Juniper raised an eyebrow in bemusement. “I’m ambidextrous,” she said, “I could paint with just one hand, but this is much faster. And anyway, having to choose one or the other? What fun would that be?”
Ethan shook his head.
“Shh,” she hissed, waving her left hand and sending blue paint splattering toward the trees. “Art is happening.”
It wasn’t long before not only the trees, but also the grass, the dirt, and Juniper’s face were splattered in flecks of every color of the rainbow. But she didn’t seem the slightest bit aware of the mess she was making; every part of her was solely focused on the canvas in front of her. She didn’t even seem to breathe. Ethan couldn’t look away.
Ethan thought he was watching the entire time but found himself opening his eyes a while later to a darkening forest and Juniper, kneeling patiently in front of him. He blinked up at her, ethereal in the evening light, and wondered how he had ended up befriending someone like her.
“Wanna see it?” she asked, pointing at the canvas beside her.
“Yes,” Ethan said, sitting up. “Of course.”
She held out the canvas in front of her, and Ethan leaned close. He recognized the scene immediately. It was the clearing where they lay—the soft green grass, the brook, the hollow trees. Inside the largest hollow, he could just make out two tiny winged figures, floating in the darkness.
“That’s us,” Juniper said. “But as fairies.”
Ethan nodded. He thought the painting was beautiful. It was chaotic, sure, and kind of messy—but the colors seemed to explode off the canvas, and everything was captured in just the right shade.
“It’s incredible,” he said.
“You really think so?”
“Really.”
She beamed at him. There was still paint on her face, glowing in the dusky light.
“I think your freckles turned green,” he said, squinting. Frowning, Juniper put a finger to her forehead, wiped off an especially large glob of paint, and smeared it on his nose.
“I think your nose has turned green too,” she said seriously.
They stared at each other for a moment with straight faces, then burst into laughter.
“All right, nerd, it’s almost eight.” She held out a hand. “We should probably get going.” She pushed herself to her feet and held out a hand to help Ethan onto his. “Hurry up, slowpoke!” She leapt over the quiet creek, humming the tune of some Elvis Presley song and dancing wildly in circles. On her way out, she paused to lay the painting gently inside a small hollow. Her feet were still bare and caked in grime.
Ethan sighed as he clambered slowly to his feet, wishing, suddenly, that they could just stay in this little forest sanctuary forever. The town was out there, somewhere, and in it, Noah and his friends, and the whispering townspeople—and somewhere else, far away, Arcadia, Washington, his family, and home. But here was Juniper Jones, in her muddy skirt, wearing paint on her cheeks like a badge of honor and spinning through the grass with her arms wide enough to embrace the moon. Ethan thought that if the world were to disappear at that very moment, and this was the last sight that he ever saw, he wouldn’t mind at all.
July 1955
Ten
It was the Fourth of July, and the lake was as full as Ethan had ever seen it. Picnic tables hauled in just for the occasion dotted the grass to the edge of the forest, side by side with dozens of colorful blankets. People milled about in swimsuits and sun hats, drinks and American flags in hand. The greasy scent of hamburgers and hot dogs hung over the makeshift park—Ethan thought that for the first time, it smelled a little bit like home.
The barbecue was already in full swing by the time Ethan arrived with Aunt Cara and Uncle Robert, lugging two ice chests filled with the ingredients for root beer floats. This was a town tradition. All the town businesses contributed something: drinks from the Malt, food from the general store, tables from a logger who lived at the edge of town—and of course, fireworks, courtesy of Gus. That was the best part, according to Juniper: when Gus took his motorboat out to the middle of the lake and set the sky on fire.
“Over here, Ethan,” Uncle Robert called, dipping his head toward the boathouse, where Abrams was standing in front of a gigantic grill flipping dozens of burgers. Ethan grunted, hefting the chests in his grip and teetering after his uncle.
“Careful, sweetie,” Aunt Cara implored, hurrying at his heels. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.
Abrams looked up as Ethan approached and set the coolers in the grass. Uncle Robert was already a few yards away, dragging a table toward them, and did not notice the bearded man’s gaze.
“You’re got some real nerve, kid,” he said. “Coming out here with the whole town to watch you. You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that you’re the only colored person on the whole beach.”
“I realize,” Ethan said coolly. “Thanks, Abrams.”
The man shrugged and turned back to his grill. The truth was Ethan had been dreading this day ever since his aunt and uncle had informed him of the occasion. Nothing sounded worse to him than putting himself in full view of the entire town—all of their stares on him at once. His only relief was that Juniper was coming, and he was already itching to find her.
“Ethan, give me a hand, would you?” Uncle Robert was still by the table, struggling to pull it closer to the bench.
Together, the pair of them managed to wiggle the bench closer to the rest of the food and unload the materials for the first round of drinks. Uncle Robert scooped and Ethan poured, and it wasn’t long before they had a table full of ice cream sodas.
Uncle Robert looked up for Aunt Cara, only to find that she had wandered off. “Don’t know where that woman’s off to,” he muttered, “but if we don’t start passing these out soon, the ice cream will melt.” He turned and started loading the glasses onto circular black trays. “Would you mind, Ethan? Just, you know, try to keep your distance from the O’Neil boy.”
Ethan balked at the thought of running into Noah as he wound his way through the crowd, and Uncle Robert seemed almost embarrassed to be asking. Still, he forced himself to nod. A moment later, he had a tray in each hand and was stepping straight into the chaos.
A local teenage band was playing on a makeshift stage of wooden planks, all lazy guitar strings and voices that cracked on the high notes. People swayed as they walked without even realizing it. Ethan thought he would hand out a drink to anyone who looked his way, but everyone seemed too preoccupied with the music or looked quickly away the moment they caught his eye. He noticed that wherever he walked, there was a gap between him and everyone else in all directions.
It was only through surprise that Ethan managed to rid himself of one tray, sneaking up on one person or another so that they took a float before they had time to think about it. Now he was down to four glasses, and the ice cream was melting fast. As the sweat began to pool at the collar of his shirt, he thought he might just down them all himself. Just as he was considering how sick four root beer floats would make him, a voice stopped him near the water’s edge.
“Ethan Harper,” Noah said. “Actually doing your job today, I see.”
Ethan felt his blood chill. He hadn’t seen Noah since that terrible day at the Malt, and after spending so much time planning with Juniper, he’d almost been able to forget the boy existed. He clutched the tray tighter and tried to convince himself that here, with all these people around, Noah wouldn’t try anything.
“Noah,” Ethan replied curtly, turning to face the other boy. Here, only a foot away, he could see Noah’s face up close—the close-set brown eyes, the acne on his forehead, the blond wisps of hair beginning to grow on his upper lip. As he watched, Noah’s lips twisted into a sneer.
“I want one of those,” Noah said, nodding at the floats. “And so does my family. My mom and dad and little brother. Why don�
�t you come and serve us?”
Ethan fought the urge to tip the tray of floats right into the lake, but managed to steady himself. He bit his tongue and followed in angry silence.
“You know, Ethan,” Noah said as they made their way through the throng of people. “I think we could’ve been real good friends. If it wasn’t for the whole”—he pointed to the skin of his cheek—“you know.”
“There’s nothing about you that would make me want to be your friend,” Ethan muttered.
“What did you say?” Noah demanded, whirling. The look on his face was cruel, just as it had been before he’d knocked those milk shakes over.
Ethan gritted his teeth. “Nothing.”
“Whatever,” Noah said, turning back around. A few paces later, he stopped suddenly and nodded to a group of people seated around a picnic table. “Anyway, that’s my family. You behave now. They like it when the help has manners.”
Ethan fumed silently as he trailed Noah to a picnic table, where a fair-haired family sat eating hamburgers. A man, a woman, and an angelic little boy. When they turned around, Ethan realized that this was the same family he had encountered on that first day of work at the Malt—the same woman who had bemoaned his presence to Aunt Cara in the general store. And now, too, they were staring him in disgust.
“Noah, honey,” the woman said, her voice nasal. “What is this boy doing here?”
“Root beer floats,” Ethan said quickly, before Noah could interject. “I thought you could use a few.”
The man’s eyes turned stormy, and he narrowed them in Ethan’s direction. “Where are your manners, boy?” he demanded. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to speak unless spoken to?”
“Our Noah has fantastic manners,” Mrs. O’Neil announced proudly, then glanced at her younger son, who was ripping pieces of bread from his hamburger bun and tossing them to the ground. “And Daniel, well . . . he’s learning. Don’t do that, sweetie, come on now.”
“Root beer floats,” Ethan repeated miserably.
Noah barked a cruel laugh. “Mom, Dad, come on,” he addressed, lifting his hands as if to placate his parents. “The boy barely knows what he’s doing. Let’s just take these floats.”
Ethan’s stomach twisted as the O’Neils nodded and he realized that in this family, it was Noah who had control. They all reached up to grab a drink when he gestured, then turned back to their food when he told them they’d looked long enough.
“Well, Ethan Harper.” Noah reached over and plucked his own float off the tray. “Great to see you, really. Happy to know you can actually do your job.”
Ethan didn’t miss the icy note behind Noah’s feigned cheerfulness, the way his eyes were dark and hard. Still, he clutched the now-empty tray a little tighter and stood his ground.
“Sure, Noah,” Ethan said. “And try not to spill your drink this time.” The words out, he turned and hurried away before Noah could respond. Fear pulsed in his stomach at the thought of the older boy coming after him, but when he finally dared to turn around, all he saw was the crowd milling about.
He couldn’t tell what was scarier—facing Noah up close or in a sea of people who looked just like him. Here, Noah had acted with restraint but seemed to be only barely hanging on to that forced civility, as if any wrong move from Ethan could send him flying into a rage. But for now, at least, Noah was gone, and by the time Ethan returned to Uncle Robert, his heart rate had lowered to a manageable pace.
“There you are,” his uncle said briskly. “Pass these out too, and hurry. We don’t have all day.”
Ethan heaved a resigned sigh and nodded, turning back to face the crowd. “Aye-aye, Captain,” he muttered to no one.
It seemed as if hours had passed before Ethan finally found Juniper Jones. Or rather, before she found him. He had just handed his last float to an old woman reclining on a beach chair when something red, white, and blue rammed into him from behind and jumped onto his back. He looked up, and her curls fell into his face.
“Hey!” she cried, jumping back onto the grass. “Happy Independence Day!”
Ethan managed a smile for the first time that day, raising his eyebrows as he took in Juniper’s patriotic attire. “Happy Independence Day.” It felt strange to say; even as he relaxed in Juniper’s presence, he felt a tenseness in his shoulders. Independence Day, sure—but with so many townspeople around him and Noah O’Neil not far away, he hardly felt free. He envied the ease with which Juniper sashayed across the grass, completely unconcerned about the space she filled.
“Ask me about my dress,” she said, swishing her skirt.
“What about your dress?”
Juniper grinned. “I’m so glad you asked. I’ve been running around all day, trying to get everyone to ask, but they just keep giving me funny looks.” She twirled in a circle, showing off the dress that was, essentially, an entire American flag. The bodice was navy blue and dotted with stars, and the skirt was thick candy-cane stripes. Her lips, ruby red, clashed wonderfully with her hair.
“No idea why,” Ethan said. “You’re stylish as can be.”
“Oh, put a sock in it.” Juniper rolled her eyes. “Can you please just admire my dress? I made it myself. There are forty-eight stars on the whole thing, you know. Here, count!” She spun in circles, too fast for Ethan to even register the stars, before he stopped her.
“Okay, enough!” he cried. “So, what, you’re the American flag?”
Juniper shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m Betsy Ross after she accidentally sewed herself into her own flag.”
Ethan burst into laughter. Juniper looked so proud of herself, her chin jutting out smugly, that he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that in Betsy’s time there were a good thirty-five fewer stars on that flag.
“All right, Ms. Ross,” he conceded. “What do you say we go get some floats of our own before they’re all gone?”
“That sounds just dandy,” she replied, curtsying. “And also some hot dogs. I would quite enjoy a hot dog.”
Ten minutes later, the pair sat on a picnic blanket by the water’s edge, away from the celebratory commotion. Two root beer floats and a plateful of hot dogs sat on the blanket between them. Juniper had drowned hers in ketchup and mustard.
“The thing about hot dogs,” she said, her mouth full, “is that they’re the best food in the whole wide world. You can have them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you can add extra flavor to them, and you don’t even need a fork and knife to eat them.”
Ethan watched her in amusement as she stuffed the rest of the hot dog into her mouth and licked some stray ketchup off her lips. He was only halfway through his first one, and she was just about to get started on her third.
“Someone’s hungry,” he commented.
Juniper nodded vigorously as she slathered mustard on the bun. “When it comes to hot dogs, I am always hungry.”
Uncle Robert came over just then, finally finished with ice cream-soda delivery. There was a hamburger in his hands. “How are you doing, Juniper?” he asked, offering up a rare smile.
“Mr. Shay!” She dropped her hot dog onto the blanket and leapt to her feet, darting over to squeeze Ethan’s uncle in a tight embrace. “Happy Independence Day!”
“Same to you. You sure are looking patriotic today.”
Juniper twirled proudly in a circle, her skirt billowing out around her. “She’s Betsy Ross after she accidentally sewed herself into her own flag,” Ethan explained, rolling his eyes. His uncle laughed.
“Junie, there’s just no end to your ideas,” he said affectionately. “All right, well, you kids have fun. I’ll see you around here later today.” He turned, then paused for a moment and looked over his shoulder, his eyes suddenly serious. “And be careful, please,” he added. “A lot of people out today.”
Juniper and Ethan shared a solemn glance as Uncle Robert walked away,
but neither acknowledged the warning. Silently, Juniper returned to her place next to Ethan and ate two more entire hot dogs before she declared that she felt full.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Ethan said, swallowing the last bite of his third and final hot dog.
Juniper grinned. “I’m like an elephant!” she cried. “They eat a ton. Did you know that’s because they don’t have stomachs, only intestines? They eat and eat and the food just goes right through them.” She stuck an arm out next to her nose and waved it around like a trunk.
“Juniper Starfish Elephant Jones,” Ethan said.
“It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Before Ethan could respond, she turned and yelled, “Hey!” as she suddenly grabbed Ethan’s arm. “They’re starting a dance floor over where the stage is! Come on, Ethan, we absolutely have to go dance, this band is so good.”
Ethan thought that for all their enthusiasm, the band was crap—still, he didn’t protest as Juniper grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the edge of the dance floor.
“Do you know the Charleston?” Juniper asked over the din of guitar strums. Ethan shook his head. “Me neither! In fact, I’m not really sure what dances I do know. I just throw my arms around and hope for the best. Like this.”
Ethan leaned back as she closed her eyes and flailed wildly to a rhythm just a few beats off from the music.
“Ethan, dance with me!” she shrilled, grabbing him by the wrist.
“No, I really don’t—” he attempted, but she was already twirling him around.
“Don’t fight the music,” she scolded, then, “I love this song!” as the band launched into a cover of “Rock Around the Clock” that was slightly out of tune.
As uncomfortable as he felt, Ethan focused on Juniper, her cheeks bright red as she shuffled back and forth in the muddy grass, and tried to copy her wild routine. When she lifted an arm, so did he. When she did what seemed to be some variant of the hokey pokey, he hopped in a circle on one foot and tried not to fall over. She couldn’t dance any better than he could, and though the couples around them clearly had more experience, he began to feel more at ease. On the crowded dance floor, in the middle of all the noise and chaos, people didn’t seem to notice him. For the first time in Ellison, at his most conspicuous, Ethan felt blissfully invisible.
The Invincible Summer of Juniper Jones Page 10
