The Trouble with Emily Dickinson (16 page)

“I’ve got issues?” Kyan shot back. “No way.
This girl is crazy. She ditched an invite-only soccer party.” He
turned to Christine. “Who does that?”

The invite-only soccer party was considered
the highlight of the fall semester, aside from winter formal. The
soccer wing was lit up with white lights for extra ambiance. There
were fresh cut roses in vases in every room, and all of the soccer
guys got dressed up in their best attire. For Kyan that meant
wearing black slacks, a dark-blue button-down shirt and a blue and
white striped tie. Apparently, he had gotten all dressed up for
nothing.

“I don’t know where she is,” said Christine,
and she scrolled through her text messages on her iPhone. “She
hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

“How late was that poetry thing supposed to
go?” Kyan pressed.

“Why don’t you go find out,” Jason offered,
impatiently. He was still sitting on the couch, waiting for Kyan to
leave so he could get back to kissing his girlfriend.

“She should be here with me. That’s how this
whole thing was supposed to turn out. I’m the best looking guy on
campus. What gives?”

Christine held up her hands. “I don’t know.
She’s been acting so strange lately. I swear… if she doesn’t come
tonight, she’s going to regret it.”

“I’m going to regret it,” said Kyan. “I
wasted thirty bucks on this tie!”

Jason had heard enough. He stood up. “She’s
probably on her way here right now,” he said, as he nudged Kyan out
of the room.

“Let me try and call her,” said Christine, as
she held up her iPhone. But before she could hit the “send” button,
Jason plucked it from her hands and tossed it on the bed. “Would
you two relax? If she wants to come, she’ll come.” He raised an
eyebrow at Kyan, who finally took the hint.

“I’ll go wait for her on the front steps,”
Kyan said miserably, and closed the door behind him.

Jason turned the light off and resumed his
position next to Christine on the couch. But she clearly was
distracted, and stood up instantly to look out the window.

“If you don’t come tonight, Kendal, I’ll tell
the whole school that you’re a lesbian,” she whispered under her
breath.

“What did you say?” Jason asked.

“Never mind.”

CHAPTER 22

JJ and Kendal left the coffee shop, with
Kendal leading the way across the school campus to the soccer
field. They huddled together, appearing as one shadow instead of
two in the dim street lighting that led their way.

Kendal crept under the bleachers, urging JJ
to follow. And follow she did. They ducked their heads and crouched
along to the opposite end of the bleachers where the scorers’ box
was attached. Perched up high on a platform, the scorers’ box was
supported by tall beams enclosed with a tarp tied around them on
three sides, the side to the bleachers being left open. JJ and
Kendal were able to sneak under the scorers’ box through the
bleachers, and were completely hidden by the tarp. A worn wool
blanket had been shoved in between the metal bars, keeping it off
the grass so that it wouldn’t get wet. Kendal grabbed the blanket,
unfolded and spread it out. In the middle of the blanket, she’d
stuffed a flashlight. She turned it on, illuminating the spot.

“Come here often?” JJ asked, eyeing the
flashlight.

“Until it gets too cold,” Kendal told her. “I
found this spot during my freshman year, in the spring after I had
made the cheerleading squad. Everyone on the team was pulling these
wild and crazy pranks on the new girls. I was so scared every time
I walked across campus.”

She sat down on the blanket and crossed her
legs. JJ sat down beside her.

“Christine told me that they grabbed her
coming out of the library late one night, took her to the soccer
dorm and made her do all of their laundry. She said it was the most
disgusting thing she ever had to do in her entire life. I didn’t
want that happening to me.”

“So you hid here?”

“For practically the entire spring semester
of school.” Kendal sighed, as if she were reminiscing about a
childhood tree house. “I’d come here right after eating at the
dining hall, and after classes to read or do homework. I even slept
out here once or twice.”

“Really? I never imagined you as the type of
girl who could rough it.”

“I’m full of surprises. See, the rule was
that they couldn’t grab us in public places with teachers and
adults around. That included the library, dining hall, and
classroom buildings. They couldn’t keep us from going to class
either. But as soon as we were finished with classes for the day
and walked outside, we were fair game. So, they’d watch us go into
some place, wait until we came out, and grab us. No one ever found
me here.”

“That’s pretty clever,” said JJ.

“This hiding spot was so good, that it got to
the point where they’d all eat with me in the dining hall so that
they could grab me as soon as I walked outside. But that never
worked either. I’d just sit in the dining hall until they left or
I’d exit out the side door. I had all my routes mapped
carefully.”

“I can’t believe you went through all that
just to be a part of the cheerleading squad.”

Kendal waved her hand nonchalantly in the
air. “It was fun at the time,” she said.

“Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”

“Oh, come on,” Kendal argued. “You’re telling
me that you weren’t hazed as a freshman on the basketball
team?”

JJ pondered the question, even though she
already knew the answer. Yes, she’d gone through hazing. Especially
the time she was forced to carry a ball everywhere she went across
campus, and if any of the older players saw her without the ball
then she was forced to do sprints, push-ups and sit-ups on the
spot.

“Okay, you got me there,” JJ admitted. “But
at least it wasn’t so bad that I had to find a hiding spot.”

Kendal glowered at her, and then laughed
because she wasn’t able to keep a straight face.

“You aren’t at all what I thought you were,”
said JJ.

“You keep saying that. I’m hoping it’s a good
thing.”

“Trust me. It is.”

Kendal played with her fingers, a nervous
habit over which she’d little control. “Are we going to talk about
your poem, or what?”

JJ blinked twice, as if she suddenly
remembered the reason why they were there in the first place. She
took out her journal and marked the page that contained the poem.
“How am I supposed to do this again?”

“Stand up over there,” Kendal ordered. “And
read it to me as if you were in class.”

JJ reluctantly stood up and walked about five
feet away. She cleared her throat, opened her mouth wide and said,
“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t—I can’t read it.”

“Why not? You read a couple of lines from
Emily Dickinson out loud when we first met.”

“Yeah, but that was different.”

“Why?”

JJ’s shoulders slumped forward, “Because I
was trying to make a point. I wouldn’t have done that if anyone
else had been around. And that was Dickinson’s poem. It’s twice as
hard reading my own stuff.”

“What is holding you back?”

“I don’t know—the fear of rejection from the
crowd?” JJ knew she sounded like a bratty five-year-old at that
moment, but she didn’t care. “I feel stupid. Can’t we just talk
instead?”

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t know—maybe if I talk for a little
bit, I’ll feel comfortable enough to read this.” JJ pointed to the
poem as she spoke. “I just feel incredibly nervous for some
reason.”

“We can do whatever makes you feel most
comfortable.”

“Good.” JJ gladly rejoined Kendal on the
blanket, relieved to be out of the spotlight.

“Let’s talk about the poem,” Kendal said.

“Why?”

“Well, for starters, what are you so nervous
about? Your writing is good. Are you afraid to share it because
it’s personal?”

“That’s a ridiculous question.”

“How come?”

“Because there’s no getting around that.
Poetry is personal. It has to be, because you’re putting your
emotions out there whenever you write a poem.”

“So how does revealing something personal
make you feel?”

“What are you, my therapist?” JJ snorted.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help here,” Kendal
replied. “It’s obvious you have some insecurity about sharing
something personal about yourself.”

“I do not.”

“Yes, you do.”

“No, I don’t. I’m being honest. That’s not
the problem. It’s not about revealing something personal about
myself. I’m honest and upfront about myself. You know that.”

“Then what is it? Insecurity about your
writing?”

“Bingo,” JJ said, and fell over on her back.
“I’m more afraid of what people are going to think than anything
else.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” Kendal maintained.
“Your writing is amazing. And it can’t be any more difficult than
coming out to people. Even though you maybe had a fear of
rejection, you still did it. Look how comfortable you are with
yourself now.”

“Wow,” said JJ as if a light bulb had just
lit up in her head. “I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s the same principal. Some people may not
respond in the best way, but it sounds like most people in your
life have been supportive. It’s the same with your writing. Some
people may not like it, but I bet most people will.”

“Argh!” JJ hid her face with her hands, and
spoke through her fingers. “I’m never going to be able to do this
by Monday!”

“Yes, you will,” Kendal reassured her. She
reached for JJ’s hands and tugged them from her face. “I believe in
you.”

When JJ looked up, she saw Kendal’s generous
green eyes peering down at her.

It was the simplest of phrases, and yet it
carried so much weight. JJ had never heard anybody, not her coach,
or even her parents, say those words to her before. It confused her
to the core. How could someone who hardly knew her believe in her
so deeply? It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. It was trust
without reason and it didn’t make any sense.

“Why?” JJ asked. “Why do you believe in me?
You don’t even know me that well.”

It was the first time Kendal had seen JJ
without her confident grin, without her carefree attitude or
charismatic charm. JJ was vulnerable, exposed. And it only made
Kendal fall for her even more.

“Why do you believe in me so easily?” JJ
repeated.

“Because I like what I’ve learned about you
so far.” Kendal laid her hand over JJ’s . “And you make it hard not
to.”

CHAPTER 23

Saturday flew by in a blur, as Kendal kept
replaying her night under the scorers’ box with JJ over and over
again. They’d sat there and talked until close to one in the
morning when Kendal’s cell phone rang, startling them both. Kendal
only answered it because she knew it was Christine, wondering where
in the world she was. The call somehow catapulted them both back to
reality.

“I’ve got to get back to the dorm,” Kendal
had said, with regret. She dreaded seeing Christine and the
conversation she knew would ensue. How would she ever be able to
explain why she’d ditched the soccer party to hang out with JJ?

They awkwardly parted ways, neither wanting
to leave or knowing how to end the evening. JJ had offered Kendal a
genuine and heartfelt smile. Kendal took it, and gave JJ one in
return. That was it. That was how the night had ended.

In her imagination Kendal had dared to
picture a different ending. In her version JJ had asked her to stay
a few minutes longer. They nestled gently against each other on the
blanket as Kendal stared longingly into JJ’s baby blue eyes, eyes
that made Kendal weak in the knees if she stared at them long
enough. Kendal’s heart had been racing and she didn’t know whether
she wanted to run, scream or wrap herself around JJ like a snake.
The kiss that followed was unlike anything she’d ever
experienced—the softness of JJ’s lips, the gentleness of her touch.
She’d even dreamt about it the following night. When she realized
that it wasn’t real, and only her imagination, Kendal found herself
pouting.

Pouting? She was actually pouting?

It seemed so absurd, yet Kendal didn’t know
how to explain it. She needed a word, a definition to describe the
feeling, to give it a name so that she could understand it better,
or maybe so she could understand why JJ was making her feel this
way.

That thought alone frightened her deeply. She
felt as if she were losing whatever part of herself she thought she
had control of. And it stuck with her every minute of every hour.
Nothing she did or said could distract her from her thoughts.
Saturday might as well have been a pause, a brief interlude until
she and JJ would meet again.

“I’m waiting,” Christine sang, tapping her
fingernails loudly against a locker. She and Kendal were in the
girls’ locker room at the athletic center, getting ready to walk a
few laps around the track. Kendal had to beg Christine all morning
to talk to her, to let her explain. Christine’s only response was,
“I need to work out. You can come if you want to.”

Working out was not something Kendal enjoyed
and never did on a regular basis. In fact, this was only the second
time she’d ever been in the athletic center since her freshman
year. The first time was during the tour of the campus when she’d
visited, before transferring to Sampson.

“Well—” Christine said, still tapping.

Kendal found the tapping distracting,
irritating, and yet oddly comforting. Once she finished tying her
sneakers, she stood up and stretched.

“Let’s wait until we get to the track,” she
said.

“Fine,” Christine spat. She burst from the
locker room, with Kendal jogging behind her to keep up. It had been
the same when they’d walked from the dorm to the athletic center.
Christine had made sure to walk a step and a half in front of
Kendal so that she didn’t have to talk to her, and probably to make
her suffer.