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 d
o. 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.
The Trouble with Emily Dickinson Page 4
