Nico stops by on New Year’s Eve to tell me Tess invited us over to her house for a get-together.
“It won’t be like the football party,” he says.
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
I agree to go because I might as well make myself as scarce as possible until my court date next week. Things have been excruciating since getting back from Mimi and Bumpa’s. The days have been long. Quiet. Lonely. I check in with Mimi every day, but I have to sneak calls when my mom and dad are working or running errands because they’re still not speaking to my grandparents.
“We’re not angry, we’re hurt,” my mom says. “There’s a difference.”
What they still don’t get is that I’m hurt, too. So I mostly keep to myself. I make my own meals. Go for rides on my skateboard. Do my chores. Hang out with Nico at the library or his house.
My parents don’t ask me much about where I’m going during the day. But a New Year’s Eve party at night is different, so I ask if it’s okay if I go to Tess’s house.
“As long as you’re home by your regular curfew of eleven o’clock,” my dad says.
“It’s a New Year’s Eve party. I’d like to stay until midnight.”
He glances at my mom.
She shrugs. “That makes sense,” she says to him.
“Right. And she makes her own rules now anyway.”
This is how it is in my house now. My parents talk about me like I’m not even here.
Sequoia is indifferent. Poppy has disowned me.
So when I walk into Tess’s beach cottage, my whole body decompresses. Nobody ignores me or glares at me or harrumphs in my direction. Instead, Tess sweeps me into a warm hug and asks what I want to drink. And by that, she means lemonade or soda.
Her parents are home.
Tess introduces us as we pass through the kitchen to get to the backyard, but our introductions are brief, as Mr. and Mrs. Nakamura are busy preparing toshikoshi soba for everyone. It smells amazing, and I can’t wait to try it.
“It’s a Japanese New Year’s Eve tradition,” Tess says as she shrugs into her coat to head outside. “The noodles break easily, and each break symbolizes moving on from the past year, leaving regrets behind us so we’ll have good fortune in the next year.”
“I could use more than one bowl of that,” I say.
“I know, right?” She opens the sliding glass door, and half the film club greets us with cheers.
Nico’s correct. This isn’t like the football party.
It’s way better.
Comfortable. Familiar.
It’s like his house two days ago when it was raining, and Tess and Jared came over to watch the first season of Stranger Things with Nico and me. In between episodes I told them all about my vaccines and my court date next week, and Tess looked at me in awe.
“Wow! You’re like our very own Ruth Bader Ginsburg right here in the flesh.” She high-fived me. “Keep fighting for what you believe in, Juniper.”
Jared is here again tonight, and he waves to me as Nico and I walk over to scan the elaborate s’mores station, complete with ten different chocolate choices. After taking our picks, we snuggle into a corner of the wraparound couch built into the patio wall and roast our marshmallows while mellow music oozes softly from the nearby speakers.
Nico spins a marshmallow into the flames, and it catches fire. He lets it burn for a split second, then blows out the blaze.
“I like the outside extra crispy,” he says.
“You would, weirdo,” Tess says as she settles in next to me.
I deposit my marshmallow between two graham crackers and set it aside so I can help Nico slide his charred marshmallow onto another graham cracker. We skipped the chocolate, since most of the candy bar selection had warnings about how they might’ve comingled with peanuts in the factory.
“Thanks for inviting me,” I say, turning to Tess. I take a bite of my s’more. It’s sticky and gooey even without the chocolate.
“Sorry if you were expecting a total rager. I’m not into stuff like that,” she says.
“Totally fine by me.”
“Good. I knew I liked you.”
Jared and a few others shuffle back into the house.
Nico reaches for his s’more, and his shoulder brushes mine. I’m instantly transported to that night watching Stand By Me with the film club. When I wasn’t sure what was going on between us, but every time he took a breath, and his shoulder pressed against mine, I was hopeful it was something good.
And it was.
It is.
It doesn’t seem fair to have something so good when the rest of my life seems so bad.
“Mine’s cooled down enough,” Nico says, angling the s’more toward me. I take a bite. “Well?” he asks hopefully as I chew.
“It’s a little overdone,” I say, and Tess laughs.
“Oh, shit,” she says, suddenly scrambling up. “Jared’s already hauling in that karaoke machine he rented.” She eyes him through the sliding glass doors. “It’s too early.” She looks at us. “Right?”
I shrug.
“Is it ever too early for karaoke with Jared?” Nico asks around a bite of s’more.
“Well, you’re no help.” Tess puts her hands on her hips. “Come join, okay?”
I nod at the same time Nico shakes his head and says, “No way.”
Tess rubs her hands together. “Ooh, this is excellent. One of you is in and one is out. The only solution is to find the perfect duet for the two of you to sing.” She sits down again and taps her finger to her chin, thinking. “Maybe ‘Summer Nights’?”
Nico cringes.
“Do I know that one?” I ask him.
He looks at me like really? “Grease?” he asks. “You seriously haven’t seen it?” He sinks his fingers into my knee. “I guess it’ll have to be our next movie. Mostly because I want to know if you find Sandy’s transformation sexist or feminist.”
“What’s he talking about?” I look to Tess for an explanation. “Who’s Sandy?”
“She’s this high school girl in the 1950s who basically changes everything about herself to get this guy, who’s kind of a bonehead, to like her.”
“It’s a musical classic,” Nico says.
Tess sets her s’more on the edge of the fire pit, crosses her legs, and leans forward. “Some people think Sandy is actually a feminist hero. They insist that when she transforms, she’s embracing her true self. I personally don’t see it. Rizzo? Okay, sure, let’s talk. But Sandy?” She shakes her head. “No.”
I turn my focus to Nico. “Which version do you believe?”
“The sexist one. I think Sandy changes who she is to be what Danny wants. Although it can be argued,” Nico says, grinning, “that Danny made some changes of his own in order to be what Sandy wants. He’s even wearing the letterman’s sweater he earned in track by the end of the movie.”
“Which he ditches immediately when the new Sandy shows up,” Tess says.
“Your point being?”
“Everything?” Tess huffs. “Okay, we definitely need to do a deeper dive on this.” She makes a move to settle back and enjoy her s’more until there’s a screech of feedback from the karaoke machine. All three of us automatically press our hands to our ears to block it. “Not right now, obviously, because I have to go save the night.” She strides toward the house. “Jared, you better not blow a fuse!” she shouts at him through the open sliding glass door.
Jared looks at her, confused, microphone in hand. He looks like Sequoia the time I caught him drawing with a bright blue crayon all over his bedroom wall when he was four years old, and I can’t help but laugh.
Nico tips his s’more like he’s tipping his hat in farewell. “Have fun, everyone.”
I rearrange myself, and Nico drapes his arm across my shoulder. I settle, content, into the crook of his arm. We sit still, peacefully watching the flames of the fire spit sparks into the dark night air. It reminds me of camping on the beach with my family a couple of summers ago. Sitting around a bonfire while my dad strummed a guitar. Sleeping in tents. Listening to waves crash. All of us together and happy. So different from the past weeks at my house now.
“Are you okay?” Nico asks after a few minutes of not talking. “You’re quiet.”
“I’m just tired.”
“Are you sure that’s all it is? I’ll do karaoke if you really want. You wouldn’t be forcing me.”
“I’d love to see you do karaoke.” I laugh. “But that’s not what I’m thinking about.”
“What’s on your mind?”
“The fire pit, the night, the music, it all reminds me of camping with my family … when things were good with us.”
He rubs my shoulder. “And?”
I focus on the flames crackling, almost dancing. “I’m wondering if going to court is worth it. Maybe I should just wait until I’m eighteen. What if I lose them over this?”
“You’re not going to lose them.”
“You don’t know how bad it’s been at home. It’s like they wish I didn’t exist.”
“The reason they’re mad is because they care that you exist.”
I thread my fingers with Nico’s. Run my other hand across his knuckles. “I think maybe I’ve been so laser focused on this one thing—getting my shots—that I lost sight of everything else. Like I never thought about what I could actually lose in the process.” I look at him. “My parents are really mad. Even worse, they’re really hurt. I’ve morally wounded them.”
“But you’re standing up for something you truly believe in. Do you realize how many people would be too afraid to do that?”
“But is it worth it?”
“It’s worth it.”
“Convince me. Because I’m having a hard time seeing it right now.”
He turns sideways to face me. Pulls my hands into his lap. “Okay. I’ve got it.” He smiles. “You’ll like this one.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“It’s like you’re the opposite of Sandy in Grease. You’re fighting for this because it’s who you are to the core. If you didn’t do it, you wouldn’t be you. You’re the anti-Sandy.”
I laugh. “That’s quite an analogy. I think I really need to see this movie.”
He laughs. “You do.” He holds my hands in his, looking at me more seriously. “We’re all going to grow up and make choices that might not be the same ones our parents would make for us. And they’re not always going to be happy about our choices. But we can’t let our parents stop us from being who we are. And living our own lives. Right?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“And I really do think it’ll get better. Court just needs to be over first.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I am.” He tucks one of my curls behind my ear. “So for now, let’s just celebrate New Year’s Eve. It’s a new beginning and all that.”
“With off-key karaoke and burnt s’mores.”
He laughs. “What could be better?”
“Kisses at midnight.”
“Yeah, there’s always that.”
“Do we have to wait until then?”
“I’d rather not.”
He leans in and presses his mouth to mine just as Jared launches into an impassioned rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” I know all the lyrics because my mom insists on blasting it to sing along when it comes on the radio in Bessie.
And somehow, in this moment, I’m able to forget and remember and forgive all at the same time.