For the next several days, Ethan ignored Aunt Cara as best he could. She tried to push past it at first, giving him extra servings of food at every meal and trying to make conversation with him about his records.
“I like Louis Armstrong too,” she told him at one point. “Great on the trumpet.”
“Cool,” Ethan replied, all the while wondering what made Louis Armstrong, with the brown skin of his cheeks puffed out as he blew into his trumpet, easier to handle than her own nephew.
He tried to focus, instead, on Juniper Jones. Every day at the malt shop he waited in the morning silence, looking up at every sound as if she might come bursting through the door. When Aunt Cara spoke to him and he didn’t respond, it was in part because of his lingering anger but just as much because of his growing excitement for the adventures that lay ahead.
After a few days of one-word responses and uninterested stares from Ethan, Aunt Cara eased back. And by then, Ethan’s anger had begun to subside. It was exhausting, he realized, to put energy into hating his aunt on top of everyone else in this town. He only had so much to go around. So he eased back too, allowing their relationship to return to civility.
If Uncle Robert noticed the tension turned truce, he didn’t mention it. At the end of the week he showed up at the Malt to relieve Ethan from work with an uncomfortable look on his face. After a moment, he cleared his throat. Ethan, who had been watching the door for any sign of Juniper, jumped at the sight of his uncle.
“So,” Uncle Robert said, coming around the counter to join Ethan, “Cara told me what happened. At the store.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“She didn’t mean anything by it. Those women are nasty gossips. What Cara said—it’s just about keeping up appearances.”
This didn’t satisfy Ethan, but he was tired of thinking about the incident. So as Uncle Robert looked at him imploringly, Ethan just nodded. Then, with an awkward frown, Uncle Robert reached into his wallet and pulled out two stained, wrinkled dollar bills.
“Here,” he said, thrusting the bills in Ethan’s direction. In the cramped quarters behind the counter, he couldn’t do much but gingerly take the money from his uncle’s grip. “Just, you know,” Uncle Robert went on. “To apologize. I see you reading those comics all the time. Maybe you could get some more.”
The older man looked so uncomfortable that Ethan softened. “All right, Uncle Robert,” he said. He took off his apron and hung it on the peg next to the blender. “Thanks. I’ll see you.”
It took a long moment of standing at the threshold before Ethan was able to coax himself into the general store. When the bell rang and the door closed behind him, Abrams looked up from the counter in surprise.
“Cara’s nephew,” he said. “Didn’t think I’d see you here again, after last time.”
Ethan shrugged. “Yeah, well.”
Thankfully, Abrams didn’t pry any further as Ethan wandered the aisles—and thankfully, the store really was empty this time. No one else came in as Ethan pulled his items from the shelves, though he still felt tense as he approached the register.
“Quite the meal,” Abrams noted with a smirk as he rang up the items: a bag of chips, a box of Oreos, and a bottle of Coke, still frosty from the cooler. “And quite the read.” He nodded his approval at Ethan’s choice of a Captain America comic.
“All right, son, that will be one dollar and sixty-four cents.” Abrams stuck the bills that Ethan handed him into the drawer and passed back a quarter, a dime, a penny, and a paper bag of his items.
“Thank you.” Ethan nodded at the man, happy to be making it out of the store unscathed. “Have a nice day.”
“And you as well,” Abrams replied. He waited until Ethan’s hand was on the door before adding, “Glad to have you in the store, of course. But for your own sake, I’d try to avoid this place if you can.”
“Right,” Ethan said. He wasn’t planning to frequent the six-aisle general store. “Thanks for the tip.”
Outside, the humidity was stifling. Ethan felt sweat seeping into the handle of the bag as it swung in his grip. Dust stormed around his ankles in small tornadoes, and he coughed when the occasional stray speck tickled his nose. As usual, the dirty clouds remained unsettled.
The sun was relentless, but when he made it out of town, the trees provided some relief. The leaves left crisscrossed shadows on the road, and somewhere in the distance birds called back and forth. Perhaps for the first time since arriving in Ellison, Ethan felt his muscles relax. In moments like this, just him and the trees, he could almost forget where he was.
He was about halfway back to Aunt Cara’s house, lost in thought, when he heard the sudden rustle of branches and nearly jumped out of his skin. A moment later, three kids who were a little older than him emerged from one of the forest paths. The girl, a brunet, lifted her skirt to step over a bush. She linked arms with one of the boys, a tall, stocky blond. The other boy was dark haired and lanky, and he followed the couple with crossed arms and a sharklike grin.
They were evidently in the middle of a conversation, but when they noticed Ethan standing quite conspicuously in the center of the road, they all halted in their tracks. Surprise crossed their faces, but almost immediately, the blond boy’s lips twisted into a sharp leer.
“Well, would you look who it is,” he drawled, dropping the girl’s arm. “The new kid. I’ve heard about you.”
Ethan’s feet itched to sprint away, but he held his ground, gripping the bag tighter in his hand. The boy came closer and looked Ethan up and down. “Anyone ever tell you we don’t like your kind coming round here? Alex, look at this kid.” He beckoned to the other boy, who sauntered over with that predatory smile. Only the girl stood off to the side, staring pointedly away from Ethan, her arms crossed over her chest.
“Hey, blackie,” the blond boy jeered, leaning in toward Ethan’s face. “Why aren’t you saying anything, huh? You scared?”
Ethan swallowed but did not respond. “He’s terrified!” Alex shrieked, and rammed his shoulder into Ethan’s. Shocked, Ethan stumbled back, his heart beating relentlessly against the butterfly bones of his rib cage. He couldn’t respond now even if he wanted to; his anger had stunned him to silence.
When he didn’t react, the blond boy’s face seemed to catch on fire, his cheeks turning red and his eyes flashing. “Say something,” he ordered, shoving both of Ethan’s shoulders with the heels of his hands. “Come on!”
Ethan gritted his teeth. His free hand was a fist at his side, but he thought of Samuel Hill and took a deep breath. He couldn’t lose his cool. Especially not here.
“All right,” the blond said. “All right. Seems like you don’t care about anything, so I guess it won’t rattle your cage if I, say, do this.” His arm shot out, ripping the bag from its handles and out of Ethan’s grip.
“What do we have here?” He pulled out the Oreos as Alex looked on, snickering. “Babe, you want this?” He didn’t wait for the girl to respond before tossing the box over his shoulder. She had to dive forward to catch it before it hit the ground. Ethan glared at her, but she cradled the cookies to her chest with an almost helpless shrug.
Next, the boy’s hand found the potato chips, which he looked at for a long moment before dropping them unceremoniously to the ground and planting his boot in the center of the bag. It exploded, letting out a loud pop and sending shards of chips scattering across the dirt.
Ethan couldn’t help it as he cried out, “Hey!” and reached an arm uselessly toward the ground.
“He speaks!” the blond cried, pulling out the bottle of Coke and handing it to Alex. Alex somehow managed to remove the sealed cap with a gnash of his teeth. He spat it onto the ground and took a long swig.
Finally, the boy pulled out the comic and tossed the empty bag behind him. “Captain America, huh?” He nodded slowly. “Yeah, all right. I’ll take that.” He folded the comic down the middle and shoved it into his back pocket.
Fury clouded Ethan’s vision until the three kids were just a blur in front of him. He thought—wished—that molten lava might stream from his ears and pour down his shoulders and onto the road to consume his tormentors.
“Give that back,” he said, barely hearing his own voice.
“What’s that?” one of them taunted. “What do you want, blackie?”
“Give that back,” Ethan repeated, taking a step toward them. The boys, clearly unbothered, laughed.
“Give that back!” Alex taunted, the Coke sloshing onto his hand.
That was it—Ethan couldn’t let this slide. He made a fist so tight that his nails dug into his palm and pulled back his arm. It was then that a pair of tires squealed to a stop just a few feet from where Ethan stood. When the dust cleared, he saw Juniper Jones, her fiery head framed by the midmorning sun and a hard frown on her thin lips.
“What’s going on here?” she demanded, stepping off her bike and letting it fall to the ground. “Ethan?” She looked at him with his fist pulled back, then back at the others. “Noah O’Neil, what is this?”
“Well, if it isn’t Little Miss Juniper Jones,” the blond boy, Noah, replied. “Or should I say Starfish.”
Alex barked a laugh. The girl, still holding the Oreos, had backed up almost to the tree line.
Juniper crossed her arms over her chest, but her voice remained surprisingly calm. “Don’t be like that, Noah. Come on. Give Ethan back his stuff.”
“Hm.” Noah pretended to think for a moment, rubbing his chin theatrically. “I’m gonna go with . . . no. And of course you’re buddies with the Negro. You make a perfect pair: two people who shoulda never been born.”
Juniper blinked as though she’d been slapped. “Hey,” Ethan said roughly. “Keep the stuff. Whatever. I don’t need it. But get the hell away from us.”
Something in Ethan’s tone must have conveyed his seriousness, because Noah glanced at Alex and the girl. “Whatever,” he snapped. “They aren’t worth it anyway. See you around, blackie. And Starfish. Come on, Courtney.” He grabbed the girl roughly by the arm and seemed not to notice when she stumbled into his side. He pulled her after him as Alex trotted behind.
“And by the way,” Noah added, stopping inches away from Ethan. “I heard about why you were sent down here. What you did to that boy. And maybe up where you’re from folks just get a little mad, but down here we handle things differently.” He smiled darkly, making sure to graze Ethan’s shoulder with his own as he pushed past.
Ethan took in a shaky breath, only exhaling when Juniper said, “They’re gone.” Then he let his shoulders slump, letting himself feel not just anger but also the fear that pulsed beneath it. In Noah O’Neil’s eyes he hadn’t seen a shred of compassion. He felt cold thinking about what those boys might have tried if Juniper hadn’t pulled up just then.
Juniper approached him now, standing a few feet away with her hands wrung together, looking lost. When Ethan turned to her, she forced a wan smile.
“You okay, Ethan Charlie Harper?” she asked.
Ethan licked his lips and mumbled, “Yeah, I guess. Thanks.”
“Sure thing. And I’m sorry about them.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Those guys talk big, but really they’re just big dummies. They’re just saying what they hear other people say.”
“I don’t know.” Ethan shrugged. “Sure seems like they believed it.” To this Juniper said nothing. “Anyway, it’s good to see you,” he said, and meant it. “And not just ’cause you distracted those jerks.”
“Good to see you too,” she said. After a pause, she asked, “And hey, what was Noah saying just then? About why you were sent here? Guess you haven’t told me that yet.”
Ethan could hear the strain in her voice, lingering just behind her usual brightness. He couldn’t look at her.
“I got in a fight,” he said tightly. “With a boy at school. Broke his nose. My dad was real mad.”
Juniper laughed suddenly. “Is that all? Well, boys get into fights all the time. Noah’s been in his fair share.”
Ethan said nothing, remembering the feeling of Samuel Hill’s nose under his fist—and of his cruel words just moments before. The memory froze his tongue, and he could only nod. Juniper, unfazed, smiled brightly again.
“Well, anyway, don’t think I forgot about our adventure, Ethan Charlie Harper! Just you wait, I’ll fix everything. There’s a lot more to this town than Noah O’Neil, and I’ll prove it.” Her energy renewed, she lifted her bike from the ground and climbed onto the seat with a small grin, her skirt draping over the frame. “I have to go make lunch for my aunt, but I’ll see you soon, okay?”
She pedaled off in a cloud of dust, but somehow, it settled in her wake. Ethan watched her go, and just before she disappeared around the bend, he murmured, “See ya, Starfish.”
Then he took a deep breath and trudged on down the path toward home, leaving a pile of crushed potato chips in the dust behind him.