August descended on Ellison in a series of sweltering days, where the air sat heavy and people slowed to glacial paces. But for Ethan and Juniper, there was no change in speed. Every day after Ethan’s shift ended, Juniper would ride up to the Malt on her bike and Ethan would practically throw off his apron as he ran out the door, ready for their next adventure.
One day, they made kites out of fallen sticks and old newspapers. They only stayed airborne for about five minutes, but the paper airplanes they made from the leftover scraps had some serious flight power. Another day, they borrowed yarn from Aunt Cara and tried to learn how to knit, ending up with a tangled mess of knots and loops. Juniper taught Ethan how to row a boat, and Ethan taught Juniper how to sprint a hundred meters. They both taught each other the words to their favorite songs.
It was quickly occurring to both of them, though they didn’t voice it, that Ethan was leaving very soon. In a month he would be loading his record collection back into his dad’s Mercury for the 2,500 miles back to Arcadia. For Ethan, this was at once relieving and incredibly sad. He’d been looking forward to going home all summer—now, home felt as foreign to him as Ellison had when he’d first arrived. He wasn’t sure how to go back to his friends, to school, to track practice, or to his job at the burger joint, pretending as if nothing had changed.
He said this to Juniper one day, biking alongside the lake, and she looked at him strangely. “But a lot has changed,” she said, slowing her pedaling. “Why do you have to pretend like it hasn’t?”
“Because,” Ethan began, then trailed off. It didn’t matter why, because he couldn’t go back to the way things were. Whatever his normal had been—if it had ever been—it had been irreparably altered. “It’ll just be hard, is all,” he said eventually.
Juniper braked, dropping her foot in the middle of the path. Ethan stopped a few feet ahead. “I know it will be,” she said, when he looked back at her. “But easier than all of this, right?” She swept her hand in an arc above her head. Ethan nodded. “And anyway,” she added, “I’ll still be there for you. Well, not actually, but we could talk on the phone! I don’t have a phone, but I’ll bet Mr. and Mrs. Shay would let me borrow theirs. Oh, and we could write each other letters! Wouldn’t that just be the coolest thing? Pen pals!”
Ethan laughed as Juniper leapt gleefully back onto her pedals and coasted a few feet down the path. He remembered what his mom had said, about keeping Juniper close. He intended to—he’d never met anyone quite like her and didn’t think he ever would again.
As four more weeks in Ellison turned to three, Ethan noticed his feelings begin to shift, ever so slightly. He’d noticed it before, in passing—brief moments where the sunlight would catch Juniper’s hair so that it looked like fire, and he’d feel his stomach flip. Thinking back, it had probably been building for a while, maybe even since the first day she walked through the malt shop doors. And Ethan was filled, suddenly, with so much fondness for Juniper Jones that he felt compelled to show it to her, somehow. All summer, she had orchestrated their adventures. Now, he decided, it was his turn.
Which was how Ethan found himself biking through the forest just after sunrise that next Sunday morning, a backpack slung over his shoulder, trying to remember the way to Juniper’s house. Every push of his pedals sent him deeper into the morning heat—he felt the air like a blanket across his skin, and the dust from the road mingled with the sweat on his cheeks. His handlebars were slick in his grip. But he’d come to love the feeling of pushing through soupy air and feeling his breath hot in his lungs. It felt like the forest was holding him in a sticky embrace.
The forest paths were more familiar now, but every turn was still a guess. It was by luck alone that he eventually found the slim pathway up to Juniper’s house. He slowed his bike, remembering the uneven ground. The trees rustled overhead, and a bird let out a wake-up call as he made his way down the path at a leisurely pace.
Somewhere between the main road and the house, he saw the sunflowers. He wondered, briefly, if Juniper had planted them in that small clearing between the trees because she knew that one day Ethan would look over and find them. He thought of the day she had shown up at the Malt with an apology sunflower. This, maybe, was the right occasion to reciprocate.
He dropped his bike and padded over soft grass to where the sunflowers stood, their leaves grazing the top of his head. With careful, determined fists, Ethan plucked out three flowers, leaving half their stems bowing toward the earth. Riding his bike was even more difficult now with the flowers in his hand. He squeezed them underneath his arm, wincing every time the wheels hit a dip in the road. Thankfully, Juniper’s house came into view within a few moments, just as magical and forlorn as he remembered it. Standing outside, taking in the garden and the picket fence and the worn white walls, it looked like a castle in a fairy tale.
Ethan left his bike leaning against the picket fence, just like last time, and laid his backpack down beside it. He stepped into the garden, bouquet in hand. The smells of roses, daisies, and daffodils filled his nose—he was torn between sneezing and breathing in more. On the porch, Juniper’s bonsai tree greeted him from its tiny pot. He knocked on the door and waited. Several seconds, and nothing. He knocked again. And again. Finally, there was a loud pounding on the stairs and the call of, “Hold your horses, I’m coming!” A moment later the door flew open, and there was Juniper Jones, standing in the doorway with messy hair, plaid pajamas, and a squinty look of surprise.
“Um, Ethan?” She yawned. “No offense, but what are you doing here at the crack of dawn?”
Ethan smirked. “You don’t care what time it is whenever you come bursting through my window at some ungodly hour,” he said. “We’re going on an adventure. You coming, or not?”
Juniper lit up immediately. “Silly that you even have to ask,” she teased. “Give me seven minutes.”
“I’ll be counting,” Ethan called after her as she disappeared back into the house. “Oh, and bring a swimsuit!”
Ethan sat out on one of the wicker porch chairs to wait, tapping his foot against the old wood of the deck. The sunflowers lay across his lap. A few minutes later, footsteps pounded back down the stairs, and then there was Juniper, standing on the porch in a sundress, her hands on her hips. That was when she noticed the flowers and gasped.
“Ethan Charlie Harper,” she said, “do you have a green thumb you’ve been keeping from me all this time?”
Ethan laughed. “Definitely not. I found these on the way. But here—for you. Apology flowers,” he explained.
With some suspicion, Juniper took the flowers from his hands. “Apology flowers for what?”
Ethan grinned mischievously. “You’ll see,” he told her, pushing himself up from the chair. “Let’s just say, this adventure might not be your favorite thing.”
He jumped off the porch and started down the path, Juniper at his heels. “What do you mean by that? Ethan? You can’t just walk away from me!”
“Fine, then—I’ll run!” And he took off, sprinting the rest of the way across Juniper’s garden and to his bike. She caught up, rolling her bike in front of her, just as he was shouldering his backpack and climbing onto his seat.
“What is that for?” she demanded, leaning against her handlebars. The stems of the sunflowers were wedged precariously between the wires of her basket.
Ethan shrugged. “You’ll see,” he said, and took off biking down the path.
“Hey!” But she pedaled after him, expertly avoiding the rocks and roots that caught his tires. He led the way out of the heaviest woods and onto the main path, making his way toward the lake. As the water came into view, he stopped, Juniper slowly beside him.
“Oh God,” she said, staring at the jeweled surface. “Don’t tell me this is why you told me to wear a swimsuit.”
“Why else?” Ethan grinned. He reached into his backpack and pulled out two towels, one of which he tossed over to Juniper. She caught it but glared at him.
“This is not a fun morning surprise,” she declared.
“But it’s on your list! Don’t tell me you’re chickening out.”
“Obviously not.” She stepped off her bike, letting it fall to the side. “Come on, then. Let’s get it over with.”
When they approached the shore a few minutes later, Gus was sitting out on the dock, fishing. He waved at them. “Finally teaching Junie to swim, I see!” he called.
“Sure gonna try!” Ethan replied. Then he turned to Juniper. “You ready?”
Juniper took a deep breath, crossing her arms over the front of her polka-dot swimsuit. “As I’ll ever be.”
“All right, we’ll start slow,” Ethan said. “Just getting a feel for the water.” He waded in, mud and plants squishing between his toes. The water was pleasantly cool. The lake stretched out before them in a blue-green expanse, willows bending to meet its surface in the distance. Ducks floated contentedly in the center, bobbing with the gentle waves.
Ethan took a deep breath, inhaling the clean morning air. Juniper still hadn’t followed. She stood a few feet from the edge, her eyebrows knit in uncharacteristic apprehension. Smiling gently, he held out a hand. “Come on, it’s okay,” he said. “You can trust me.”
Juniper looked at Ethan, then out at the lake, then back at Ethan. Finally, she nodded and took his hand. Fingers interlocked, they waded into the water. Juniper squealed at the first squish of mud and laughed when a fish brushed against her leg.
“Okay,” she said. “It’s not so bad.” The water was just up to their knees.
“Didn’t I tell—” Ethan was cut off when the ground suddenly dropped off beneath him, plunging him waist deep. Beside him, Juniper shrieked, splashing at the water as she sank beside him. “It’s okay,” Ethan said, as she clung to his arm. “Look, you’re still standing!”
“Yeah, uh-huh,” she replied shakily. “Anyway, I think that’s enough for today. Good lesson, thanks, Chameleon!” She made to rush back out of the water, but Ethan grabbed her hand, keeping her in place.
“Come on, you can do it. What kind of starfish is afraid of water?”
“I’m not scared,” she retorted. “Just careful.”
“Why not be careful a little farther in?”
Juniper stuck out her tongue at him. “Fine, but we’re going at my pace.”
Inch by inch they scooted forward until they were in up to their shoulders. The shore seemed far away, and Ethan could see a few fish swimming lazily near them. Gus gave them a thumbs-up from the dock. Above them, the sun beat down and kept the water pleasantly warm.
“All right,” Ethan said. “First lesson.”
“There’s more?”
“Of course! Come on, we’re gonna tread water.” He demonstrated, pulling up his legs and kicking furiously underwater. Juniper watched, wide eyed.
“Oh, no, no,” she said. “I definitely cannot do that.”
“Sure you can. Here, put a hand on my shoulder. That’s it. Now lift your legs and kick.”
Juniper kicked, her face scrunched in concentration. And she stayed above water—but she also gripped Ethan’s shoulder with all her might. When she let go and stood back up, grinning proudly, he shook out his arm.
“Okay, that was a start,” he said, rubbing his shoulder. “But maybe next time don’t hold on so tight.”
She sighed. “Right. Trying again.”
It took nearly an hour of attempts, of standing in that one spot in the lake and of Ethan’s skin being repeatedly subjected to Juniper’s nails, but finally, she managed to tread water on her own. And although it was only for three seconds, she was so excited by the victory that she threw her hands in the air, spraying water everywhere, including into Ethan’s mouth.
He spat, wiping at his face. “Some thank you,” he said. “That was pretty good, but we’ve still got a ways to go. Why don’t you try that again?”
Juniper crossed her arms. “But I’m tired! And we’ve been doing this for hours. Can’t we take a break? I’m basically an Olympian now, anyway.”
Rolling his eyes, Ethan relented. “Fine. But just a quick break! I haven’t even taught you how to doggy paddle yet.”
“Yeah, yeah!” Juniper called over her shoulder, already wading back to shore.
They lay on the grass, letting the sun dry them slowly. If he turned his head one way, Ethan could see Gus still on the dock, sitting stoically beside his fishing pole. The other way, and he saw Juniper’s freckled cheeks as she examined the sky. When she smiled, eyes barely open, his heartbeat stuttered.
“Remember that first day we went out on the lake and looked up at the clouds?” she asked.
“Sure do,” Ethan said.
Juniper yawned, loud and long. “That was fun.”
“Sure was.”
She looked at him suddenly, so they were almost nose to nose. Ethan’s breath caught in his throat. Very seriously, she said, “I’m gonna miss you, Ethan Charlie Harper. A whole lot.”
Ethan felt his stomach twist. Soon, he realized yet again, he’d be in a car driving back up to Arcadia. How could he leave her behind?
“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m really gonna miss you too.”
She looked away again, back up at the sky, and so did Ethan. For a while it was quiet, just them and their breaths and the occasional dragonfly buzzing past. When neither of them had spoken for several minutes, Ethan pushed himself up to sitting. “Ready for round two?” he asked. But when he glanced over at Juniper, he saw that she had fallen asleep, her hands on her stomach and her eyes peacefully shut.