The Trouble with Emily Dickinson

by Lyndsey D'Arcangelo

  “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 sh
e 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.”