The Trouble with Emily Dickinson (6 page)

“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.

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 effects 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.”