Without realizing it, Ethan had knocked an elbow against Juniper’s root beer float, sending dark soda sloshing over the edge of the glass. His eyes had been fixed on her face, and his heart was hammering. The cold stares of the townspeople resurfaced in his memory. He imagined them all lining up in front of the malt shop during his shift, murmuring about how he didn’t belong, forcing their way inside, and smothering him with their furious gazes.
“Shoot, sorry.” Ethan shook his head to clear the image and reached for the rag.
“No worries.” Juniper flashed another smile. “You know, one time when I got a float here—”
Ethan tuned her out as he cleaned up the spill, letting her rattle on uninterrupted. Thoughts of being cornered by the townspeople still lingered in his mind, but Juniper clearly didn’t notice. She only paused her chatting to take sips of her drink.
“So, why are you here in Ellison? Is Mr. Shay your only uncle? Are your parents on vacation? Do you like it here? Are you going to stay for the fall? It’s real beautiful in the fall.”
She watched him with doe-like eyes, grinning expectantly. Ethan sighed. “My dad sent me here for the summer, but I can’t wait to split. No offense, Juniper, or Starfish, or whatever, but this place is a killjoy.”
Juniper gasped loudly and suddenly, startling Ethan into a stumble. When he righted himself, her hand was slapped across her mouth in disbelief. “Ethan Harper!” she scolded. “Clearly, you have not experienced the wonders Ellison has to offer. It may be small, but it’s a real gem if you dig deep enough.”
“Gonna take a hell of a lot of digging.” He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he’d already figured he’d never find anything to like about this place. Not with the way he felt whenever he stepped outside.
“Then it’s just your lucky day!” Juniper grinned. “I’ve been looking for a summer sidekick for Lord knows how long, and, well, here you are.”
“Summer sidekick?” Ethan echoed, blinking at her.
“Yes,” she said. “I want to have the most fantastic summer ever. The summer to end all summers.” She spun slowly in her chair, spreading her hands in front of her face as if conjuring an image in the air. “I want this summer to be—to be invincible. But obviously, you know, I need a little help. Everything is better with a friend. So far I haven’t found anyone fit for the job, but you’re perfect. You got a bike? No? Well, we’ll get you one, you’ll definitely need it. My adventures are not for the weak or the bikeless.”
Ethan blinked, staring in disbelief at Juniper as she calmly sipped her float, and tried to decide whether this girl was actually being serious. Her smile was disarming and genuine, but what if she was just teasing him? What if this was the next level of those whispers on the sidewalk? After all, no one in their right mind would actually ask to be called Starfish.
“How long are you gonna stare at me like that before you say yes?” Juniper asked, tilting her head. “Boy, you really don’t talk much.”
“I—” Ethan attempted a response, but his words turned to sludge on his tongue. The surprise, the confusion—the sudden contact with another person after a week of near silence—it was too much to handle.
“Great!” Juniper Jones bounced in her seat, clapping her hands. “Consider us friends, Ethan Charlie Harper. Ethan Charlie Harper,” she repeated to herself. “E-C-H. Ech! Like that sound you make when you try to eat a whole lemon! Have you ever tried to eat a whole lemon? Let me tell you, when they say lemons are sour, they mean it.”
This time Ethan didn’t even bother trying to respond. When Uncle Robert waltzed through the door at two minutes after one, Juniper was still there, swinging her legs against the counter and twirling the straw of her now-empty drink. He smiled at her with a warmth that Ethan hadn’t thought the man was capable of.
“Mr. Shay!” Juniper exclaimed. “How are you?”
“Great, Juniper. Glad to see you.” He crossed behind the counter with a nod to Ethan and disappeared into the back. Ethan, who had returned to reading his comics as Juniper went on a tirade about the injustice of bug torture, glanced up warily.
“How’s your aunt doing, June?” Uncle Robert asked, returning into the main room.
Juniper’s grin wavered for a split second before she replied, “Oh, you know. She’s all right. Speaking of her”—she squinted at the clock on the wall above Ethan’s head—“I’m late for making her lunch! Thank goodness you reminded me.” She leapt off the stool, her gangly limbs askew, and smoothed her yellow dress down the front. “Bye, Mr. Shay. Bye, Ethan Charlie Harper. I’ll see you soon!”
Her final word became a single-note melody as she swept out the door, a tumbling breeze in the stagnant heat. Ethan stared after her, blinking in confusion. He looked at his uncle, who shrugged as he watched the redhead disappear around the corner of the building.
“What can I tell you?” he said. “That’s Juniper Jones.”
Three
It only took a week for the stillness of Aunt Cara’s house—punctuated by the radio shows always playing softly in the background—to become oppressive. Ethan spent hours lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He played record after record, but soon even Ella Fitzgerald’s gentle voice felt like sharp nails on the inside of his skull.
After breakfast on his first Sunday in Ellison, Ethan stood in the center of his room and dreaded the empty day to come. Aunt Cara knocked gently on the door and leaned in.
“Hey, Ethan,” she said. “Your uncle and I are heading out to church.”
Church, of course—however little Ethan knew about his dad’s hometown, he knew how devoutly Christian it was. His dad complained about it occasionally, and now only took the family to Mass on Christmas and Easter. Ethan stared at Aunt Cara blankly, fearing an invitation and yet knowing, somehow, that it wouldn’t come.
“You’ll be okay here by yourself for an hour?”
Ethan nodded, resisting the urge to groan. As Aunt Cara smiled and edged out of his room, he flopped facedown onto his bed, arms spread wide. A few seconds later, he heard two sets of footsteps walking through the living room, then the front door slammed shut.
Ethan rolled onto his side, staring at the stack of comics on his desk. He’d already gone through all of them at least ten times, and even his favorites had begun to bore him. If this was how he felt after a week, he could hardly imagine the state he’d be in at the end of the summer. His dad would pull up in his Mercury on September 1 to find Ethan catatonic in his tiny twin bed, comic books and records strewn about the room. That would show him, Ethan thought, almost managing a laugh.
After half an hour spent knee deep in self-pity, Ethan finally pushed himself to his feet. “I gotta get out of here,” he muttered. So far he’d only been between the malt shop and Aunt Cara’s house, but there were other things to see in town—few enough that he could count them on one hand, but things nonetheless. And besides, the general store might even have a comic or two.