by Carrie Mac
Outside, it was a glorious day. This made the inside of her house seem all that much worse. At the street, she glanced back. From the outside, you couldn’t tell what horror lay behind the closed doors and drawn curtains. That was because the outside had been her father’s domain. He still came once a week to mow the lawn. Junie didn’t know why, given that he’d otherwise abandoned them to live with That Woman. Guilt, probably. Nonetheless, the house looked good from the street. He’d painted it the year before, and had put in new windows, and the shrubbery along the front was neatly trimmed. He’d planted bulbs when they’d first moved in, when Junie was just a toddler, so the same tulips came up every year. They were in full bloom now, and always made Junie smile. The tulips were her favourite part of the house. It was so sad that they only bloomed for a few weeks of the year.
Her favourite part of the street was the cherry trees. The street was lined with the majestic old ladies, their branches forming a fluffy pink canopy as she walked below. The ones on Junie’s street were a little behind that year, but the ones on Tabitha’s block were in full bloom. She walked down the middle of the quiet street, craning her neck so she could look at the explosion of pink, with bits of the bright blue sky behind.
“Hey!” Tabitha called from her stoop. “Watch out, Junie.”
A van turned the corner at the end of the block. A very familiar van.
“That’s Wade Jaffre’s van!” Junie ran up the sidewalk and clutched Tabitha’s sleeve. “Don’t tell, Tab. Please.”
“But where am I supposed to live?”
“I don’t know. But you can’t live here.”
Mrs. D. joined Junie and Tabitha on the step as Wade pulled to a stop in front of the house.
“I’m guessing you two don’t need a ride to school today?”
“I guess not.” Tabitha glanced sideways at Junie. Wade turned the engine off and opened the door.
“How is he old enough to drive?” Neither Junie nor Tabitha even had a learner’s licence yet, even though Tabitha had just turned sixteen.
“He’s in grade eleven,” Junie and Tabitha said at the same time. Junie punched her, and then all of a sudden felt incredibly immature.
“And you know him how?”
“Junie is in grade eleven World Studies and Biology with him,” Tabitha offered. “They were short AP teachers this year, so they put her up one year after she did those online courses in the summer, remember?”
“Oh, no!” Junie smacked her head and groaned. This called for a convincing, lightning-fast story. “Mrs. D., he thinks you’re my mom—”
“Sometimes I think I am too.”
“And he thinks I live here—”
“Sometimes I think you do too—”
“Please, just listen!” It came out more sharply than Junie intended, but Mrs. D. was paying attention now. Junie had never spoken to her like that. “I told him that I live here, because of the whole awful scene with my parents yesterday and how I couldn’t bear to be related to either of them. So now I’m related to you. Okay? I’m sorry, it was stupid, I wasn’t thinking, forgive me, but please, please, please just play along, okay? Please, please, please?”
Mrs. D. glanced at her real daughter. “And you’re okay with this?”
“Parts of it.” Tabitha caught Junie’s pleading look and gave in. “All right, all right.”
That, right there, was one of the biggest reasons why Junie loved Tabitha. She knew how to be the world’s most excellent best friend. Even willing to give up her own mother for the sake of the greater good! Or share her, at least.
“All right.” Mrs. D. straightened her blouse. “But for the record, I don’t like lying. And I don’t condone it, either. And neither should Tabitha.”
“I don’t!”
“Later,” Junie said through her teeth as Wade approached with a great big smile.
“Morning, ladies.”
“Good morning,” Mrs. D. said, while Junie and Tabitha gawped silently at him. “I’m the mother,” she added, with a pointed glance in Junie’s direction.
“Wade Jaffre.” He extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“You can call me Georgia.” This cost Junie another knowing glance in her direction. Of course he couldn’t call her Mrs. D.—he knew that Junie’s last name was Rawley. But Mrs. D. was smart. And quick. “And who are you in the larger context of the world, Wade?”
“I, uh . . .” Clearly caught off guard by one of Mrs. D.’s Bigger Picture questions, he took a second or two to come up with an answer. Tabitha and Junie were used to these questions, but they could be quite the challenge for the uninitiated. “Let me think. Student, thinker, friend . . . Son of Raj and Miriam Jaffre, who are in Darfur with Doctors Without Borders, grandson of Gurpreet Jaffre, civil rights activist in India, fighting against the caste system, and grandson of Mikhail and Gena Fuller, both psychology professors at MIT.”
Leave it to Wade Jaffre to blow that one out of the water. June felt her knees weaken.
“I had no idea your parents were doctors,” Junie said when she was able to speak. “Let alone volunteering in Darfur.”
“They’re coming back in four months.”
“You’re not by yourself, are you?” Mrs. D. gave him a concerned look.
“No.” Wade picked up both Tabitha’s and Junie’s backpacks, which had been slouched against the railing. He slung one on each shoulder. “I’m living with my brother. He’s a fourth-year med student.”
Not only hadn’t Junie known anything about his parents, but she hadn’t known this, either. How could he be so exotic and cool and not brag about it all over school? If she’d had anything to brag about, be damned sure she’d have been crowing it from every possible perch. She gave Tabitha a look, eyebrows raised. Tabitha gave her head a little shake in reply, her astonished expression confirming that all of this was news to her, too.
How cool, to be living with your brilliant older brother, temporarily parentless because your equally brilliant parents were overseas doing their best to save the world? Never mind having a crush on him . . . Junie practically wanted to be him.
“Well . . .” Mrs. D. was clearly as smitten with him as Junie and Tabitha were. She normally had a lot more to say at this point in any conversation. “Very nice to meet you, Wade. It certainly sounds as though you are quite the young man.”
“We should go.” Tabitha cut her mother off before Mrs. D. could embarrass them further. Now Junie could see how she herself had ended up saying okey-dokey to him. He had a way of making otherwise fairly intelligent people say rather stupid things.
“You come from exceptional stock,” Mrs. D. continued, oblivious to Tabitha’s warning. “I’m eager to see what you will make of yourself, young man.”
And just like that, it had become another okey-dokey moment. Young man? Twice? Even Mrs. D. had spiralled down from savvy, hip mom to dotty auntie in one minute flat.
“And what are your plans after you finish high school?” she asked.
“I’m going to go to film school.” Suitably cool. “I want to be a documentary filmmaker. I’m hoping my first movie will be about my parents. I want to follow them for a year on one of their overseas trips. Document that. They’re okay with it. It took them about five minutes to mourn the fact that I didn’t want to be a doctor like them and my brother. Now they’re into it.”
Junie, Tabitha and Mrs. D. all practically swooned. How very cool was that? They all gazed adoringly at Wade for a long, sighful moment. He was lovely. Dreamy, smart and so handsome. Junie, for one, wanted to reach out and touch his muscular brown arm. And after that she’d have liked to lean on tippy-toe and kiss him on the lips—
“So, ladies . . .” Wade blushed. He must have been used to this, girls and women fawning over him on a regular basis. “I dropped by to see if Junie wanted a ride.” He gave Junie an absolutely delicious smile. “So, do you and your sister-in-arms want a lift to school? Because if you do, we should get going.”
> “Of course.” Mrs. D. was the first to recover. She kissed Tabitha on the cheek, then realized her blunder and kissed Junie, too. “Off you go, girls.”
“Bye, Mom,” Tabitha said, still stunned. Then she realized her own screw-up. “I call her that all the time,” she said to Wade with a shrill little laugh. “She’s like a mother to me, too.”
“See you later,” Junie said as she pulled Tabitha down the steps. “We’re going to be late, Tab.” She wanted her out of there before she ruined her messy little lie. “Let’s go.”
Junie sat in the front because Tabitha—bless her heart—scooted into the back before Junie could. No one said anything for the first few moments, which felt awkward. But then it got even more awkward, because when they passed Junie’s real house, Wade made a comment about Mr. and Mrs. Rawley’s little scene.
“Did you tell Tabitha about that man and woman going at each other in their driveway?”
Of course Junie had. “Yeah.” Junie was pretty sure that she was, at that very moment, shrivelling into a pile of dried-up humiliation.
“Crazy.” Wade glanced in the rear-view mirror. “Both of them yelling at each other like that? In broad daylight? And it was like Jack Sprat, you know? ‘Jack Sprat could eat no fat, his wife could eat no lean . . .’ He was super-skinny and she was super-fat and she was shaking her finger at him, yelling, and all the while her arm fat was wobbling so hard I thought it was going to throw her off balance. And it was all that much more bizarre because the street is so super-normal and tidy, like they were deviating from some kind of social code, you know? A very filmable moment. Very American Beauty.”
He’d got all that, in the few seconds it took to drive by? With that kind of attention to detail, he really would be a very brilliant filmmaker someday. Junie was as impressed as she was mortified. And she’d never heard of American Beauty, which just made her feel stupid.
Tabitha said nothing. Junie turned to look at her.
Say something, she mouthed silently.
What am I supposed to say? Tabitha mouthed back, shrugging.
Tabitha had never bad-mouthed Junie’s mother. Not once. So why would Junie expect her to now? Because of the unique and painful situation, that was why. Junie stared at her, pleading silently for her to bend her morals just this once. Tabitha stared back. That girl did not have a mean bone in her body, Junie marvelled, annoyed. Usually she loved that about Tabitha. No judgment. No belittling. But right then, it would have been helpful if Tabitha could have tapped into her inner bitch for just one eensy minute to play along. If she even had an inner bitch. Tabitha shook her head, wordlessly resolute. Junie turned back to the front. If Tabitha wasn’t going to say anything, then Junie would have to.
“It was kind of funny.” Junie choked out the words. “I guess.”
“It wasn’t ‘kind of’ funny,” Wade said. “It was very funny. One of those moments I wish I could’ve caught on film, you know?”
Junie held her breath. She knew that this would make Tabitha mad. She took after her mother that way, always rooting for the underdog. Never making fun of anyone. Always being the advocate. The champion. Junie turned, ready to silently implore her just to play along, but Tabitha would not be stopped.
“I don’t think it’s particularly funny at all,” she said, glaring pointedly at Junie. “I know them. They’re going through a rough time. And there’s a kid involved. A friend of mine. So I don’t think it’s funny at all. And definitely not something I’d want to see preserved forever on film by you, to do with whatever you want. No thank you.”
Awkward silence descended upon the van like an invisible villain. Tabitha was waiting for Junie to agree with her, and for Wade to apologize. He went first.
“Sorry.” He raised his eyes to the rear-view mirror again, this time smiling. “I am sorry. Mea culpa.”
“Mea culpa is right,” Tabitha continued, while Junie stayed mute. “It’s not cool to make fun of people who are going through a hard time.”
“You are absolutely right.” Wade placed a hand on his chest and bowed his head. “I am sorry. I didn’t know.”
“You shouldn’t have to know. You should just not make assumptions in the first place. You have no idea who they are or what they’re going through. What do you know about any of it? Nothing. That’s what you know.”
“I’m sorry,” Wade repeated. “You’re absolutely right. I, Wade Jaffre, am a complete and utter asshole.” Junie could hear the easy tone in his words, as though he was making fun of himself.
Was he being sincere? Or just saying that to appease Tabitha? And if he was just apologizing for her sake, was that because he was trying to impress her in the first place, and now that it had backfired he was backpedalling to get back into her good books? Or was he apologizing because he really meant it? Tabitha interrupted Junie’s bout of overthinking, which was a good thing, because Junie knew she should care more about the insult to her parents than whether Wade liked her or Tabitha better.
“Junie?” Tabitha glared at her. Waiting for her to come clean and admit that Jack Sprat and his big fat wife were her parents. End the lie. But no way. Not a chance. Junie wasn’t going to give up that easily. “We know them, Junie. You’re better than that.”
Ouch. A punch right into the solar plexus of Junie’s guilt. She had to catch her breath before she could respond. Tabitha was worse than a parent when it came to guilt trips.
Junie thought hard about what she would say next. She could hear her father’s voice advising her: Think before you speak. And she was. Thinking hard. Thinking hard about how she could come clean. How she should come clean. How this was the moment, the perfect time to do it. How she could try to work it to be funny. How once she’d told the truth, everything would get easier.
“It was kind of funny,” Junie finally said, forcing the words out. She’d thought hard, and still she’d come up with something she immediately regretted.
And so the moment passed. She looked over her shoulder, as if she were actually watching the opportunity to tell the truth slip behind her, a shimmering wake, dissolving.
FOUR
Tabitha said nothing for the rest of the ride. Junie could feel her glare of disappointment drilling into her from the back seat. She didn’t even have to look back to know that Tabitha was sitting ramrod straight with her arms crossed and her chin jutted out like a pissed off six-year-old. Or a pissed off sixteen-year-old.
Wade and Junie talked about the bottle drive, or he did mostly. Junie responded with appropriate one- or two-word answers while all the while she was wishing he hadn’t driven by her parents’ house in the first place. She’d have given up her ride home with him if it meant she could erase what had happened along the way. She wished he’d never pulled up beside her. Or she tried to wish that.
“So the money is going to Darfur,” he was saying when Junie broke out of her thoughts. “Not because my parents are there. Well, sort of, I guess, if I’m being honest. But more because it’s the cause we decided to support.”
“Right.” Why had he stopped in the first place? What did he really want with her? Or Tab?
“And the teachers’ union is going to match whatever we make, so it’s double what we can get out of the bottle drive.”
“Cool.” Junie glanced back at Tabitha. Still with the glare. Tabitha added a cocked eyebrow for good measure. Junie returned her fractured attention to her so-called conversation. Wade didn’t seem to notice her lack of attention. He just kept talking.
“You wouldn’t believe what we went through to make that happen. Apparently, the teachers’ union never does that.”
“Really.”
It was Tabitha’s fault that Junie couldn’t talk to Wade like a real, functioning person would. Her glare was so loud that it drowned out everything else. Junie could hardly hear what Wade was saying because of the pounding disapproval coming from the back seat.
When they got to the school, Tabitha slammed out of the van and waited un
til after Wade said goodbye and went ahead of them into the building before she turned on Junie.
“How could you?”
“You know exactly how.” Junie hitched her backpack up on one shoulder and started walking. “You, out of everyone in the whole world, know how.”
“Come on, Junie.” Tabitha caught up to her. “Your own parents?”
“Exactly.”
“You can’t just let him go on thinking that you don’t know them, that they’re not your very own mother and father.”
“I don’t need a reminder of that fact, thank you.” Junie had Art first period, and Tabitha had Physics, so this couldn’t go on forever, thankfully.
“Apparently you do. You’ve got one mother and one father and you just betrayed them both. What have they ever done to you?”
Junie stopped in her tracks and stared at her best friend in disbelief. “Seriously?”
Tabitha gave her head a little shake. “Sorry. Okay. Not fair.”
“Thank you.”
And then the bell rang. As Junie headed for Art, she heard Tabitha call after her. “We’re not done with this, Juniper Rawley.”
Junie turned. “You sound like my mother.”
“There are worse things!” Tabitha added for good measure.
But were there? Her mother was definitely one of the Worst Things right now. She hadn’t always been this bad. Junie remembered when she was little, and her mother would make cupcakes for her whole class on her birthday, and come along on field trips, and help out in her classroom on special days. Sure, it seemed like it cost her way more effort than the average mom, but she did it anyway. She’d make costumes for the school plays and come to all her soccer practices and take her out to lunch for a special mother-daughter day at least once a month. But even while she was busy being Supermom on the outside, everything was piling up at home. Even then. And it had slowly got worse, year by year. And her mother had got fatter, year by year, as if her weight reflected the sheer mass she’d hoarded and collected and squirrelled away since Junie was little. There were pictures from back then, ones where the rooms looked almost normal on Christmas Day or Junie’s first few birthdays. The house was cluttered, but in a warm, homey kind of way. Not like now. By the time her fifth birthday rolled around, the house was bad enough that her mother booked the community room at the nearby library and held the party there. Junie had not had a birthday party at home since. After fourth grade, she didn’t have a party at all. Just her and Tabitha at Tabitha’s house, with pizza and cake and more than a couple of presents from Mrs. D. to make up for the sad state of affairs.
