The Trouble with Emily Dickinson

by Lyndsey D'Arcangelo

  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 e
ffects 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.”