibilities that would serve them well only until the high school bubble burst.

It shouldn’t have mattered. Kendal shouldn’t have cared. But for some reason, one that she couldn’t put her finger on, it did matter. For some reason, she did care.

She felt her chest expand with panic. The squad was all she knew at Sampson. What would she be without it? Who would she be?

She’d have to make all new friends. She’d have to start over, as if she were a freshman. And the thought of that was too overwhelming to entertain.

“When’s the meeting?” Kendal asked.

“Tomorrow night, at the school lounge,” Christine said. Her eyes instantly softened. “I told them you’d be busy with tutoring, but if you skip that, then you can come.” She uncrossed her arms and reached for Kendal’s hands. “It’s only going to be a discussion, nothing final. Don’t even mention what I said. Just tell everyone you’ve been working hard studying, that you still care about the squad and your reputation, and that JJ is just your tutor and nothing more. I’ll vouch for you.”

“You’ll vouch for me?”

“On one condition.”

“Which is—”

“Which is that you stop hanging out with JJ.”

“What? She’s my tutor!”

“Get another one,” Christine said plainly, “or how do you expect me to vouch for you?” If you continue to hang around her no one is going to believe me, or you either for that matter.”

Kendal glanced toward the basketball team again. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw JJ sprinting from one side of the gym to the other. “Okay,” she said without looking away. “I’ll stop hanging out with JJ.”

CHAPTER 24

By Sunday evening, JJ still hadn’t been able to get through the entire poem. It was discouraging, to say the least, seeing as how she’d spent the greater part of the weekend practicing in her dorm room.

She hadn’t heard from Kendal at all on Saturday, and assumed she was busy smoothing things over with her roommate. In the meantime, JJ had mustered up enough courage to read a few lines of her poem to Queenie. But that wasn’t the same as reading it out loud to her class, because JJ wasn’t exposing herself. Queenie already knew everything there was to know about her. Not like a classroom of strangers. Queenie wouldn’t judge JJ, nor would she ever criticize her work.

When JJ had finished reading a few lines, Queenie said, “That’s awesome!” and went back to charging more clothes online at her parents’ expense. Every thing she’d written that JJ had ever shared with her, which wasn’t much at all, Queenie loved. JJ could probably scribble out the alphabet, and Queenie would love it.

JJ paced nervously across the floor of her dorm room, as Queenie looked on in amusement. Time was running out.

“What do you suppose they were arguing about?”

JJ stopped pacing, noting Queenie’s smirking face.

“Who are they and what are you referring to?”

“Those two cheerleaders. They were involved in quite the heated discussion, don’t you think?”

“So what? What’s your point?”

JJ had seen Kendal and her roommate arguing. How could she have missed them when Queenie had poked her hard in the side to get her attention? She hadn’t cared then, and she didn’t care now. There were other, more important, things on her mind. Like the fact that she had fewer than twenty-four hours until she had to read her poem in front of her entire class.

“My point is that it’s quite the coincidence that they were arguing so soon after your late night study session.” Queenie made sure to enclose her phrase, study session, in quotes with her fingers. “Don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t.”

JJ immediately regretted telling Queenie how she and Kendal had stayed up practically all night together talking under the scorers’ box at the soccer field.

“Rumors are starting to circulate,” Queenie said. “You know how this school is a hub for gossip.”

“Since when have I cared about rumors?”

“I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about THE Kendal McCarthy. Once she gets wind of the fact that people think she is batting for the other side now, she might not like it so much.” Queenie let out a long-winded whistle. “My guess is that her cheerleader friends aren’t going to like it much either.”

“I’m not playing this game with you right now,” JJ warned.

“It isn’t a game, JJ, that’s the point.” Queenie stood up, the playful smirk gone from her face. “This is reality. And it’s about time you came back from the wonderful world of make believe.”

JJ resisted the urge to argue, because in a way she knew Queenie was right. She’d been fooling herself for a few weeks now, convincing herself that she wasn’t enamored with Kendal, when she was all JJ could think about.

“All right, I’m in love with the girl,” she confessed. “Are you happy now?”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Queenie said. “I know you’re in love with her. I’ve known since the first night you tutored her.”

“How?”

“Because you’ve been walking around in this dizzy haze ever since.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that you actually believe she could be in love with you. It’s a fantasy, JJ, and it’s never going to happen. Once Kendal realizes she can’t play with the lesbians any longer because of what the rest of the school might think, once she realizes the weight of it, she’s going to stop talking to you.”

“She’s not like that,” JJ maintained.

“You think so? And you’ve known her how long?”

“Why are you doing this?” JJ asked, a lump forming in her throat. “Why are you saying these things?”

Queenie shook her head, “Because you never learn. You keep falling for girls you can’t have. I hate watching you go through this. I want you to get out this time before it’s too late.”

“I appreciate what you’re saying, really I do. But you’re wrong this time,” JJ said. “And you’re wrong about her.”

“Am I?” Queenie checked the clock on her iPhone. “You have a study date with her in an hour, right?”

“Right.”

“I bet you a hundred bucks she doesn’t show.”

“That’s absurd,” said JJ.

“Why? Because you know I’m right?”

“No, because neither of us has a hundred bucks and I won’t accept your parents’ credit card!”

“Fine. I’ll bet you a pizza instead.”

Now this was a bet JJ could afford. It was high time that she put Queenie in her place. Queenie was the kind of person who thought she was right about everything and everyone. It was time to show her that she could be wrong just as easily as everyone else.

JJ extended her hand.

Queenie shook it.

The deal was sealed.

* * *

When JJ returned to the dorm an hour and a half later, she was carrying a pizza in one hand and a six-pack of Pepsi in the other. She casually walked into the suite where Queenie was sprawled out on the couch watching television, wearing a pair of boxers, wool socks and a T-shirt that asked “Why are all the cool girls lesbians?”

Queenie acknowledged her presence simply by repositioning herself on the couch so that there was room for two. JJ set the pizza box on the coffee table without saying a word, and sat down. She handed the six-pack to Queenie, who released one can, popped the top, and passed it over before taking one for herself. JJ took a long sip from the can in her hand, letting the sweetness of the soda dance on her tongue before she swallowed.

“What are you watching?” she asked.

“Nothing much.” Queenie burped, and added, “Excuse me.”

They watched sitcom reruns for the rest of the night and nearly finished off the entire pizza. They exchanged a few tidbits of conversation, mostly whether the characters they were watching on television were attractive or not. And not once did Queenie say, “I told you so.”

CHAPTER 25

Kendal braced herself, and then knocked on Mya’s door. She had little in common with Mya Brooks, aside from the fact that they both were on the cheerleading squad. Their conversations were few and far between, and basically centered on schoolwork and cheerleading. Mya was the captain of the cheerleading squad. She cared about the squad wholeheartedly, and about little else. It was all she ever talked about. It was her life.

Mya was sweet and understanding, though, which made her easy to talk to. She was compassionate and charitable, a true humanitarian. But as sweet as she was, she knew how to play the game when it mattered. It wasn’t in anyone’s best interest to get in her way whenever cheerleading was concerned. And if anyone ever told her that cheerleading wasn’t a sport, watch out!

“Come in,” Kendal heard from beyond the peephole. She opened the door and saw Mya sitting comfortably in a beanbag chair, an open textbook in her lap.

“Kendal,” Mya said, surprised. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Kendal entered slowly and checked every corner of the room to make sure Mya was alone. She motioned to the bed, asking for permission to sit down.

“Sure, have a seat,” Mya said warmly. “I’m sure you heard about our little meeting last night. I had a hunch Christine would let you in on it since she isn’t the best at keeping secrets.”

“She did,” Kendal replied evenly. “I was actually going to come to address some things myself, but I didn’t want to make a scene at the meeting.”

“Why would you have made a scene?”

“Well, wouldn’t you make a scene if you were about to get kicked off the cheerleading squad?”

Mya burst out laughing. “Kendal, who said we were kicking you off the squad?”

“Christine did. She said you were having a secret meeting about me because everyone had noticed how I’ve been acting lately. You know, avoiding soccer parties and such, and hanging out with certain people. I thought . . .”

“It was a secret meeting of sorts, but in no way were we planning on kicking you off the squad. As far as your behavior, we have noticed. But only because of how hard you’ve been working to get your grades up lately. We know how upset you’ve been about not being able to socialize as much, and we wanted to throw you a party. The secrecy of the meeting had to do with the planning of the party.”

“That’s it?” Kendal cursed Christine under her breath. She might not have blatantly lied to her about the so-called secret meeting, but she’d certainly implied that Kendal was about to be kicked off the squad.

“We discussed ideas for the winter formal too, but that’s basically about it.”

“I don’t believe this,” Kendal stood up. “Christine had me thinking that you were going to kick me out for being gay.”

Mya’s book dropped from her lap.

“Not that I am, in any way, shape or form,” Kendal hurried to explain. “I mean, not that I know of, at this point in my life, or think I might want to . . . if I met someone, a woman, I guess, the thought has crossed my mind, because of JJ, but if . . .”

“Kendal, are you trying to tell me that you are a lesbian?”

“What? No!” Kendal said quickly. She pulled at her fingers and avoided Mya’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

“What’s going on?”

Kendal walked across the room, unable to keep her feelings bottled up any longer. “Ever since I met her, I’ve been all over the place.”

“Met who?”

“JJ. I’ve never met anyone like her before. And I know she’s a girl. So I ask myself how another girl can make me feel this way. And I try to stop the feelings, but the truth is that I don’t want them to stop. So when Christine said that if I wanted to continue to be on the squad and keep my friends, then I had to stop spending time with JJ, I didn’t know what to do. Then I realized I knew exactly what to do, because why would I want to be part of a team that dictated who I could spend my time with, or cared more about a reputation than it did about me?”

“So you came here to quit the squad?” Mya asked. “Because of what Christine had led you to believe?”

“Yes,” Kendal nodded. “I need to figure out my feelings for JJ, and I won’t let anybody else do that for me or judge me in any way.”

Mya stood up, took Kendal’s hand and guided her over to the bed. They sat down, side by side. “Did you know that I have an older brother?”

“Yes,” Kendal replied, recalling meeting Mya’s brother at the homecoming parade last year.

“Did you know he’s gay?”

“He is?” Kendal remembered a tall, handsome and muscular fellow who went to college in Boston. He had seemed more like a ladies’ man than a man’s man.

“Yes. And he’s even in a fraternity.”

“A gay one?”

Mya laughed, “No, silly, it’s not a gay fraternity. It’s a regular fraternity. It has straight members, too. And black members. And white members. The point is that it doesn’t matter what you are. Why should it?”

“I don’t know, Christine seems to think —”

“It seems that Christine has some personal issues to work out on her own. I’m thinking I should develop a course on tolerance for the whole squad, make it mandatory.” She smiled, “What do you think?”

“I think that’s a great idea.”

Kendal was glad she’d decided not to go to the meeting after all. That would have been awkward, especially if she’d burst into the room accusing everybody of plotting against her. But she regretted the fact that she’d decided not to meet JJ in the library for their tutoring session. She hadn’t even sent her a simple text to say she couldn’t make it.

After Christine had given her the ultimatum, Kendal initially agreed not to see JJ. But as Saturday turned into Sunday, and Sunday turned into Sunday evening, her stomach soured with the thought of what Christine had actually asked her to do. It soured more with the thought of what she’d agreed to do.

The spot under the scorers’ box served its purpose for a couple of hours. Then Kendal became afraid that JJ would come looking for her after she’d skipped their tutoring session. She ended up going for a walk out on the edge of town where she was sure no one would find her. Everything in her life had suddenly been turned upside down. It was either Emily Dickinson’s fault or JJ’s. Kendal couldn’t decide which one.

Somewhere along the road Kendal found a beautiful weeping willow with a thick trunk, a perfect spot for organizing her thoughts. She sat down, leaned up against the bark, stretched her legs out on the tall blades of grass and withdrew her volume of Emily Dickinson. Kendal didn’t know why she’d brought the body of work with her, the volume of poetry that once plagued her and gave her nightmares. For some reason she felt it might give her comfort, and maybe help her make sense out of everything she’d been feeling.

She flipped opened the book, closed her eyes, and rested her finger on a single line. When she opened her eyes, she saw the words of the poem before her. Her finger had landed on that page by chance, yet for some reason Kendal felt that it was supposed to land on that poem. She knew that poem. It meant something. And it made everything that she’d been feeling make sense.

She remembered that poem now, as she sat beside Mya.

“Is everything okay?” Mya asked.

Kendal thought about the poem, the words that were branded in her brain, and had been since the first time she’d studied it.

“Yes. Everything is more than okay,” she said. “In fact, everything is perfect.”

“Good.” Mya gave Kendal a slight hug and added, “If you ever need to talk more about this, just let me know.”

“I might take you up on that.” Kendal headed for the door, feeling more relieved than she could have hoped. She paused in the threshold, turned and said, “I underestimated you.”

“And I underestimated Christine,” said Mya. “Don’t worry. I plan on having a little talk with her.”

Although Kendal longed to have a little talk with Christine herself, the slight hint of wickedness in Mya’s voice was enough to satisfy Kendal’s appetite for revenge.

* * *

Kyan was lying facedown on his bed with a pillow over his head. He had a pounding headache and a severely bruised ego. What girl in her right mind would have the nerve to stand him up? It didn’t make any sense. Getting a girl had never been this hard. But with Kendal McCarthy it seemed almost impossible.

She hadn’t shown any interest in him that night at the soccer party when the two of them were left alone in a room. And she couldn’t have cared less when he tracked her down in the library to invite her to only one of the best and most exclusive parties of the year. And when he finally thought he had made a dent, the day she’d come to his room to accept the invite, she’d stood him up anyway.

He had acted like such a fool, playing the sweet and sensitive guy. Apparently, that whole approach had been pointless. But he had thought that that was the kind of guy Kendal would respond to. Maybe she was one of those girls who always fell for the jerk? The guy who never called back, acted like she didn’t exist? Whoever said that nice guys finish last must have known what he was talking about.

The end of the soccer season, as well as fall semester, for that matter, was just around the corner, and with it came Sampson Academy’s famous winter formal. To Kyan, it was his last chance to put an exclamation point on a perfect high school career. The soccer team was always paired with the cheerleading squad for winter formal. It was Sampson Academy’s version of a prom, only larger and more upscale. Everyone at the formal voted for the perfect couple, which meant that the chosen pair, who would be anointed King and Queen, attained a status far higher than everyone else. Kyan was determined to be one of the chosen. In his mind—in his perfect plan—he would be the king and Kendal would be his queen.

But in order to achieve that goal, he needed a new game plan. The one he had hatched originally was not working.

At first he had thought that Christine was his best way in since she had told Kyan many things about Kendal, things that she’d thought Kendal would respond to. And they hadn’t worked. It had appeared that Christine thought she knew Kendal better than she actually did.

There was one other person, though, one other girl that Kyan had seen Kendal hanging around with over the past month, Kendal’s tutor, the girl on the basketball team. If he could somehow convince her to plant a seed in Kendal’s mind about him, get her to do a little pushing and prodding on his behalf, Kendal just might bend. She just might let him in.

It appeared to be a feasible plan of action. Girls always listened to their closest friends when it came to dating guys. What better way to get to Kendal than to go through a close friend?

CHAPTER 26

JJ sat on a wooden bench in front of the grand fountain, the symbolic centerpiece of the quad. But since the weather had recently turned colder, the fountain had been shut off.

By itself, without water, the cement structure was depressing, lifeless. It had no purpose. It just stood there, taking up space, while students wandered by and paid it no attention. JJ wondered if the fountain missed the water during the bitter cold winter months. Even its soft blue color had faded, which left it looking gray. The water was the fountain’s life source and without it, the fountain couldn’t go on living. Well, at least for the rest of the winter. Then, every spring, when winter thawed, the school staged a big party on the quad the day the fountain water was turned back on. And the fountain sprang enthusiastically back to life.

JJ sat there, wondering why she’d just wasted a decent amount of her brain cells crafting a metaphor on the circle of life and a waterless fountain when she could be doing something much more productive with her time. But this is what usually happened when the Dibble Syndrome hit. It sucked the life right out of her. It made no sense, rhyme nor reason. It left her in a complete and utter daze.

Nothing mattered to her, not basketball, not even her writing. She hadn’t written anything for at least a week, in fact. Ever since Kendal hadn’t shown up for their tutoring session, she’d been moping around as if it were the end of the world. It didn’t help that she saw Kendal practically everywhere she went. Attending a small private school made it far too easy to bump into the same people on a regular basis—whether you wanted to or not. But Kendal never even looked in her direction. JJ figured she felt bad about what happened and would rather forget all about it, Emily Dickinson and those “wild nights” included.

What made it all worse, though, was the fact that Queenie had been right about Kendal all along.

JJ shook her head in disappointment. Maybe she needed to be more like Queenie. Maybe she needed to not care, to not let herself get attached. But JJ knew that was impossible. She did care. And her emotions ran so deep there was no way she could be with someone without getting attached. Keeping people at arm’s length was a skill that Queenie had mastered, for whatever reason. JJ had never asked her why. She assumed Queenie had gotten burned somewhere along the way, possibly by a former girlfriend. Or maybe she was just cynical because it was part of her personality. Either way, it was quite obvious that she was bitter when it came to relationships.

But as many times as JJ got her heart stepped on, she refused to be like Queenie. She was a hopeless romantic; so what? It was better than being a cynic.

“Whenever something like this happens, you go off to find yourself.” The voice rose from behind.

JJ turned around to see Queenie standing there, hands in her pockets, a wide grin on her face.

“It’s pathetic, isn’t it?” JJ asked, turning back to face the fountain. She wondered what Queenie would think about her little fountain metaphor.

“No, it’s not pathetic,” Queenie returned. She walked over and sat down on the bench. “It’s just the way you deal with things. And it’s probably a lot healthier than the way I deal with things.”

“You mean by ignoring the feelings?”

“Exactly.”

“Sometimes I think that’s just what I need to do.”

“Say no more, my friend!” Queenie slapped JJ on the knee and stood up. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“I called a few people. We’re going to go dancing downtown.”

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

JJ frowned. She wasn’t sure she was up for one of Queenie’s crazy adventures.

“What? You’ve got something better to do?” Queenie asked in a tone that told JJ she shouldn’t attempt to argue. It was clear that Queenie had every intention of dragging her downtown whether she wanted to go or not.

“No, I guess not.”

“And no tutoring?”

“No tutoring.”

“And you got that extension for your writing class, right? You don’t have to read that poem anytime soon?”

JJ nodded. She had gotten an extension. It had been her last hope because she hadn’t even been close to being prepared last Monday morning when she was supposed to read her poem out loud. And in a state of panic, she’d asked to speak to Mrs. Clark out in the hall. She desperately tried to explain her stage fright and that she was doing her best to overcome it. Somehow it had worked because Mrs. Clark took pity on her and granted JJ an extension.

At the end of the semester, during exams, the writing class held an open reading at The Spot. Every person in the class had to select the best piece from their own body of work that they had accumulated over the semester. They were to read their pieces aloud in front of the entire class and whoever else was in the audience. Each student would be graded on both the writing and their stage delivery.

Mrs. Clark’s one stipulation had been that JJ read the poem that she had already selected.

JJ had agreed on the spot. She didn’t have a choice. But it really didn’t matter which poem she read, just as long as she didn’t have to read it out loud anytime soon. She figured that she’d be able to conquer her stage fright by the time the end of the semester came around. At least, she hoped she would be able to.

“So it’s settled then,” said Queenie. “We’re going out.” She yanked JJ off the bench. “We’ve got to do something about your outfit, though. There’s no way I’m going to a club with you looking like that.”

JJ regarded her clothes. She was wearing her basketball jersey pants, a dark-blue hooded sweatshirt and flip-flops with white socks.

“I swear,” Queenie shook her head. “Sometimes you just scream ‘I need a makeover’.”

* * *

With Queenie’s help, JJ emerged from her dorm room looking quite hip in faded jeans, a form-fitting vintage long-sleeved T-shirt, and her favorite pair of Adidas sneakers. She even had taken time to do her hair. Before they left the dorm, Queenie sprayed JJ with her own cologne because she swore up and down that it made the ladies wild.

They squeezed into Queenie’s BMW with a few other members of the basketball team, and proceeded to pick up three more people along the way into downtown Richmond. By the time they arrived at the club, JJ couldn’t wait to exit the sardine can that Queenie’s luxury car had become. Her ears were ringing from the stereo, since the bass had been turned up so loud.

Queenie happily pulled into valet parking. She was also in with the bouncer, who called her by name once he saw her. They exchanged a half hug and a heartfelt slap on each other’s backs. He watched JJ suspiciously.

“It’s fine,” Queenie told him. “She’s with me.”

They walked as a group through the doors of the club under the bouncer’s watchful eye, and took the stairs to the second level where the entrance was.

“Sometimes when I’m out with you, I feel like I’m with someone famous,” JJ said.

“You are,” Queenie teased. “I’m the most popular lesbian in all of Virginia. Didn’t I tell you?”

JJ laughed, though at that moment she wondered if maybe she should have just stayed home. But then Queenie wrapped her arm around her and yelled, “It’s going to be a great night!” and JJ’s doubt disappeared in an instant.

They reached the second floor landing, walked down a narrow corridor and out into an open space that was packed wall to wall with every type of lesbian you could possibly imagine. The music was deafening, and you could almost see the walls shaking.

“Let’s go dance,” Queenie yelled, and pointed in the direction of the dance floor. JJ nodded and followed the group through the crowd. She gently pushed her way through the sea of people and happily emerged at the spot where Queenie was standing. Queenie began dancing at once to the techno music that blared through the speakers while JJ tried desperately to find her rhythm, which was quite hard to do, since she had none.

“You look ridiculous,” she told Queenie in order to draw attention away from herself.

“Me? At least I move to the beat.”

JJ frowned. She stopped dancing and moved through the crowd toward the wall where she’d do some people-watching instead.

Queenie motioned for her to come and join in more than a few times, but JJ just nodded or waved in her direction. By the time Queenie found a suitable dancing partner who proceeded to put her spaghetti arms all over her, she’d forgotten that JJ was even there.

An hour later, JJ was still leaning against the wall. A girl who looked about her age made her way over and struck up a conversation. She offered to buy JJ a soda, but all JJ could think about was the fact that the girl standing next to her wasn’t Kendal. Sure, she was cute enough. Her smile was the one bright spot in the entire evening. But she wasn’t captivating by any means, and as soon as their conversation fizzled out the girl moved on to someone else.

At that point, JJ was ready to leave the club. She scanned the crowd for Queenie again, and spotted her off in the corner kissing the same girl who had been all over her on the dance floor. JJ once again made her way through the crowd.

“Queenie!” JJ shouted, though she was standing right in front of her. “I’m leaving!”

Queenie lifted her head and glanced around as if she’d forgotten where she was. “Why?” she asked, assuming JJ had been having the time of her life.

“Because I’m ready to go!”

Queenie stepped away from her make-out partner in crime, and pushed JJ to the side. “I’m not ready to go yet. I’m kind of in the middle of something.” She raised an eyebrow and motioned behind her where the girl was patiently waiting.

JJ glared at her. “Do whatever you want,” she sputtered.

Before Queenie could stop her, JJ took off through the crowd. She stomped down a narrow corridor, and pushed through the first exit door she saw. But when she stepped out onto the fire escape, she knew instantly that she’d made a wrong turn.

JJ panicked and turned quickly to open the exit door but it was too late. It had locked firmly behind her and she was now stuck on the fire escape.

CHAPTER 27

“The fire escape?” Queenie stared in amazement. “You got stuck on the fire escape? At the club?”

They both were still dressed in their pajamas, eating Queenie’s Chinese food order that had just been delivered. It was almost 3 p.m., and JJ still felt exhausted from their late night out.

“And you had your cell phone on you the entire time?” Queenie asked between mouthfuls of Kung Pao chicken.

JJ nodded. The night had been a complete and utter failure. After she finally got down from the fire escape, she’d taken a cab back to school. Queenie still wasn’t home, so JJ crawled into bed. She heard Queenie come in an hour later. The two of them slept until after noon, when Queenie had finally rolled over and asked, “What in the world happened to you last night?”

“Yes, and I’ll repeat it again for those of you who are hard of hearing. I got stuck on the fire escape at the club.”

“So how were you able to get down?” Queenie asked.

“I figured out how to release the latch on the stairs, only they didn’t fall all the way to the ground. I walked across them anyway, and they fell from underneath me. I managed to land on my feet somehow, and then I realized I was in the middle of a broken down lot with fire barrels, broken beer bottles, and random individuals lurking about. I sprinted down the first alley I spotted and jumped into the back of a cab, which cost me twenty-five bucks, by the way.”

JJ had wanted Queenie to feel remorseful for what happened. But when JJ told her story, Queenie showed no remorse—only laughter and sarcasm. And, really, who could blame Queenie? Getting stuck on a fire escape at a club was not an average occurrence. And in hindsight, it was considerably amusing. JJ had even laughed at herself when she described how she’d finally gotten down.

“At least you have a really good story to tell because of it,” Queenie said. “I mean, seriously, that’s the kind of story you break out at boring parties and other humdrum social functions.”

“It wouldn’t be as funny if I had fallen or been robbed at gunpoint,” JJ replied as she nibbled on some white rice. “I should have never gone out.”

“But, if you hadn’t gone out, you wouldn’t have had any fun sitting here pouting, and you wouldn’t have gotten stuck on the fire escape, either. That means you wouldn’t have lived to tell what I now consider to be the greatest story ever told.” Queenie pointed at JJ with her fork before she pierced a piece of chicken and gobbled it up.

“Funny.” JJ sipped her soda. “So, now you know what happened to me last night. I still don’t know how the rest of your night was.”

“Trust me. My story isn’t half as good as yours.”

“Do tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“What happened with you and that girl at the club?”

“Not much,” Queenie shrugged, and fished around in her carton for any remaining bits of chicken before tossing it aside on the table. Then she turned on the television as if she’d grown bored with the conversation.

“From my perspective, it looked like more than ‘not much was going on,’” JJ pressed.

“We hung out for a bit more and that’s it,” Queenie repeated, eyes fixed on the television.

“I tell you what you deem to be the greatest story ever told, and you can’t even offer me a few simple words about a girl you met at a club?”

“We were having fun, and then I lost interest.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after the club closed we went our separate ways, and I felt—used.”

JJ shook her head from side to side, “Wait a minute. You felt used? You? Queenie McBride?”

Queenie turned off the television, and threw the remote control at the recliner in the corner of the room.

“Do you have to make me sound like that big of a jerk?” she snapped.

JJ paused. “Okay. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing, I’m just—maybe I’m thinking too much.”

“Queenie, seriously. What’s going on?” JJ set the can of soda aside and sat up in her chair. “Something is obviously bothering you. It’s me, you can talk to me.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Queenie said finally. “I just felt sort of hollow when I woke up this morning, like I suddenly grew a conscience.” She pretended to pick off something repulsive from her forehead and flicked it to the ground. “How do I get rid of it?”

“Your conscience? I don’t think you can,” JJ told her. “You’re pretty much stuck with it.”

“It was so awkward when we left the club,” Queenie said, and stood up. She circled the room, focusing her eyes nowhere in particular. “We said this weird goodbye, and that’s it. But for some reason I felt like I should get to know the girl, you know? Like on a deeper level or something. So, I asked her for her number to see if she wanted to go out again sometime.” She stopped circling and glared at JJ. “And you know what she said to me? She said, ‘I’m not into that.’ So I said, ‘not into what?’ And she said, ‘relationships.’”

“And that bothered you because . . . ?”

“Are you kidding me?” Queenie exclaimed. “That’s my line! Where does she get off using my line?”

“Wait a second,” JJ scratched her head. “Are you mad about her stealing your line or the fact that you are the one who got played in this little scenario?”

“Neither. Both. I don’t know.” Queenie slumped down onto the recliner.

“Okay. Try this one on for size,” JJ began. “What if last night was basically a chance for you to see yourself through your own eyes, or through the eyes of some of the girls you hook up with and leave hanging? You felt how they feel after you cast them aside. You felt the need for something more, something a bit more real. You felt the need to open yourself up to someone else. And it bothered you that you were actually the one who got burned.”

Queenie squinted and shifted in her seat, as if she were contemplating JJ’s words long and hard. Then she grimaced and retrieved the remote control from beneath her because it was pinching her butt and tossed it aside.

“Nope. I don’t think that’s it,” she said. “I think I just wondered—for a very, very, extremely brief moment—what it would be like to actually date someone. And thankfully, that girl’s response brought me back to reality.”

“That girl?” JJ cringed, and rubbed her temples. “You don’t even remember her name?”

“Shelia—Shannon. I don’t know. It was something that started with an ‘S’.”

“Are you listening to what you are saying?”

“What? She probably doesn’t remember my name either.”

“Wait a minute. Five seconds ago you had a conscience. You had a moment of guilt. A moment when the enormous brick wall that normally hides your emotions came tumbling down. What happened?”

“Eh. It passed.”

“It passed?”

“Yes. The moment passed.”

“Just like that?”

Queenie snapped her fingers, “Just like that.”

JJ threw her hands up in the air, “How in the world is that possible?”

“Simple. I realized who I was talking to.”

“And just who are you talking to?”

“I’m talking to someone who does the opposite of me. Someone who opens herself up to people. Someone who doesn’t have a so-called brick wall. So she ends up being someone who gets hurt on a regular basis.” Queenie weighed one hand against the other. “I figure, hey—it’s safer doing things my way. At least I’m not the one who gets hurt.”

Though she didn’t admit it, JJ knew that Queenie was right on some level. After all, she’d been right about Kendal.

CHAPTER 28

JJ’s stomach tossed and turned in directions she didn’t know were possible. She sat in the dining hall, forcing down bites of spaghetti with marinara sauce, between ample gulps of milk. Queenie sat across from her, comfortably stuffing her face as usual.

“How can you eat like that before a game?” JJ asked, as Queenie shoved a piece of bread slathered with butter into her eager mouth.

“I’m hungry,” Queenie said, as if being hungry gave her the right to devour any and every piece of food set in front of her. “I need energy for the game. And so do you.”

JJ set her fork down and rubbed her stomach. “I feel like I am going to throw up.”

“It’s just a game,” Queenie said as she proceeded to mop up the rest of the sauce on her plate with another piece of buttered bread. “It really isn’t that big of a deal.”

“I know.” JJ picked up her fork again, this time with determination. “I can’t help it. I get nervous.” She spun some pasta around the fork and opened wide.

“You get nervous about everything. Maybe some Prozac would help?”

“Prozac is an anti-depressant. And I’m not depressed. I just get a little anxious now and then.”

“A little?” Queenie mocked. “You get anxious when it’s raining outside and you can’t find an umbrella.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“Trust me. You are that bad.”

“Why don’t you ever get nervous?”

Queenie shrugged and ate more bread and butter.

“That’s just part of your character, I suppose,” JJ said enviously. “I wish I could be as carefree as you sometimes.”

“I wish I could write like you sometimes,” Queen returned. “Besides, what makes you think I’m so carefree?”

“Gee, I don’t know. How about the fact that you barely blink under what I would consider stressful situations.”

“Such as?”

“Such as—talking to girls, taking exams, playing in basketball games, graduating from high school, getting into a good college—pretty much life in general.”

“It’s all trivial, JJ. You put too much stock into things that don’t matter.”

“Exams don’t matter? Basketball doesn’t matter? College doesn’t matter?”

“Not in the big scheme of things. Life is too short to worry about the small stuff. You think I care if Coach chews me out for missing a shot that would have won us a game? There’s always going to be another game. There’s always going to be another girl to talk to. And in life there’s always going to be another exam or test of some sort, on paper or otherwise. Why break a sweat over each one?”

“Come on, Queenie,” said JJ. “There are things in life that are worth sweating over.”

“Maybe. But just hear me out.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“Take your stage fright, for instance. What is it that you really are afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of what people are going to think about my work.”

“That’s just an excuse and you know it,” said Queenie. She pointed a knowing finger about an inch away from JJ’s nose. “People are going to critique your work whether you read it out loud or not. You’re a writer, JJ. It’s part of the game you’re in.”

“Then what am I afraid of?” asked JJ.

“What you really are afraid of is success. Because once you get up on stage and read your stuff—just once—you’ll be able to do it again without thinking twice. You’ve just got to do it knowing that you are going to get up there again, knowing that there will be other opportunities to do so, knowing that the first time you get up there isn’t the end-all, be-all for you. Deep inside, you know you can do it. Deep inside, you know you want to do it.” Queenie pressed her finger to JJ’s nose as if she were pushing a button. “You just have to quit stalling, and do it!”

“You know,” JJ started her response, and then whacked Queenie’s finger away from her face, “Despite all the nonsense you have ever spouted before, this time you are actually making sense.”

Queenie smiled, folded her hands and began to twiddle her thumbs.

If JJ didn’t know any better, she would have assumed that Queenie was wise beyond her years. But she did know better. She also knew how easy it was to give sound advice to other people, rather than taking advice yourself. She gave Queenie a long look.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” Queenie continued to twiddle.

“Come on, Queenie. Isn’t there anything in this world that you’re afraid of?”

Queenie tipped her toes and leaned back, tilting the front legs of her chair up in the air, and stared up at the ceiling. JJ waited patiently for her to respond, and picked at her spaghetti even though she knew she was finished eating.

“Yes,” Queenie said at last.

“Yes?”

“Yes. There is one thing that I am afraid of.”

“And that would be?”

“Becoming my parents.”

JJ glared at her, “I was being serious.”

“So am I.”

“You’re way too hard on them.”

“Listen. You know my parents, but you don’t really know my parents. I don’t want to be anything like them.”

“That’s fine,” JJ said, sliding her plate aside. “But don’t push it to the limit by taking advantage of them at every turn, or belittling them every chance you get. You never let it rest. It’s almost as if you enjoy making life difficult for them to appease your own agenda when maybe, if you just talked to them, you might be able to find common ground you can share with them.”

“Trust me,” Queenie said as she settled her chair back into an upright position, “There’s no common ground.”

“I wonder sometimes—” JJ posed. “If you didn’t have your parents to torment on a regular basis, who would you be? You define yourself by defying them.”

Before Queenie had a chance to respond, a shadow fell over the table. Both JJ and Queenie looked up. Kyan Stevens loomed over them.

“Do you know him?” Queenie asked. She pointed her thumb awkwardly in his direction, like a hitchhiker lazily hailing a ride.

“Can I talk to you?” Kyan asked, keeping his eyes planted on JJ, ignoring Queenie altogether. “It’s important.”

“I’ll leave you two kids alone,” Queenie volunteered, and gave up her seat. She raised an eyebrow at JJ as if to say, “Who is this creep?”

Kyan sat down across from JJ, uninvited. He had the kind of look on his face that said he either was incredibly desperate or had just flunked a test. “I need you to do something for me,” he said.

“I’m sorry—what?” JJ returned.

“I said I need you to do something for me.”

“Um—why?”

“Because you seem like a nice person.”

JJ hated the fact that he was right. “True, but I’m still not following you.”

“You’re friends with Kendal McCarthy, right?”

“You could say that.” JJ’s eyes drifted over to the cheerleading table. It was empty.

“Come on. I used to see you two hanging around together all the time. I know you’re tight with her.” Kyan leaned in and whispered, “That’s why I want you to talk to her about me.”

“Talk to her about you?”

“Yes.”

“And why would I do that exactly?”

“Because I want to go out with her.”

JJ cocked her head to one side, and asked the obvious question that was dancing on her tongue. “Why don’t you just ask her yourself?”

“She’s kind of playing hard to get, if you know what I mean.” Kyan reached up and idly scratched his right bicep, which appeared as though it was about to burst out of his tightly-fitting sweater. “And I know how girls always listen to their friends when it comes to dating guys. I just need you to say a few nice things about me.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re her friend.”

“But I hardly know you.”

“What’s to know? I’m the captain of the soccer team, I’m going to go to law school, I’m popular, and,” he smiled devilishly, “it’s been said that I’m one of the best looking guys at school. Why wouldn’t you want her to date a guy like me?”

I could think of a thousand reasons why not, JJ thought.

“All I need you to do is give her a little nudge in my direction,” Kyan explained.

“Listen, I don’t think I’m the right person to—”

“Because I really like her. And this would help me out a lot.”

JJ sat there, entirely confused. The conversation seemed so out of the realm of reality that she almost pinched herself to see if she were dreaming. “Look, I can appreciate your interest in Kendal,” she said, “but I’m not the person you should be talking to.”

“Why not?” Kyan practically whined. “You two seem like best friends or something.”

“We aren’t best friends. We aren’t even friends. I was her tutor. That’s it. We don’t even talk anymore. Why don’t you ask one of her cheerleading buddies to help you out?”

“I did. Kendal didn’t listen to them.”

“Then I’d doubt she’d listen to me.” JJ stood up and pushed her chair in. “I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

“Wait—” Kyan reached over and grabbed hold of JJ’s arm as she passed by his side of the table. “Can’t you at least give me some advice on how to win her over? Anything at all?”

“Like I said, I can’t help you.” JJ stared at his hand until he let go. “I’ve got a game to get to,” she told him sharply.

“That’s it?” Kyan called after her as she walked away. “You won’t even consider helping me out?”

CHAPTER 29

The game had been close, too close for JJ’s liking, but the Sampson Lady Yellow Jackets were able to pull out a win against a formidable rival. Queenie had played superbly, according to Coach Cook, and finished the night with an admirable sixteen points. JJ had played well, too, well enough to redeem herself in Coach’s eyes by turning in eight assists and scoring twelve points.

“Now that’s the JJ I know and love,” Coach Cook said after the end of the game. “That’s the JJ I need to run this offense for the rest of the season.” And so it was official. JJ had secured her starting position.

The team stood in a circle in the middle of the locker room as Coach Cook rambled on about the game.

“We’ve still got a lot to work on, ladies. But I’m pleased with what I saw out on the floor tonight. You not only played with skill, but you also played with heart. And heart is what we need—”

JJ’s mind drifted as she pretended to listen to what Coach Cook was saying. After the game, as she was making her way to the locker room, laughing and relishing the win with her teammates, she’d noticed an unusual face in the crowd. Their eyes met for only a moment before JJ had to look away. She was glad she hadn’t noticed her during the game because then she would have been distracted, she wouldn’t have been able to concentrate, and maybe she wouldn’t have been able to play as well as she had. But now that she’d seen her in the stands, she couldn’t help but wonder what in the world THE Kendal McCarthy was doing there. They hadn’t spoken since Kendal had stood JJ up. They hadn’t even as much as made eye contact. There was no apology, whether by text or by phone. So JJ figured their friendship, or whatever it was, was over.

“Now I want you to enjoy the win for tonight. But tomorrow we start with a clean record once again. Tomorrow we get back to the basics and we start preparing for our next game against William and Mary.”

Coach Cook threw her hand into the center of the circle. Everyone else followed suit. “Great team effort tonight, ladies. Great team effort. I want team on three! One, two, three!”

The word team reverberated throughout the locker room and Coach Cook’s after-game speech finally had ended.

Coach left the room, floating on a natural high that JJ and Queenie assumed would carry her through the rest of the evening.

“Coach can certainly ramble on when she wants to,” Queenie said, as she pulled on her warm-ups.

“She just rambles when she’s happy,” JJ said. “When we lose, it’s a different story. Then it’s always short and sweet.”

“Can’t wait to hear those pep talks. I’m glad we won though. By the way, was that the girl’s team or the boy’s team we just played?”

“The way they knocked your skinny butt around, you wouldn’t know, would you?”

“Knocked me around? I’m all muscle,” Queenie declared, as she flexed her arms. “I can hold my own.”

“You definitely played well tonight. How did Coach put it exactly? Superbly?”

“You weren’t so bad yourself. Looks like you’re back on Coach’s good side.”

“It’s about time.”

Queenie sniffed her underarms, “Man, I stink. You ready? I want to get back and shower before we go out.”

JJ checked in and around her locker to make sure she wasn’t leaving anything behind. “I’m ready. And what’s this ‘we’ stuff? Do you have another lesbian in your pocket or something?”

“Come on, we won a game! That sounds like a good enough reason to celebrate to me.”

“I thought you didn’t care if we won or lost?”

“I don’t care if we lose, but when we win it gives me an excuse to go out.”

“I think I’m going to stay in tonight.” JJ yawned and stretched. “I don’t think I’ve recovered from the fire escape incident just yet.”

They left the locker room together, discussing the highlights of the game as they reentered the gym. JJ was in the middle of reliving a sweet behind-the-back pass that she’d made to Queenie late in the third quarter, when she noticed that Kendal was still sitting on the bleachers.

“The point guard didn’t even see where the ball went!” Queenie exclaimed before she realized that JJ wasn’t walking beside her anymore. As soon as she saw Kendal making her way down the bleachers one step at a time, she knew why.

“Give me a moment,” JJ whispered.

Queenie hesitated.

“Please?”

“Okay. I’ll see you back at the dorm.”

JJ composed herself and stood as tall as she could in an otherwise defensive stance, debating whether or not she should meet Kendal halfway or stay where she was. By the time she made up her mind, Kendal already stood in front of her.

“Great game. You’re really good.”

“Thanks,” JJ replied as evenly as possible.

“I’ve never actually been to women’s basketball game before.” Kendal took in the empty gym. “It was exciting and fun to watch.”

“You know what they say, there’s a first time for everything.”

”That’s very true.”

A lull in the already struggling conversation irritated JJ.

“Hey, look,” she said roughly. “I’m glad you came to the game. But I’ve really got to get—”

“I didn’t come here just to watch the game,” Kendal interrupted. “I came here to apologize.”

“For?”

“For standing you up. For avoiding you. For making you think that—”

“That you are as shallow as the rest of the cheerleading squad?”

Kendal closed her eyes. “I know how it looked,” she said. “But it’s not what you think.”

“You know, Queenie warned me. She said you’d get all freaked out when your friends started wondering why we were hanging out so much.” JJ shoved her hands angrily in her pockets. “She said you’d stop talking to me. And I stuck up for you. I said you’d never do anything like that. Guess you proved her right.”

“I didn’t freak out, as you put it,” said Kendal. “You know me.”

“No, I don’t. That’s the problem. I don’t know you at all.”

“Yes, you do.” Kendal reached out and touched JJ on the arm. “You know me better than anyone else at this school.”

JJ took a giant step backwards. “I thought I knew you,” she said, as she bent over to pick up her gym bag off the floor. “And then I realized that you’re not the person I thought you were at all.”

“At least give me a chance to apologize, to explain what happened,” Kendal pleaded.

“If you’re so eager to apologize, why did you wait so long to talk to me? I’ve seen you around campus and you acted as if I wasn’t there.”

Kendal cringed, “I know—I was embarrassed about what happened. And I thought you were angry with me and needed some space. I just want to explain—”

“You don’t have to explain anything. It is what it is.” JJ slung her gym bag over her shoulder. “Good luck with the rest of your semester, you know, with Emily Dickinson and your Women’s Literature class. I know you’ll do well.” She turned to walk away then stopped abruptly. “Oh, and you should probably know that Kyan Stevens is head over heels for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“He stopped by to see me earlier today. Wanted me to put in a good word for him. Apparently he thought we were good friends or something. I guess he likes you a lot.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because maybe you should give him a chance. Maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all. Maybe he can give you some of those ‘wild nights’ you’ve been wishing for.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. He’s perfect for you. And I’m sure all of your friends would approve.”

Kendal opened her mouth wide but JJ didn’t wait for her to respond. Instead, against her better judgment, she decided to walk away. But when Kendal didn’t try to stop her or come running after her, she wondered if she’d made the right decision.

CHAPTER 30

While she hid strategically behind the big chunky couch in the school lounge, Kendal wondered if Queenie had spotted her. From where she hid, she clearly could see Queenie standing in front of her student mailbox, shuffling through its contents. She was dressed as if she were going out downtown, in faded jeans, a v-neck sweater and an expensive black leather jacket.

To Kendal’s right sat a group of students of various ages, races and religious beliefs. They were a part of the Cultural Awareness Society. Kendal had sneaked into the school lounge under their cover, and pretended to be involved in their group meeting as she kept a watchful eye on Queenie.

“And you are?” Kendal heard a voice ask. She turned her head to see the Cultural Awareness Society president staring directly at her from the podium in the center of the room. His eyes were warm and welcoming, intent on nursing her out of the shadow of the couch.

Kendal stood slowly, gradually exposing herself to the rest of the group. They all wore matching smiles along with their Cultural Awareness Society pins.

“Yes, you behind the couch.” The president pointed a finger. “What’s your name?”

“Kendal—”

“Hello, Kendal. Everyone, please say hello to Kendal.”

“Hello, Kendal,” the students said in unison.

Kendal gave a slight and awkward wave.

“What brings you to our meeting tonight, Kendal?”

“Well—” Kendal stammered and pulled at her fingers. She could see Queenie close and lock her mailbox and head for the doors.

“It’s okay, take your time,” the president said patiently.

“I, I,” Kendal’s eyes darted around the room and then down at her feet. “I was—I’m not here for the meeting, really, I—” She saw a quarter protruding from the couch cushion and quickly bent over to snatch it up. When she stood up, she gladly showed the group the shiny quarter in her hand. “See, earlier today I dropped some change in the couch. But look, I found it!”

The entire group looked at her strangely. Kendal could only flash them a quick apologetic smile before she hurried away from the couch.

“Sorry to interrupt!” she called over her shoulder as she shoved the quarter into her jeans pocket and pushed through the doors.

Queenie was standing on the curb outside, talking on her cell phone. She kept checking her watch after every other sentence, as if she were waiting for someone who obviously was late.

Kendal approached her slowly, and tapped her gently on the shoulder. She spun around and the phone dropped from her ear to her side.

“Can I help you?” Queenie asked.

“Do you have a minute?”

Queenie gestured at the phone in her hand, and then looked back at Kendal.

“It’s important,” Kendal insisted.

Queenie slowly returned the phone to her ear. “Hey. Yeah. Meet me in five minutes instead. Just give me five minutes.” She hung up the phone and slid it into her back pocket, then crossed her arms over her chest. “You’ve got five minutes.”

“Five minutes is all I need,” Kendal said. She took a deep breath and plunged forward into the chilly night air. “I already know what you think of me. But you’ve got it wrong. I wasn’t going to stop talking to JJ. In fact, I want to do the exact opposite. I want to talk to her more. I want to—spend more time with her. I want to—I don’t know. I really—”

“Why’d you stand her up then?” Queenie challenged. “Why did you suddenly stop talking to her? And why did you do exactly what I said you’d do?”

“Because I was confused. I’m still confused. And I needed some space to think about my confusion.” Kendal caught a glimpse of the moon over Queenie’s right shoulder. It distracted her for a moment.

“Confused about what?”

“Feelings. School. Friends. Everything. All of it.” She laughed in spite of herself. “This is so new to me. I can’t even begin to explain or justify it. I don’t even know what I’m saying. But what I do know is that I enjoy spending time with JJ. And I don’t want to stop hanging out with her, no matter what people think or what people say or . . . .”

“Aren’t you saying this to the wrong person?”

“I tried talking to JJ after your basketball game the other day. She wouldn’t even let me explain. I knew she was mad at me, but I guess I didn’t realize how much I hurt her.”

“So, let me guess. You want me to talk to her for you?”

“Not exactly.” Kendal hugged herself to keep warm. “I’m perfectly capable of saying all of this to her myself. And there’s more to be said. I just need for her to give me a chance to say it. I need her to give me a moment to explain what happened.”

“She’s back at the dorm right now,” Queenie said and pointed behind her. “Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

“I’m not going to go beg at her door,” Kendal declared. “Besides, I already tried talking to her, and that didn’t go so well. This time, I thought I’d try a different approach. If she’s really interested in what I have to say, then she’ll come meet me.”

“Meet you where?”

“At my special spot. Tell her to meet me there in an hour. She’ll know where I’m talking about.”

“And what do I get in return for doing this?” Queenie asked.

“You get a chance to help make this right,” Kendal explained. Her breath formed a cloud as she spoke, as if her words were left suspended in air.

Queenie stood firm as she watched Kendal walk away, admiring her long and slender legs as they carried her forward. Then she reached into her back pocket without looking away, pushed a few numbers and raised the phone to her ear. “JJ. It’s me. No, I’m not downtown yet. I haven’t even made it off campus. Something came up. I’m not going anywhere yet. I’ll tell my ride to wait longer. Meet me in the school lounge. It’s important. Yes, I’m serious. Okay. See you in when you get here.”

When Queenie hung up her phone, she could still see Kendal striding along the sidewalk, and continued to watch her from afar, until her silhouette faded into the night.

* * *

“So what happened with Kendal?” Jason asked Kyan as they left the athletic center. “Did you get her friend to talk to her for you?”

The soccer season was over, but Kyan and Jason continued to work out every night as hard as they did at the beginning of the season.

“No,” Kyan answered. “She said she hardly even knows Kendal and that she’s just one of her tutors.”

“What are you going to do now? Are you still going to ask her to the winter formal?”

Kyan rolled his heavy shoulders back. His entire body ached from the back of his neck all the way to the soles on his feet. Winter formal was only a few weeks away. His days to find a suitable replacement were numbered.

“I’m thinking about asking somebody else,” he said quietly.

“What!” Jason stopped walking. “Man, all you’ve been talking about since school started was that you needed to find the perfect girl. Then it was all Kendal McCarthy this and Kendal McCarthy that. Since when do you give up on getting the girl?”

“I’m not giving up, okay. I’m just,” Kyan waved his hand into the air,” exploring my options.”

“I don’t get it. Did you even ask her out?”

“The invite-only party. Remember? She stood me up.”

Jason bit down on his laughter, “Oh—right. I forgot about that.”

“Are you making fun of me?”

“Man, relax. Maybe you just need a different approach.”

“I tried a different approach. The whole sensitive guy routine,” Kyan said, while making quotes with his fingers. “It bombed. The girl just isn’t interested in me for some reason. And I can’t figure out why.”

“Maybe she’s just not into guys.”

“I doubt that.”

“No, seriously. Christine said something about her spending a lot of time with that JJ girl from the basketball team. You know, the one that you talked to. She said Kendal hasn’t been acting like herself since they started hanging out.”

“So?”

“So, maybe she’s tutoring Kendal in more subjects than one,” Jason snickered. “Get it?”

“Dude,” Kyan rolled his eyes, “Shut up.” He began to pick at a loose thread hanging off the back pocket of his jeans.

“What? You can never tell these days.”

Kyan fixed his eyes on him, “Does Christine know that for sure? I mean, does she know if Kendal really is—one?”

“One what? A lesbian?” Jason kicked a rock off the cement path they were standing on. It disappeared onto an adjacent patch of grass. “I don’t know. Does it matter?”

Kyan chewed on the inside of his cheek. “It does now,” he said.

Jason’s eyes drifted from the library to the school lounge, and then to a figure approaching the soccer field.

“Hey, isn’t that—”

Kyan looked up. “I think it is,” he said as he squinted into the darkness. They watched together as the figure took a sharp left off the cement path that led to the soccer field and cut over to the bleachers.

“Where is she going?” Jason wondered out loud.

“I don’t know,” Kyan said. A devilish smile broke out on his face. “But I’m going to follow her.” He handed his gym bag to Jason. “Take this for me.”

“What are you going to do?”

Kyan rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “I’m not sure. But I’m going to find out what’s going on once and for all.

CHAPTER 31

JJ had just finished entering a new poem in her poetry journal when Queenie had called. She reread the words quickly.

Let’s not beat around the bush, so to speak.

I’m weak.

Heart open, mind bleak.

Thoughts reel. So real.

It’s impossible to hide how I feel.

I wear my heart on my sleeve

On my face.

I’ve never tried to deceive

Or pull an about face.

Don’t think I ever could

Ever would.

Want to?

Sometimes I do.

Sometimes it helps, to relieve in itself

The pain.

When I see the sun

I hope for rain.

I may be stuck at the moment . . .

But it’s just a moment.

A week from now I’ll laugh

At my dramatic, erratic, static feelings.

And I’ll think why?

Why all the fears and misconceptions?

I guess that happens when I lose direction

Or fall off my path.

Somewhere, deep inside

I know I’ll find

Courage, strength, and peace of mind

Put my faith

In time.

And move on.

The poem in its entirety was an affirmation of sorts, one that would allow her to finally move on from her thoughts of Kendal. The Dibble Syndrome had hit, only this time she hadn’t let it take over. Sure, she’d moped around for a week or two —but that was it. The first time she was struck by the Dibble Syndrome, Queenie had to help pull her out of the bowels of depression. This time, JJ had been able to do it all by herself.

Perspective—this time she had put everything into perspective: Kendal, stage fright, even basketball. All the things that had sent her thoughts reeling over the past month inspired her to write the poem that had just oozed out of her like sweat from her pores and landed on the page. It made sense, every word, every rhythmic phrase. It was therapy, only without the expensive fee charged by an inquisitive stranger sitting across from her and wearing wire-rimmed glasses.

Queenie had spoken to JJ about perspective before their first basketball game, and though Queenie could take a few things in her life a bit more seriously herself, she’d been right about JJ taking life far too seriously. JJ knew that now. And now she could accept that part of herself and move forward.

JJ wrote the word perspective at the top of the poem, closed the journal, and tucked it neatly under her pillow. Then she threw on some sweatpants and her favorite sweatshirt. As she reached for her baseball cap, so worn that the thread on the brim was coming undone, she began to wonder why Queenie had asked her to come to the school lounge in the first place.

JJ was even more curious when she spotted Queenie sitting on a cushioned chair in the corner of the school lounge that normally was reserved for reading or studying. A meeting of some sort was taking place, and Queenie looked to be completely absorbed in the topic at hand. JJ slipped quietly over to the corner of the room, knocked Queenie’s feet off the small table that sat beside the chair and sat down on top of it.

“What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Listening,” Queenie whispered back.

“What did you want me to meet you here for?”

“Shhhhhh.”

They watched together as a tiny, unassuming, dark-skinned girl, with glasses too big for her face, took the podium. She spoke about tolerance, or lack thereof, at Sampson and how it was the responsibility of the Cultural Awareness Society to help spread understanding and acceptance of all cultures around campus through activities and school-wide functions.

“And you’re listening to this because—”

“The girl has a point,” Queenie responded without turning her attention away from the podium. “The lack of tolerance at this school is downright insulting.”

“You do realize they are talking about culture and not sexual orientation, right?”

“What’s the difference? It’s all about acceptance. I’m thinking of making a hefty donation to their cause, care of the McBride’s. What do you think?”

“Queenie,” JJ said evenly.

“Yeah?”

“Why am I here?”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Queenie sat up straight. “You’ll never guess who I just spoke to.”

JJ looked around the room. “A member of the Cultural Awareness Society, perhaps?”

“Nice try. Care for another guess?”

“I have no idea.”

“You give up too easily.”

“Queenie.”

“None other than THE Kendal McCarthy.”

“What?” JJ stiffened.

“That’s right. I’m talking on my iPhone outside, waiting for my ride downtown when she suddenly comes out of nowhere, taps me on the shoulder, and says she needs to talk to me.”

“What did she say?”

Queenie paused. She pretended to scour the school lounge to make sure no one else was listening in on their conversation. When she was satisfied that no other ears were in sight, she took a deep breath.

“What’s with the theatrics?” JJ asked.

“This is a big deal for me,” Queenie admitted.

“What is?”

“What I’m about to say. It doesn’t happen too often.” Queenie closed her eyes. When she reopened them, she took another deep breath. “Okay. I’ve got two,” she raised three fingers forcefully in the air. “No, three. I’ve got three words for you.”

“Which are—?”

“I. Was. Wrong.”

“You were wrong about what?”

“About Kendal.”

JJ stood up. “As much as I appreciate your confession and the fact that you were even able to get those three little words out of your mouth, I still don’t understand.”

Queenie opened her mouth to respond and JJ covered it immediately with her own hand.

“And before you go on rambling like you sometimes tend to do in these situations, I’d like to make it known here and now that I am officially over THE Kendal McCarthy once and for all. So if you plan on trying to convince me that you were wrong about her for whatever reason, in hopes that I might go speak to her, save your breath. I don’t know what she promised you in exchange for your services, and I don’t want to know. Are we clear?”

Queenie nodded slowly.

“Wonderful,” said JJ. She removed her hand from Queenie’s mouth. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading back to the dorm. Enjoy the rest of your, uh—cultural awareness meeting or whatever.”

“She likes you,” Queenie said before JJ could even take a single step. “And she wants to tell you herself.”

JJ sat down again.

“Are you through acting all high and mighty?” Queenie asked. “Do I have your attention now?”

JJ didn’t answer. She could only nod.

“Good,” Queenie continued. “Before you go off on another pride-fueled ‘I’m over her’ rant, you should know that Miss McCarthy didn’t offer me anything in return for talking to you. I asked, of course, but the charming cheerleading darling somehow managed to convince me to do this out of pure goodwill. The nerve of some people.”

Queenie sat back and swung a leg over the arm of the chair.

“What I was about to tell you before you so rudely shoved your grubby little hand over my mouth was that all Kendal wants is an opportunity to explain to you what happened. For some reason, one that I can’t quite put my finger on, she likes spending time with you. I got the impression that she even missed you. And she was devastated when you walked out of the gym the other night without letting her explain her side of the story.”

JJ cleared her throat.

“Basically,” Queenie continued, “what I am trying to say is that she likes you. And I’m not talking about the ‘I want to be gal pals’ kind of like either. I’m talking ‘like like.’ The ‘I think about you way too often and it scares me’ kind of like. And if you get off your high horse and remove the ‘but I’ve still got my pride’ plugs that you’ve stuck into your ears for just one second, you might hear her say it for yourself. She’s waiting for you at her ‘special spot.’”

“She likes me?” JJ asked in wonder. “Did she actually say that?”

“She didn’t have to,” Queenie said as she leaned over and snatched the baseball cap off JJ’s head and placed it backwards on her own head. “It was obvious. I mean, come on! This is me you’re talking to. Queenie McBride. I can tell when a girl wants to be more than just friends.”

“I can’t believe this!” JJ yelled. A few members of the Cultural Awareness Society cast their eyes at her. “Just when I’m over the girl, you turn around and tell me this.”

“Funny—this wasn’t the reaction I pictured you having.”

“No?”

“I was expecting a triumphant roar of some kind.” Queenie fiddled with the baseball cap. “Man, you’ve got a small head.”

“I can’t believe this!” JJ yelled again. A chorus of “Shhhhh’s” fired at her from all directions. She grabbed her baseball cap back, and slammed it down on her head.

“JJ,” Queenie whispered. “I was wrong about her. You were right. She’s not like I thought she was. I think she really cares about you. You have to believe me. I don’t admit to being wrong for just anybody.”

“I know,” JJ whispered in return. “I just—maybe I should just leave well enough alone.”

“That’s up to you, my friend. I did my part.”

“And I appreciate that. I know how hard it is for you to do things out of the simple kindness of your heart.”

“What can I say?” Queenie stood up and stretched her long body. “You must be rubbing off on me.” She watched as the Cultural Awareness Society began to wrap up their meeting. “I think I’m going to make that donation after all. Then I’m heading downtown.” She pointed at JJ. “Call me if you need to. I’ll ditch everyone in a heartbeat to come and pick you up.”

“Thanks,” said JJ, standing up to give Queenie a semi-hug. Queenie gave her an encouraging nod before she disappeared out the door. There were three sets of doors to the school lounge. One set led up the school campus to the dormitories. Another led down the school campus to the library and dining hall. And the one in the middle led to the path by the fountain, en route to the athletic center and the soccer field. In front of the soccer field were the bleachers and the scorers’ box. And under the scorers’ box was the special spot where Kendal supposedly was waiting. All JJ had to do was walk through a set of doors. Walking through them would be the easy part. The hard part was to choose which doors.

CHAPTER 32

Kendal sat on the blanket she and JJ had shared the last time they had been under the scorers’ box together. Her entire body shivered from the cold or maybe it was the anticipation, she couldn’t tell.

The flashlight lay on the ground beside her, casting a dim beam over the blanket. If Queenie had come through for her, JJ would be there beside her any moment now and she could finally explain her side of the story. The shuffling of sneakers against the grass caused her to stand up.

“Well, well, well,” Kyan said smugly as he emerged from the darkness. “What do we have here?”

Kendal’s sweet smile soured instantly. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Kyan returned, clasping his hands together and blowing hot air between them. “It’s cold out here.” He approached the blanket.

“That seat is reserved for someone else,” Kendal told him at once. She crossed her arms in frustration. “How did you even find me?”

“I followed you,” Kyan said as he sat down on the blanket despite Kendal’s protest. “Nice little set up you got here. Perfect for a secret rendezvous, eh?”

“That’s none of your business,” said Kendal as she scanned the darkness, worried that JJ would arrive at any second. “Please, just go.”

“Why? Who is this person you are so eagerly waiting for?”

“Why do you care?”

“I care because you stood me up not so long ago and I’m curious to know why. We have so much in common. We’d make a great couple.” He winked at her. “Think about it. We could take this school by storm.”

“Look,” Kendal spat. “I apologize for standing you up. But I specifically said I was meeting you as a friend that night and nothing more.”

“Some friends come with benefits.”

Kendal pointed a hard finger at him, “You just can’t take no for an answer. Don’t you get it? I don’t like you. I’ve never even entertained the thought. The only reason I even agreed to go to that stupid party in the first place was because Christine begged me to go. And in the end, I found a much better way to spend my night.”

“With some other guy, right?”

“It was a girl, if you must know. A friend.”

“A friend?” Kyan forced a laugh. “Would this so-called friend be the tutor you’ve been spending so much time with lately?”

“Have you hired a private investigator or has Christine been filling your ears with gossip again?” Kendal looked at him with distaste. “Either way, you’re pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” Kyan snorted and pointed a lazy finger at himself. “You think I’m pathetic?”

Kendal laughed sweetly at him. “I’ve got a little news bulletin for you since you’re so interested in gossip.” She hovered over him as if she were about to share a secret. “The entire student body at Sampson thinks you’re pathetic. You are the biggest self-centered, egotistical moron I’ve ever met. It’s been said, pretty much by every girl you have ever dated at this school, that you spend most dates complimenting yourself with every other sentence you utter. Have you ever noticed why the girls you hook up with suddenly stop talking to you? Or did you actually think that you were the one playing them?”

“I—”

“Oh—you did, didn’t you? How sad.”

Kyan stared down at the blanket. His charisma had melted away, and his confidence had been deflated like a popped balloon. “I just came here to ask you why you don’t like me,” he confessed. “You didn’t have to be so mean about it.”

“Well, now you know,” said Kendal.

Kyan stood up, his mind in a daze as he stepped aimlessly around the blanket. “I thought I was just doing what was expected of me,” he explained. “I’m the captain of the soccer team, so I’m supposed to get all the girls. I take care of myself physically, I get good grades, I’m one of the most popular guys in the whole school, and I’m going to college next fall to prepare for law school. I’ve done everything right.”

“Not everything.”

He looked at her, desperation in his eyes. “Then tell me, what am I doing wrong?”

Kendal’s own eyes softened. She suddenly felt sorry for him. “You aren’t doing anything wrong. It’s not about what you do. It’s about who you are. And apparently you aren’t being yourself. You act so conceited, it turns people off.”

“I can be a nice guy,” Kyan maintained.

“Then why do you act like such a jerk most of the time?”

“I guess I always thought that’s how I was supposed to act.”

“Who says? If people knew the real you, the insecure and sincere person you are behind closed doors, they might respect you more.”

“Who said I’m insecure?” Kyan said quickly.

Kendal stared at him firmly.

“What? Guys aren’t supposed to be insecure,” he told her.

“Where did you get all of these ridiculous rules from? Is there some book out there that states what guys should or shouldn’t be?”

“My father’s in the military,” he said. “They’re his rules, not mine.”

“Maybe it’s time to make a new set of rules then.” Kendal approached him, setting her hands on his shoulders. “That’s the real point of going off to college, isn’t it? It’s about finding out who you really are, no matter what other people think. Do you really want to be the same person in college as you are now? You’re going to meet a whole new set of people and friends. You might as well let them see the real you.”

Kyan didn’t answer.

“I know that I’m not going to pretend to be something I’m not, anymore,” Kendal continued. “It isn’t worth it. High school is such a small part of our entire lives. Once we graduate, it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Who’s going to brag ten years from now that they were on the soccer team or the cheerleading squad at Sampson Academy? I’m not. That’s why I don’t care who says what about me anymore, or who disapproves of what I do or even who I like.”

“So it’s true, then. You really are a lesbian?” Kyan asked.

Kendal laughed and dropped her hands to her side. “I don’t know what I am,” she said. “But does it really matter?”

“No, I guess not.”

“Look, I’m in no position to tell you what to do. But if you’re so concerned with what people think about you, how can you ever really be yourself? Aren’t you always going to be afraid of what everyone else is thinking?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Because I was doing the exact same thing before I met—” Kendal paused because she thought she heard footsteps. She peered into the shadows, but there was no one there.

“Before you met who?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said. “I’m just saying I know how you feel. Look, I’m really sorry but I’m kind of waiting for someone, and it’s important to me, so if you don’t mind—”

“It’s okay, really.”

As Kyan leaned forward to hug her, Kendal backed away and gave him her hand to shake instead. He stared at it blankly, and then took it in his hand.

“Would you do me one favor?” he whispered. “Can you not tell anybody about this? I don’t want to ruin my reputation or anything.”

CHAPTER 33

Christine watched helplessly as Kendal packed her books into several pink plastic crates. Her clothes were spread across her bed, ready to be carried away to some other closet.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” This was the fifth time Christine had asked since Kendal had started packing.

“Nope,” Kendal replied.

“Because I can help you carry your clothes up to Mya’s room if you want. I’m not doing anything, and—”

“I can do it by myself.” Kendal lifted one crate of books on top of the other, calculating in her head how many trips it would take to cart her stuff up to Mya’s room on the fourth floor of the dorm. She had decided to move in with Mya the week before, hoping that after winter break she could start the spring semester off fresh and new. New semester. New classes. New living space. New Kendal McCarthy.

“Aren’t you ever going to forgive me?” Christine whined. “I’ve already been scolded by Mya and she’s making me help her organize some gay and straight alliance group or something at school. Is that enough?”

“Personally, I think you got off easy,” Kendal said as she turned and faced Christine head on. “If it were me, I would have kicked you off of the squad altogether.”

“Kendal, I said I was sorry a billion times!” Christine slid down on her bed as if she were too weak to stand. “I did what I did because I just wanted my best friend back.”

“You lied to my face and you made me think I was getting kicked off the squad just so I’d stop hanging out with someone you disapproved of. What kind of best friend does that?”

“Can’t you understand?” Christine pleaded.

“No, I can’t understand,” Kendal said. She turned her back and resumed packing.

After realizing she was getting nowhere, Christine hopped off the bed in a huff. “You’ve changed, you know that?”

“I have changed,” Kendal agreed. “The problem is that you’ve stayed the same.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kendal picked up a stack of crates and held them evenly against her chest.

“Go look in the mirror,” she advised. “Then you’ll see what I mean.”

She pushed past Christine. Steadying the crates in her arms, she made her way up the two flights of stairs and down the hall to Mya’s room.

It would have been easy for her to blame Christine for ruining her chances with JJ as well, but Kendal knew she’d done that all by herself. It was painfully obvious that JJ wanted nothing more to do with her since she never showed up under the scorers’ box that night.

Kendal had waited in the cold, sitting on top of a damp blanket and flicking the flashlight off and on for almost two hours before she’d finally given up hope. And though Christine wasn’t directly responsible, she sure was an attractive scapegoat.

“How much more stuff do you have?” Mya asked, as Kendal entered her room.

“Not much,” Kendal grunted as she set down the crates on the floor. “Just a few more crates and my clothes.”

“Let me help you.”

“It’s okay,” said Kendal. “I can do it. Letting me move in here is help enough.”

“I have plenty of room. It’s not a big deal at all.”

“Good. Because I needed to get as far away from Christine as possible.”

“How is she taking it?”

“Poorly.”

“If it’s any consolation, I know she feels bad about it.”

“Right. I can tell how broken up about it she is by the way she whines in her satin sheets.”

Mya helped Kendal unpack some of the books from the crates on the floor. “Honest. She does feel bad about what she did.”

“She feels bad because you are making her help form a gay and straight alliance,” said Kendal. “That’s what she feels bad about.”

Mya lifted a volume of Emily Dickinson’s poetry out of the crate and began to thumb through it. She turned to one particularly dog-eared page with a highlighted poem. The margins of the page were covered with notes and doodles. She noticed that JJ’s name was scribbled along the margin more than once.

“Is it possible,” Mya asked gently, “that your frustration with Christine is more about your feelings for JJ than anything else?”

“What?” Kendal snatched the book away from Mya as soon as she saw her looking at it. “No, it’s not!”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Maybe,” Kendal admitted, reluctantly. With her finger she slowly traced the lettering on the cover of the book. “Maybe it has less to do with Christine and more with the fact that I know I’m the one who messed things up with JJ.”

“What happened exactly?”

“I don’t know.” Kendal frowned, as she placed the book on the shelf next to the others. “I asked her to meet me so I could explain everything. And she never showed up. I guess she wasn’t interested in my explanation.”

“So what now?”

“Now, nothing.” Kendal stacked the empty crates in the closet. “Time to move on. New semester. New things to come.”

“Such as—”

“Well, for starters I’ve decided to pursue Women’s Literature as my major in college next year. And I’m even thinking about getting my master’s degree.”

“Really? I wouldn’t have pegged you for—”

“A brain? Me, neither. But, things change.”

Mya sat down on her bed. “I didn’t mean to imply anything by that,” she said.

“I know,” Kendal replied apologetically. “I’m a little on edge still. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I understand.” Mya opened the brick-red binder that was sitting next to her, and began sifting through some papers.

“What’s that?” Kendal asked.

“My obsessive-compulsive organization skills kicking in,” Mya answered. She picked up the binder and showed it to Kendal. “It’s basically an organizational tool for the winter formal.” She flipped over a few pages as she spoke. “For instance, here’s a list of possible venues, and here’s a list of Deejays and limo rentals. You name it—it’s on here. I even have a list of who’s going with whom just to keep on top of everything.”

“You can mark me down as going solo,” Kendal said.

“Really? I thought Kyan would have asked you for sure.”

Kendal smiled wickedly. “Kyan won’t be asking me anytime soon. I can promise you that.”

“I wonder who he’s going to ask then. I think I’d faint if he ever asked me.”

“You like Kyan?”

“He’s gorgeous!” Mya cooed like a little school girl. “And have you seen him without his shirt on? I could scrub my clothes clean on that washboard he calls his stomach!”

Kendal burst out laughing.

“What?” Mya asked innocently. “You don’t think he’s good looking?”

“Sure, if you like that meathead, jockish sort of look.”

“Oh. I forgot.”

“Forgot what.”

“You’re into girls now,” Mya teased.

“I’m not into girls now,” Kendal returned. “I’m into someone who happens to be a girl. And apparently she’s not into me.”

“Well, I happen to think Kyan is cute.”

“Why don’t you ask him to the winter formal then?”

“Me? I couldn’t.” Mya blushed. “He’d never say yes.”

“Why not? You’re cute, popular and the captain of the cheerleading team. He’d be nuts not to say yes.”

“You think so?”

“I think you’re just the kind of girl Kyan Stevens needs in his life.”

Mya jumped up off the bed, and took Kendal’s hand. “Come on. I’ll help you get the rest of your stuff up here,” she said. “Then you can help me think of what to say to Kyan. If I’m going to get up the nerve to ask him, I have to do it soon. Otherwise he might ask somebody else!”

CHAPTER 34

JJ stood in front of The Spot, debating whether or not to go in. Her stroll, in search of inspiration for writing, had led her nowhere in particular. She still lacked motivation to even pick up a pen. And sitting in the back corner of the coffee shop, listening to successful, imaginative writers spew out poem after poem, certainly lacked appeal. Yet she continued to linger, finding it hard to ignore the temptation of a warm beverage and the stimulation of caffeine.

The sun had just settled in for the night, and the chill in the air had now turned from a nibble to a bite. JJ shivered and wished she’d worn a jacket over her Sampson Lady Yellow Jackets sweatshirt.

“You just going to stand there all night?”

JJ spun around to see Kyan Stevens standing directly behind her. His hands were shoved deep into the front pockets of his jeans in an effort to keep them warm.

“Some of us would actually like to get a cup of coffee,” said his friend Jason, who was standing beside him.

“Oh, right.” JJ stepped aside to let them pass.

They shuffled by her, barely acknowledging her presence. Then for some reason Kyan hesitated awkwardly in the doorway, and then turned abruptly toward JJ.

“Hey Jason, I’ll catch up with you. Save me a spot in line.”

JJ could feel the knots in her stomach tighten. What did he want to talk to her about now?

“I’m sure Kendal told you what happened,” he whispered, once he was back outside on the sidewalk.

JJ stared at him vacantly.

“You know, under the scorers’ box the other night?”

JJ cringed. “No,” she said blandly. “Kendal didn’t share that tidbit of information with me, and I’m sure whatever happened between the two of you is a private matter.”

“I asked her not to tell anyone about it,” said Kyan.

At that moment, JJ recalled the excitement she felt flowing through her when she’d left the school lounge and headed down campus to the soccer field where Queenie had said Kendal would be waiting. All of her rationality and levelheaded reasoning had flown out the window. She had gone there, clinging to one last hope that this time the hopeless romantic would win.

And then she saw them under the scorers’ box together. Kendal was holding Kyan’s shoulders gently, as if she were about to ease in for a kiss. JJ almost called out to her, but muffled her words before they left her mouth. Instead, she turned and ran. She sprinted across campus as if some masked man were chasing her. But there was no masked man. And when she finally stopped running, she collapsed to the ground in front of her dormitory, completely out of breath and, more significantly, completely heartbroken.

“I thought she’d tell you,” said Kyan, breaking into JJ’s flashback.

“Well, she didn’t.” JJ rudely shifted her backpack from one shoulder to the other. “And I doubt she will any time soon.”

“Fine by me,” said Kyan. “One less thing I need to worry about then.”

As he turned and reached for the door, JJ gave him a slight nod. “You two make a cute couple,” she said. “I hope you treat her right.”

“Couple?” Kyan echoed, the door to the coffee shop swaying gingerly in his hands. “I don’t think so. She’s too much to deal with. Besides, I heard she’s got a thing for chicks.”

“Chicks?”

“Yeah, other girls. Namely you.”

JJ’s backpack dropped to the ground. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Kendal.” Kyan glanced inside the coffee shop.

Jason was inching closer to the front of the line, simultaneously mouthing “What’s going on?”

Kyan held up a finger, telling him to wait a minute. Then he let go of the door and approached JJ slowly. “She really didn’t tell you what happened then?”

“No. She didn’t.” JJ tried to read his expression but all she could tell was that he was as confused as she was. “What happened that night? Did you guys—you know—hook-up?”

“Ha! I wish. I think that if I had made a pass at her she probably would have punched me out.”

“But I saw you together. Kendal was holding onto your shoulders. You two were about to kiss, just like some scene out of a romantic comedy.”

“You saw us?” Kyan struggled to recall the incident. Then it hit him. “She was waiting for you!” He pointed at JJ adamantly. “I knew it! I knew you were the person she’d been expecting.”

“If she was expecting me then why were you there?”

“I saw her sneak under the bleachers, so I followed her,” Kyan explained. “I wanted to know what was going on with her, and she basically put me in my place.”

“Put you in your place?”

“Yeah.” Kyan peered cautiously over JJ’s shoulder and then behind him before he continued. “She told me to stop acting like such a conceited jerk all the time.”

“Well, that’s good advice.” JJ smiled.

“We talked about a few other things, too. But that’s why I asked you if she said anything to you because,” he glanced around again, “I don’t want anyone knowing I have a soft side.”

“So nothing happened between you two?”

“Nope. Like I said, she said she was expecting someone else. But I’m positive she was waiting for you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because her eyes lit up the moment I mentioned you.”

A warm, tingling sensation burst in JJ’s stomach. “So, let me get this straight,” she said. “Kendal didn’t want you there. You followed her because you wanted to know why she stood you up, and when she saw you she basically told you to get lost?”

“Yeah—that’s basically it.”

JJ’s eyes danced around, bouncing off the sidewalk, the sky and Kyan’s face. “I am such a complete and utter idiot,” she said suddenly, and smacked herself in the forehead.

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” She grabbed her backpack off the ground. “I’m sorry, but I have to go.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Kyan called after her as she hurried down the street. “You promise you won’t say anything, right? About me, you know, being soft and everything?”

He waited for JJ to respond but she was already halfway down the street. And it was obvious that she’d no intention of stopping.

CHAPTER 35

Kendal sat down on her new bed, even though it was still unmade. She was exhausted from moving everything she owned up two flights of stairs. Her arms felt like slabs of jelly, and her lower back ached. She flopped down and closed her eyes. Just as she was about to fall asleep, the door to her room opened.

“Mya—don’t even think about trying to convince me to do anything tonight,” Kendal mumbled. “I’m exhausted and I still have to make my bed.”

“It’s not Mya,” said a familiar voice.

Kendal’s eyes shot open. “What are you doing here?” she asked as JJ came into her view.

“Looking for you.”

“How did you know where to look?”

“Mya told me where you were,” JJ explained. “She said you were up here getting some beauty rest or something.” She observed Kendal’s new surroundings. “I have to say I like this room much better than your last.”

“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.”

“So where is THE Kendal McCarthy?” Queenie asked as her eyes searched around the room. “I thought you two were hunkered down in the library studying?”

“We were earlier this morning.” JJ eyed the clock beside her bed. “She’s probably finishing up her Women’s Literature exam as we speak.”

“You know, I hate to admit it, but she’s pretty cool.”

“I’ll spare you the ‘I told you so’ then.”

Queenie held up her hands to protest. “No, no. I won’t take your charity. I deserve any ‘I told you so’ you can throw at me. I was wrong about her.” She paused momentarily. “I feel like I’ve been wrong about a lot of things lately.”

“Wait a second. Did your conscience suddenly grow back again?”

“I’m serious,” Queenie insisted. She jumped up and tossed her cup into the garbage can with a single hook shot. “I never realized how cynical I could be.”

“Sure, you can be cynical sometimes, but we all can.”

“I know—it’s just that I started thinking that maybe I’m part of the problem. I never give anyone a chance at a relationship because I’m already convinced that it won’t work out anyway. I’ve spent a great deal of my adolescent life expecting the worst when I could be missing out on the best.”

“Looks like you’re finally putting that genius of a mind to good use.”

“If I’ve learned anything from you over the past three years it’s that sometimes your heart is going to get broken and sometimes it isn’t. But if you never take that chance, you’ll never know the difference between the two. I don’t know what it feels like to put your all into someone. To take a risk like that.”

JJ watched as Queenie slumped sadly down onto the floor. “Are you okay?” she asked.

“I just—” Queenie stopped and looked up at a poster on the wall, then longingly at a collage of photos arranged on the corkboard hanging on the back of their door. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what’s going on with me, but I think you might be right. I think I’ve gone and grown a conscience after all.”

“It happens to the best of us.”

“Hey, do you remember when I said I was going to slip in the ‘I’m a big, scary lesbian’ secret during my maid of honor speech at my sister’s wedding?”

“How could I forget? It’s the only reason I’m going to the wedding.”

“I’ve decided that maybe—just maybe—it isn’t such a dandy idea after all.”

“Oh?” JJ climbed up off of her bed and sat down on the floor beside Queenie. “What tipped you off exactly?”

“Besides the fact that it’s an incredibly self-serving, devilishly-motivated, not to mention childish, thing to do?”

“Yes, besides all of that.”

Queenie sighed. “Well, it’s that whole risk thing I was talking about. My sister is taking that risk. She’s putting her all into someone, and that’s something that deserves to be celebrated. It’s something special, and who am I to take that away from her?”

JJ reached over and put her arm around Queenie’s shoulders. “It only took you three and a half years of private school to mature into a well-adjusted, morally-sound young woman. I’m so proud.”

“Moral?” Queenie asked in disbelief. “Well-adjusted? Please! Let’s not go overboard here. I still plan on making a colossal splash into my parent’s pool of normalcy by declaring my homosexuality to the rest of the McBride family soon enough. It’s simply a question of when.”

“Graduation perhaps?”

Queenie smiled deviously, “Perhaps.”

* * *

JJ sat nervously in her chair in the back corner of The Spot, shifting her position every other minute, fighting the overwhelming sensation to bolt from the room as soon as the opportunity presented itself. The lighting was dim, thankfully, so nobody else at her table could see that she wasn’t only pale, but that a soft shade of seaweed green had settled along her cheekbones as well.

“You okay?” Kendal asked. She was sitting beside JJ, and every once in a while her hand drifted over and squeezed JJ’s leg in moral support.

JJ nodded in return, afraid that if she opened her mouth to speak, an awful regurgitated mess would come rushing out.

“She’s fine,” said Queenie confidently. “Look at her. She’s ready to nail this like a three-pointer at the buzzer.”

“I think I can do without the basketball metaphors,” JJ grumbled.

“Oh, right,” said Queenie. “How about, she’s ready to knock this one out of the park!”

“And without baseball metaphors, for that matter.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to lighten up the situation here.”

“Well, stop.”

Queenie sat back in her chair and mumbled something about JJ having a poetry book stuck up her butt.

“What’s that thing everyone always says?” asked Kendal. “Pick someone in the crowd and picture them naked?”

“I think if I pictured anyone naked I’d start laughing.” JJ forced a laugh.

“I’d be able to concentrate just fine,” Queenie smirked.

JJ ignored her and took in the crowd. It was as if people kept multiplying like pods from some alien invasion movie.

“Is it me or are there more people in here than usual?” she whispered to Kendal.

“More than usual. I invited everyone on the cheerleading squad. And each one of them probably invited someone else and so on and so forth. And then someone probably posted it on Twitter and it went viral or something.”

“Isn’t that Mya?” JJ asked.

Kendal’s hand shot up in the air, “Hey, Mya!”

Mya made her way to their table dragging an unenthusiastic Kyan Stevens behind her.

“Ever since she asked him to the winter formal, she’s been waving him around like an Oscar or something,” Kendal slipped in through tight lips.

“Are they together?” JJ asked.

“I guess so. Honestly, I don’t think Kyan even had a choice in the matter.”

“Hey, ladies!” Mya said cheerfully as soon as she reached the table. She gave Kendal a slight squeeze of the hand and winked at JJ as if they shared some special secret. “We just came over to wish you good luck.”

JJ smiled politely, and watched Kyan fidget until Mya elbowed him gently in the gut.

“Uh, yeah. Good luck,” he mumbled, as he rubbed the sore spot.

“I must say, you two make quite the darling couple,” Queenie remarked.

Both Kendal and JJ shot her a warning look, but it was too late. Her mouth was already off and running.

“I swear you two are the Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes of this school. I bet they’ll even dub you KyMya in the school paper.”

“You think so?” Mya asked, genuinely serious. She grabbed hold of Kyan’s hand. “I think we’re going to be voted king and queen of winter formal this year!”

“Oh, that would totally rock, girl!” Queenie replied, as she slapped Mya on the arm in an overly enthusiastic and utterly obnoxious sort of way.

“Cut it out,” JJ mouthed, and turned her head swiftly as soon as Mya looked in her direction.

“Are you nervous at all?”Mya asked.

“Me?” JJ pointed at her chest. “Not at all.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s not nervous at all,” added Queenie. “Just look at her. She’s as steady as a rock.”

JJ scowled at Queenie.

“She’s just psyching herself up,” said Kendal. “You know, kind of like how we prepare before a cheerleading competition.”

Both JJ and Queenie looked at Kendal. She shrugged her shoulders back at them.

“Well, we better find a seat before they’re all taken,” Mya shifted. She yanked Kyan by the sleeve of his shirt and they wandered away through the crowd.

“That Kyan, he sure is a lucky guy,” said Queenie.

“Mya’s a sweetheart,” Kendal maintained.

“He looked absolutely miserable,” said JJ.

“Wouldn’t you be if you had to deal with that?” Queenie pointed behind her with her thumb.

“Hey!” said Kendal as she hit Queenie playfully in the arm. “Mya’s a little—particular, that’s all. She’s a girl who knows what she wants. And it’ll do Kyan some good to be led around by his tail for a while. He needs to be knocked down a peg or two.”

JJ was about to add a few more cents-worth to the conversation when she saw Mrs. Clark take the stage. In an instant, she lost all sense of reality and her head began to sway lazily from side to side.

She felt Kendal squeeze her knee under the table again and thought she saw Queenie give her the number one sign. Or maybe it was the peace sign—she couldn’t tell. At this point she was seeing everything double.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” JJ announced, as she felt sweat break out over her entire body. The damp taste in her mouth went dry, and she began to hyperventilate.

“Take deep breaths,” Kendal suggested, as she leaned closer and rubbed JJ’s back.

“You don’t look so good,” said Queenie. “I’ll go get you some water.”

JJ pushed her chair away from the table and bent down until her head was between her knees. She felt Kendal rub the small of her back as she tried desperately to block Mrs. Clark’s voice from her ears.

Queenie returned with a cup of ice water and proceeded to dump it over the top of JJ’s head.

“Hey!” JJ screamed instantly as she leaped up from her chair.

A hush fell over the entire coffee shop. Chairs shifted, conversation halted and a high-pitched feedback squeal erupted out of the microphone in Mrs. Clark’s hand.

JJ stood there, water droplets sliding down her cheeks and nestling in the part between her lips, as every person in the entire room stared at her. With her cheeks growing hotter, JJ knew she’d turned a deep shade of pink. “Thanks for the water,” she hissed at Queenie.

“At least you’ve got your color back,” Queenie offered in return.

“JJ,” Mrs. Clark shouted into the microphone. “I’m glad to see that you’re so excited about this reading. For a minute there I thought no one was going to volunteer to go first, and I’d have to start calling names.”

JJ gulped, hard.

“Why don’t you start us off then?”

“Go get ’em, tiger,” Queenie said with a fist pump. She gave JJ an encouraging nod and sat down next to Kendal, who held her breath in anticipation.

“Whenever you’re ready, JJ,” said Mrs. Clark.

JJ licked her dry lips and commanded her legs to move forward. She walked with her head down and her shoulders low until she reached the stage.

CHAPTER 38

When she looked out into the crowd, JJ avoided any and all eye contact with the faces she recognized, and focused on the ones she didn’t know, until they blended together into a sea of colors. She caught a glimpse of Olivia Green, the best writer in class, smiling supportively at her from the back of the room. JJ’s trembling lips parted slightly and a short and purposeful breath escaped. It was the final signal that there was no going back.

Her eyes began one final lap around the room. They stopped about halfway around the track, settling on Kendal and Queenie in the corner. Queenie, of course, was making a funny face at her and it almost made JJ laugh out loud. Her shoulders straightened, and her hands reached out on their own and grabbed hold of the microphone.

“I wrote this for class—well, I suppose you could say I wrote it. I prefer to say that it flew out of me like water from a faucet. I turned the handle and suddenly the words were there, and they kept coming. There were no breaks in the lines and no pauses to question where the poem was headed. The words just kept flowing from my pen, one after the other. And these are the words that ended up on the page. These are the words I was asked to read out loud today and they come in the form of a poem entitled, ‘Mother May I?’”

As the crowd waited, JJ grabbed hold of a wooden stool from the back of the stage and pulled it forward. She sat down with her eyes facing the floor and when she felt confident enough to proceed, she lifted her eyes to the crowd.

“She tied my hair in ribbons, I untied them and my hair ran wild.

She forced a cotton shirt over my head. I took it off and basked naked in the sun.

She remembered days of girlie pom-poms. I dribbled a ball aggressively down the court.

She often wondered who I was inside. I boasted that I was her only daughter.

She cringed at my defiance. I cringed at her reluctance.

Yet, somehow we connected through years of change when I finally wore a dress.

She accepted our fate. I accepted our gender.

We found a common strand, which wove a mother and daughter from two different textures.

Together, we knitted a quilt that I now use when I get cold.”

CHAPTER 39

Kendal watched the band set up their instruments on the stage. A guy with crow-black shaggy hair and tattooed arms strummed a few strings of his guitar and twisted the knobs at the end. He looked up briefly and caught her watching him. She smiled momentarily, and then refocused her attention on the book in front of her, a biography of Emily Dickinson. When she decided it was safe to let her eyes wander again, he was standing right in front of her.

“Come here often?” he asked, while chomping on a piece of gum.

“Every Friday night,” she said politely.

“A fan?”

“A fan of poetry, actually.” Kendal raised the book in her hand so he could read the title.

“Emily Dickinson? I’ve never heard of her.”

“She was a poet. You should read some her work. It’s amazing.”

“Maybe I will. My name is Brad, by the way.” He pointed to the rest of the band members behind him. “We’re called Candy Hearts. We’re pretty popular in this area.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of you,” Kendal teased.

“Touché,” said Brad with a snap of his finger. “I guess we’re not as popular as Emily Dickinson.”

“Guess not.” Kendal extended her hand to him. “I’m Kendal, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Kendal.”

“So—Candy Hearts? That explains your shirt then.” She pointed to his maroon T-shirt which had a white heart on the front of it with the phrase “I like you” printed on it.

“Clever, isn’t it?” he grinned. “Candy hearts make for great T-shirt designs when you’re trying to promote a band.”

“Why Candy Hearts?”

“Why not? Beats out the other names we came up with.”

“Which were?”

“Four Guys and a Drummer or, A Drummer and Four Guys.”

“Clever.”

“I don’t think we would have come up with as brilliant a T-shirt design for those.”

“Agreed.”

“Speaking of T-shirts, would you like one?”

“Tempting—but I think I’m going to have to pass.”

“So listen,” Brad said, as he tapped his fingers at the sides of his jeans. “I’ve got a few moments before we are supposed to warm up. May I join you?” He gestured at the open seat across from Kendal.

“I’m sorry,” she said as nicely as possibly. “I’m waiting for my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“As in a girl who’s a friend or as in a girl you’re dating?”

“As in a girl I’m dating.”

“Really?” He paused. “I don’t mean this in a bad way or anything, but I never would have guessed that you were gay?”

“Neither did I,” Kendal smiled.

“So what brings you here on a Friday night? I thought Sampson Academy was a party school?”

“This is our favorite place to hang out, actually. My girlfriend participates in the poetry slam every Friday night. After you’re done playing, you should stick around and check her out.”

“Maybe I will.” As Brad turned to leave, he stopped suddenly. “She wouldn’t like to buy one of our T-shirts by chance, would she?”

“No,” Kendal laughed. “I don’t think so.”

“Never hurts to ask.”

“Stick around after your set,” said Kendal. “She might change her mind after she hears you play.”

“Will do.”

Kendal looked on as Brad crept back to the stage and traded barbs with his band mates about how he had just been shot down. She leaned back in her chair and set the open book face down on the table so she wouldn’t lose her spot. She looked out of the adjacent window, which gave a clear view of the school’s front lawn that was a few hundred yards away. The fountain in the center of the quad had been turned on a week earlier, signaling that spring had arrived at last. Everything around her felt fresh and new.

As Kendal began to consider the strange course of events that had occurred during the school year, she glimpsed JJ walking toward the coffee shop with her head high, no longer shuffling her feet across the ground in the unsure way she had before. Kendal felt the warmth in her chest expand. That night on stage when she’d read her poem aloud, a new and confident JJ was born, a person that Kendal somehow had grown to love even more than she had before.

Since then, JJ had participated in every poetry slam and open reading held at The Spot. Recently, some interested poetry fans invited her to perform at clubs in downtown Richmond. She’d also become a frequent contributor to a local literary magazine.

As for Kendal, she’d finally found that purpose or sense of direction she’d been searching for. She’d decided to study Women’s Literature in college and then go on and get her master’s degree. Eventually, she wanted to become a teacher, enlightening young minds with the magic of poetry in the same way that JJ had enlightened hers. She’d also decided to quit the cheerleading squad, because it just wasn’t important to her anymore. Kendal never felt more secure than she did at that moment. And she had JJ and Emily Dickinson to thank for that.

“Have you been waiting long?” JJ asked, once she reached the table.

“Not at all,” said Kendal. “Just preparing myself for another one of our ‘wild nights.’”

“You make it sound like a boring night,” JJ teased. “Try saying it with a little more oomph this time.”

“Oomph?” Kendal played along.

“Yeah, oomph.”

Kendal stood up, laughed and cleared her throat. “WILD nights! WILD nights! Were I with thee, WILD nights should be our luxury!”

“That was much better,” said JJ. She smiled and took hold of her girlfriend’s hand as Kendal sat back down. Only this time she didn’t dare let go.

* * * THE END * * *

Follow Queenie and JJ as they head to college in:

The Education of Queenie McBride

by

Lyndsey D’Arcangelo

Coming in August 2012

For more information and excerpts from

Lyndsey’s newest LGBT teen novel visit:

http://www.PublishingSyndicate.com

Lyndsey is collecting true LGBT stories for her anthology

My Story is Out

If you are under age 26 and have a personal

LGBT story you would like to share that

could help other teens, go to

http://www.PublishingSyndicate.com/

or

http:www.MyStoryIsOut.com

Table of Contents

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39