Ethan would miss Aunt Cara’s chicken sandwiches. This occurred to him as he sat with Juniper by the lake, fishing one sandwich after another out of the picnic basket between them. His shift had just ended, and the sun was high and bright. Juniper lay next to him in the grass, shoveling ripped off sandwich pieces into her mouth.
“This is the perfect angle for digestion,” she told him.
This was one afternoon of many they’d spent in this way over the summer, eating lazily by the water. But it was these moments that Ethan tucked away in his memory, that he would come back to years later and remember fondly. This was Juniper at her most relaxed and unguarded, her most honest.
“You know, I’ve been working on a new painting,” she said now. “It’s of Gus. And your mom. And the movie theater in Montgomery.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
“It’s complicated. I’ve always just painted, you know, landscapes. The lake, Alligator Hill, the forest. But I realized that what means most to me in the world is the people I love. So I wanna learn how to paint people too. I’m not very good yet, but I’ll bet by the end of the month, you’ll be looking at the best portrait artist in all of Alabama.”
“I’ll bet,” Ethan said, his mouth full.
“And also,” Juniper went on, “we should talk about the next thing on our invincible summer list. I’m thinking either bake a cake as tall as we are or learn the jitterbug. I’ve been really itching to bake, but of course, I’ve also been really itching to dance, so I think you’ve gotta be the deciding vote. Of course, on the other hand, we could also do . . .”
She went on, gesturing wildly above her face from where she lay, as Ethan tried his best to follow. She was still talking when Noah arrived.
Juniper didn’t notice him at first, and neither did Ethan. She was too caught up in her story, and he was too caught up in her freckled nose and the way her hands made little waves through the summery air. It wasn’t until Noah squatted down on the grass beside them that Ethan jumped and Juniper stopped midsentence.
“Hi, Juniper,” Noah said. “Hi, Ethan.”
“What are you doing here?” Juniper demanded, sitting upright.
Noah leaned his elbows against his knees and grinned. “Some greeting,” he said. “I just wanted to say hello to my two friends.”
Ethan tensed, ready to spring up and run. “Well, you’ve said it. You can go.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. I’m just here to chat. Catch up a bit. It’s been a while.”
“Not long enough,” Juniper muttered. She, like Ethan, was sitting with muscles clenched.
“So, heard you two went on a little trip to Montgomery the other day,” Noah went on. “That’s fun. What was it, some kind of date?”
Ethan and Juniper made eye contact across the picnic basket, both sensing the threat in his question. Noah seemed to take this as confirmation.
“Knew it!” He leaned forward, chin on his hands. “Wow, Juniper. That’s bold, considering.”
Ethan narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You mean Juniper hasn’t told you?” Noah said. “What, Starfish? Did you think he’d never find out?”
“Never find out what?”
“What folks ’round here do to people like you,” Noah said. “To protect ourselves.”
“Noah, don’t do this.” Juniper’s face was ashen.
Noah just shrugged.
“What’s going on? June?”
Juniper shook her head quickly. “It’s not important.”
“No, Ethan,” Noah interjected. “It’s very important.”
“Noah,” Juniper said. She gripped the cloth of her skirt in both fists.
“No, June, it’s okay,” Ethan said slowly, looking at Noah. “I think I should know.”
The grin that sprang to the other boy’s face turned Ethan’s blood cold. If he wasn’t so curious—curious and angry—he would have leaned away.
“It was last year,” Noah said, evidently relishing the moment. “There was a girl in town, only fifteen years old at the time. Her daddy was a well-to-do man in town. They were good people. Honest people. Weren’t asking for trouble. But then they hired a live-in family to help out around their property.
“They were called the Parkers. A mother and father, Judy and Leroy Parker, and two sons, Abel and Cole. Judy cooked and cleaned, Leroy worked out on the yard. Abel was a kid, only eight or so. Cole, though, was seventeen. Oh, and did I mention? They were Negroes. The whole lot of them.”
“They were good people,” Juniper interrupted, her cheeks flushed. “They were kind. They didn’t deserve it.”
Noah held up a finger, frowning. “I’m getting to that part.” He cleared his throat. “Everyone in town knew the Parkers didn’t belong here. But they were earning their keep, so we let them stay. Abel and Cole had to go to a different school next county over, but the rest of the time they’d be around town. Come to think of it, Cole even worked at your uncle’s malt shop for a little while last summer.”
Despite the sun beating down on them, Ethan felt suddenly cold. He just barely remembered his uncle telling him that the boy who’d worked for him the previous summer wasn’t around anymore.
“That boy Cole was something real special. Real smart for a Negro, clever-smart. He could trick you just like that.” He snapped his fingers in Ethan’s face. “Never knew what hit you. And that’s what he did with the girl.
“Long story short, he got friendly. Too friendly. Used to be that they’d say hello when they saw each other around. That’s all anyone thought it was. But then her daddy found them together out in their garage. I think you can guess what they were doing.”
Juniper clutched tighter at her skirt. “She cared about him.”
“She thought she cared,” Noah fired back. “He brainwashed her. It’s what people like him do.” Juniper was shaking now she was so angry, but he turned pointedly away from her, back to Ethan. “The dad chased him off the property, of course. But he didn’t stop there—how could he? Running into the woods stark naked in the middle of the night isn’t punishment enough.”
Despite himself, despite Juniper’s quivering lips, Ethan leaned forward. His heart was racing.
“Luckily,” Noah went on, “he knew people. Ever heard of the Klan, Ethan? May not be big in Washington, but everyone knows them around here. They keep the Negroes in line. Anyway, this dad, he knew someone in the Klan. My uncle. Lives just a couple towns over. And he called my uncle, and he said, ‘Rick, we’ve got a problem here,’ and my uncle Rick came over right away.”
Noah smiled, his eyes as heartless as Ethan had ever seen them. “The next day, they found Cole strung up in a tree down by the lake.” He drew a finger across his neck. “Dealt with.”
Ethan was silent. His heartbeat was loud in his ears.
“I just wanted you to know,” Noah said after a while, “what happens when you try to mix things together. Try to say that this”—he pointed between Ethan and Juniper—“is okay. Because it’s not, Ethan. I know you’re not from around here, that’s why I’m telling you. Just being a good neighbor.”
“Noah O’Neil,” Juniper hissed, low and hard. “You worthless piece of crap.”
Noah simply smiled. “Oh, shut up, Juniper. You know as well as I do that Ethan’s not welcome here. God knows why his father thought he could show back up to town with his half-breed child.” He turned to Ethan, tilting his head to one side. “Things have been changing since the court’s ruling last year, about that school in Kansas. The colored folks have been changing. They’re saying that a revolution’s coming, did you know that? They’re saying that things are gonna change.” He laughed. “But I’m not worried. Because my uncle, and all the people like him, they’ll keep everything under control.”
When Ethan’s mother, at her kitchen table in Montgomery, had said the word revolution, it had made Ethan’s heart lurch. From Noah’s lips, it sounded like a slur. Ethan didn’t realize it, but he was standing. He was dropping his chicken sandwich onto the grass. He was turning, arm outstretched, to slap Noah O’Neil across the face.
There was a shattering clap as Ethan’s palm connected with Noah’s cheek, then a moment where everything froze. The lake, the wind, the hovering bugs—everything was suspended midair, midmovement. Everything was silent. Then Noah toppled backward into the dirt and the sound came rushing back.
“What the hell?” Noah cried, clutching at his cheek. He lay stunned, looking up at Ethan with wide eyes.
Juniper, too, had leapt to her feet, and now looked frantically between Noah and Ethan. Ethan stood panting, fists clenched, ears ringing. As Noah regained his composure and struggled to his feet, Ethan stumbled backward.
“How dare you,” Noah growled, lurching at him. But Ethan was faster, and he knew it. He whirled and took off running toward the trees, heartbeat ricocheting through his whole body. Noah didn’t give chase, but Ethan heard him shriek the same thing over and over: “You’ll regret this. You’ll regret this!”
Juniper found Ethan in the forest clearing some time later. He was lying next to the brook, fists clenched at his side. He stared up at the sky through a gap in the trees until she leaned over him and filled his vision with her freckled face. She carried the picnic basket, still half full of sandwiches.
“I thought you’d be here,” she said. She sat down beside him, crossing her legs, and picked at the grass. Ethan said nothing.
“Okay, I’m guessing you’re upset. That makes sense.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Ethan asked. He still stared upward, where the blue was so bright it hurt his eyes. Only minutes before he’d been looking at Juniper as they ate chicken sandwiches and thinking about how sometimes she made his stomach turn somersaults. And as if reading his mind, Noah had appeared and informed him that this could never be.
Juniper frowned down at her hands. “I guess I didn’t want to scare you.”
“I’m already scared, Juniper. I’ve been scared this whole time.” It was the first time he’d said it out loud, but it was true. For weeks now, fear had been his default. Now, it just felt more real.
“I’m sorry,” Juniper said.
“I know.” Ethan lifted a hand and trailed it in the brook. Juniper, sitting a few feet away, seemed to fill the entire clearing with her anxious energy. He wondered if she was imagining, like he was, finding this boy he’d never met in a tree out in the woods, looking into his eyes and realizing how easily that could have been him. How easily that could still be him.
Juniper scooted closer. “I should have told you,” she said. “No one else was going to, at least not in a nice way. But of course they’ve all been thinking about it. And I know you being my friend doesn’t make it any better.”
Ethan felt the urge to inch farther away, but there was nowhere to go. He was struck with the sick realization that his proximity to Juniper was a threat to both of them and it always had been. How foolish he’d been to let himself feel anything for her, thinking their friendship could be anything more.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he blurted, looking up at her.
Juniper glanced at him sharply. “Why would you say that? I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”
“No, I—” He shook his head. “I’d never mean to hurt you. But I don’t want it to happen by accident either. Like collateral damage.”
“Ethan, you don’t have to worry about me,” Juniper said quietly. “Nothing’s going to happen. Noah just talks big.”
“I don’t know,” Ethan said. He could still feel a sting on his palm where it had connected with Noah’s face. And he still heard the older boy’s words repeating over and over. You’ll regret this.
“I can’t believe I hit him,” he murmured.
Juniper snorted. “I can’t believe it took you so long. Really, he deserved it.”
“Yeah,” Ethan said, sitting up slowly. “But it’s not so simple, right? Deserving and not deserving. Hitting a white kid in Arcadia got me sent here. Hitting a white kid in Ellison could mean—” He couldn’t finish the sentence.
Juniper shook her head. “Don’t,” she breathed.
“How can I not?”
Juniper was silent. Her cheeks were red, her eyes misty. Ethan looked over at her, his fierce advocate and loyal friend, and wanted nothing more than to keep her safe. But how, he wondered, when he wasn’t even sure he could protect himself?
“I don’t know what to do,” he said, his voice breaking. A few tears came loose, trickling down his cheeks.
“Ethan,” Juniper whispered. She leaned forward, gathering him into his arms, and he leaned against her.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said again.
Juniper squeezed him closer. “We look out for each other. As best we can.” She pressed her face against his shoulder. “That’s all we can do.”
Ethan said nothing, just let himself be held as the sun filtered down through the trees and the brook trickled past them. Juniper’s embrace was soft and warm, and her hair smelled like flowers. She was right, he knew. They would look out for each other, just as they had all summer. In some ways, they were each all the other had.
The wind shifted, sending a scattering of loose grass blowing toward them. Neither Ethan nor Juniper moved. He stayed there in her arms until she had almost convinced him that everything would be okay. Until he was almost sure.