It was the Fourth of July, and the lake was as full as Ethan had ever seen it. Picnic tables hauled in just for the occasion dotted the grass to the edge of the forest, side by side with dozens of colorful blankets. People milled about in swimsuits and sun hats, drinks and American flags in hand. The greasy scent of hamburgers and hot dogs hung over the makeshift park—Ethan thought that for the first time, it smelled a little bit like home.
The barbecue was already in full swing by the time Ethan arrived with Aunt Cara and Uncle Robert, lugging two ice chests filled with the ingredients for root beer floats. This was a town tradition. All the town businesses contributed something: drinks from the Malt, food from the general store, tables from a logger who lived at the edge of town—and of course, fireworks, courtesy of Gus. That was the best part, according to Juniper: when Gus took his motorboat out to the middle of the lake and set the sky on fire.
“Over here, Ethan,” Uncle Robert called, dipping his head toward the boathouse, where Abrams was standing in front of a gigantic grill flipping dozens of burgers. Ethan grunted, hefting the chests in his grip and teetering after his uncle.
“Careful, sweetie,” Aunt Cara implored, hurrying at his heels. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his T-shirt.
Abrams looked up as Ethan approached and set the coolers in the grass. Uncle Robert was already a few yards away, dragging a table toward them, and did not notice the bearded man’s gaze.
“You’re got some real nerve, kid,” he said. “Coming out here with the whole town to watch you. You’ve noticed, I’m sure, that you’re the only colored person on the whole beach.”
“I realize,” Ethan said coolly. “Thanks, Abrams.”
The man shrugged and turned back to his grill. The truth was Ethan had been dreading this day ever since his aunt and uncle had informed him of the occasion. Nothing sounded worse to him than putting himself in full view of the entire town—all of their stares on him at once. His only relief was that Juniper was coming, and he was already itching to find her.
“Ethan, give me a hand, would you?” Uncle Robert was still by the table, struggling to pull it closer to the bench.
Together, the pair of them managed to wiggle the bench closer to the rest of the food and unload the materials for the first round of drinks. Uncle Robert scooped and Ethan poured, and it wasn’t long before they had a table full of ice cream sodas.
Uncle Robert looked up for Aunt Cara, only to find that she had wandered off. “Don’t know where that woman’s off to,” he muttered, “but if we don’t start passing these out soon, the ice cream will melt.” He turned and started loading the glasses onto circular black trays. “Would you mind, Ethan? Just, you know, try to keep your distance from the O’Neil boy.”
Ethan balked at the thought of running into Noah as he wound his way through the crowd, and Uncle Robert seemed almost embarrassed to be asking. Still, he forced himself to nod. A moment later, he had a tray in each hand and was stepping straight into the chaos.
A local teenage band was playing on a makeshift stage of wooden planks, all lazy guitar strings and voices that cracked on the high notes. People swayed as they walked without even realizing it. Ethan thought he would hand out a drink to anyone who looked his way, but everyone seemed too preoccupied with the music or looked quickly away the moment they caught his eye. He noticed that wherever he walked, there was a gap between him and everyone else in all directions.
It was only through surprise that Ethan managed to rid himself of one tray, sneaking up on one person or another so that they took a float before they had time to think about it. Now he was down to four glasses, and the ice cream was melting fast. As the sweat began to pool at the collar of his shirt, he thought he might just down them all himself. Just as he was considering how sick four root beer floats would make him, a voice stopped him near the water’s edge.
“Ethan Harper,” Noah said. “Actually doing your job today, I see.”
Ethan felt his blood chill. He hadn’t seen Noah since that terrible day at the Malt, and after spending so much time planning with Juniper, he’d almost been able to forget the boy existed. He clutched the tray tighter and tried to convince himself that here, with all these people around, Noah wouldn’t try anything.
“Noah,” Ethan replied curtly, turning to face the other boy. Here, only a foot away, he could see Noah’s face up close—the close-set brown eyes, the acne on his forehead, the blond wisps of hair beginning to grow on his upper lip. As he watched, Noah’s lips twisted into a sneer.
“I want one of those,” Noah said, nodding at the floats. “And so does my family. My mom and dad and little brother. Why don’t you come and serve us?”
Ethan fought the urge to tip the tray of floats right into the lake, but managed to steady himself. He bit his tongue and followed in angry silence.
“You know, Ethan,” Noah said as they made their way through the throng of people. “I think we could’ve been real good friends. If it wasn’t for the whole”—he pointed to the skin of his cheek—“you know.”
“There’s nothing about you that would make me want to be your friend,” Ethan muttered.
“What did you say?” Noah demanded, whirling. The look on his face was cruel, just as it had been before he’d knocked those milk shakes over.
Ethan gritted his teeth. “Nothing.”
“Whatever,” Noah said, turning back around. A few paces later, he stopped suddenly and nodded to a group of people seated around a picnic table. “Anyway, that’s my family. You behave now. They like it when the help has manners.”
Ethan fumed silently as he trailed Noah to a picnic table, where a fair-haired family sat eating hamburgers. A man, a woman, and an angelic little boy. When they turned around, Ethan realized that this was the same family he had encountered on that first day of work at the Malt—the same woman who had bemoaned his presence to Aunt Cara in the general store. And now, too, they were staring him in disgust.
“Noah, honey,” the woman said, her voice nasal. “What is this boy doing here?”
“Root beer floats,” Ethan said quickly, before Noah could interject. “I thought you could use a few.”
The man’s eyes turned stormy, and he narrowed them in Ethan’s direction. “Where are your manners, boy?” he demanded. “Didn’t anyone teach you not to speak unless spoken to?”
“Our Noah has fantastic manners,” Mrs. O’Neil announced proudly, then glanced at her younger son, who was ripping pieces of bread from his hamburger bun and tossing them to the ground. “And Daniel, well . . . he’s learning. Don’t do that, sweetie, come on now.”
“Root beer floats,” Ethan repeated miserably.
Noah barked a cruel laugh. “Mom, Dad, come on,” he addressed, lifting his hands as if to placate his parents. “The boy barely knows what he’s doing. Let’s just take these floats.”
Ethan’s stomach twisted as the O’Neils nodded and he realized that in this family, it was Noah who had control. They all reached up to grab a drink when he gestured, then turned back to their food when he told them they’d looked long enough.
“Well, Ethan Harper.” Noah reached over and plucked his own float off the tray. “Great to see you, really. Happy to know you can actually do your job.”
Ethan didn’t miss the icy note behind Noah’s feigned cheerfulness, the way his eyes were dark and hard. Still, he clutched the now-empty tray a little tighter and stood his ground.
“Sure, Noah,” Ethan said. “And try not to spill your drink this time.” The words out, he turned and hurried away before Noah could respond. Fear pulsed in his stomach at the thought of the older boy coming after him, but when he finally dared to turn around, all he saw was the crowd milling about.
He couldn’t tell what was scarier—facing Noah up close or in a sea of people who looked just like him. Here, Noah had acted with restraint but seemed to be only barely hanging on to that forced civility, as if any wrong move from Ethan could send him flying into a rage. But for now, at least, Noah was gone, and by the time Ethan returned to Uncle Robert, his heart rate had lowered to a manageable pace.
“There you are,” his uncle said briskly. “Pass these out too, and hurry. We don’t have all day.”
Ethan heaved a resigned sigh and nodded, turning back to face the crowd. “Aye-aye, Captain,” he muttered to no one.
It seemed as if hours had passed before Ethan finally found Juniper Jones. Or rather, before she found him. He had just handed his last float to an old woman reclining on a beach chair when something red, white, and blue rammed into him from behind and jumped onto his back. He looked up, and her curls fell into his face.
“Hey!” she cried, jumping back onto the grass. “Happy Independence Day!”
Ethan managed a smile for the first time that day, raising his eyebrows as he took in Juniper’s patriotic attire. “Happy Independence Day.” It felt strange to say; even as he relaxed in Juniper’s presence, he felt a tenseness in his shoulders. Independence Day, sure—but with so many townspeople around him and Noah O’Neil not far away, he hardly felt free. He envied the ease with which Juniper sashayed across the grass, completely unconcerned about the space she filled.
“Ask me about my dress,” she said, swishing her skirt.
“What about your dress?”
Juniper grinned. “I’m so glad you asked. I’ve been running around all day, trying to get everyone to ask, but they just keep giving me funny looks.” She twirled in a circle, showing off the dress that was, essentially, an entire American flag. The bodice was navy blue and dotted with stars, and the skirt was thick candy-cane stripes. Her lips, ruby red, clashed wonderfully with her hair.
“No idea why,” Ethan said. “You’re stylish as can be.”
“Oh, put a sock in it.” Juniper rolled her eyes. “Can you please just admire my dress? I made it myself. There are forty-eight stars on the whole thing, you know. Here, count!” She spun in circles, too fast for Ethan to even register the stars, before he stopped her.
“Okay, enough!” he cried. “So, what, you’re the American flag?”
Juniper shook her head. “No, of course not. I’m Betsy Ross after she accidentally sewed herself into her own flag.”
Ethan burst into laughter. Juniper looked so proud of herself, her chin jutting out smugly, that he couldn’t bring himself to tell her that in Betsy’s time there were a good thirty-five fewer stars on that flag.
“All right, Ms. Ross,” he conceded. “What do you say we go get some floats of our own before they’re all gone?”
“That sounds just dandy,” she replied, curtsying. “And also some hot dogs. I would quite enjoy a hot dog.”
Ten minutes later, the pair sat on a picnic blanket by the water’s edge, away from the celebratory commotion. Two root beer floats and a plateful of hot dogs sat on the blanket between them. Juniper had drowned hers in ketchup and mustard.
“The thing about hot dogs,” she said, her mouth full, “is that they’re the best food in the whole wide world. You can have them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, you can add extra flavor to them, and you don’t even need a fork and knife to eat them.”
Ethan watched her in amusement as she stuffed the rest of the hot dog into her mouth and licked some stray ketchup off her lips. He was only halfway through his first one, and she was just about to get started on her third.
“Someone’s hungry,” he commented.
Juniper nodded vigorously as she slathered mustard on the bun. “When it comes to hot dogs, I am always hungry.”
Uncle Robert came over just then, finally finished with ice cream-soda delivery. There was a hamburger in his hands. “How are you doing, Juniper?” he asked, offering up a rare smile.
“Mr. Shay!” She dropped her hot dog onto the blanket and leapt to her feet, darting over to squeeze Ethan’s uncle in a tight embrace. “Happy Independence Day!”
“Same to you. You sure are looking patriotic today.”
Juniper twirled proudly in a circle, her skirt billowing out around her. “She’s Betsy Ross after she accidentally sewed herself into her own flag,” Ethan explained, rolling his eyes. His uncle laughed.
“Junie, there’s just no end to your ideas,” he said affectionately. “All right, well, you kids have fun. I’ll see you around here later today.” He turned, then paused for a moment and looked over his shoulder, his eyes suddenly serious. “And be careful, please,” he added. “A lot of people out today.”
Juniper and Ethan shared a solemn glance as Uncle Robert walked away, but neither acknowledged the warning. Silently, Juniper returned to her place next to Ethan and ate two more entire hot dogs before she declared that she felt full.
“I don’t know how you do it,” Ethan said, swallowing the last bite of his third and final hot dog.
Juniper grinned. “I’m like an elephant!” she cried. “They eat a ton. Did you know that’s because they don’t have stomachs, only intestines? They eat and eat and the food just goes right through them.” She stuck an arm out next to her nose and waved it around like a trunk.
“Juniper Starfish Elephant Jones,” Ethan said.
“It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?” Before Ethan could respond, she turned and yelled, “Hey!” as she suddenly grabbed Ethan’s arm. “They’re starting a dance floor over where the stage is! Come on, Ethan, we absolutely have to go dance, this band is so good.”
Ethan thought that for all their enthusiasm, the band was crap—still, he didn’t protest as Juniper grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the edge of the dance floor.
“Do you know the Charleston?” Juniper asked over the din of guitar strums. Ethan shook his head. “Me neither! In fact, I’m not really sure what dances I do know. I just throw my arms around and hope for the best. Like this.”
Ethan leaned back as she closed her eyes and flailed wildly to a rhythm just a few beats off from the music.
“Ethan, dance with me!” she shrilled, grabbing him by the wrist.
“No, I really don’t—” he attempted, but she was already twirling him around.
“Don’t fight the music,” she scolded, then, “I love this song!” as the band launched into a cover of “Rock Around the Clock” that was slightly out of tune.
As uncomfortable as he felt, Ethan focused on Juniper, her cheeks bright red as she shuffled back and forth in the muddy grass, and tried to copy her wild routine. When she lifted an arm, so did he. When she did what seemed to be some variant of the hokey pokey, he hopped in a circle on one foot and tried not to fall over. She couldn’t dance any better than he could, and though the couples around them clearly had more experience, he began to feel more at ease. On the crowded dance floor, in the middle of all the noise and chaos, people didn’t seem to notice him. For the first time in Ellison, at his most conspicuous, Ethan felt blissfully invisible.
A few songs later, Juniper dropped her hands to her knees, panting. “I’m exhausted,” she announced, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Wanna go sit down?”
Ethan nodded, feeling his heart knocking heavily against his rib cage. He took a half step back, about to follow her off the dance floor, when his foot caught on something and he went sprawling onto the grass.
“Oof.” He blinked the air back into his lungs. Looking up, he saw Juniper’s concerned face—and next to it, Noah’s. Grinning.
“Sorry,” he sneered. “Guess my foot slipped.”
“You’re a jerk.” Juniper glared up at Noah as Ethan pushed himself to his feet. “Go away, Noah.”
“I was just trying to dance,” Noah said. “He got in my way.”
“Well, then, you’re a bad dancer,” Juniper retorted.
Ethan said nothing, still a bit stunned by the fall. Before Noah appeared, Ethan had been feeling like he was finally living up to the nickname Juniper had given him—Chameleon. Blending in, as much as he could. But now, as Noah loomed over him, Ethan felt that security slip away—he could feel everyone’s eyes on him.
“And you’re a freak,” Noah responded. “Maybe even a bigger freak than blackie over here.”
Ethan bristled. In front of his family, Noah had been cold but not rude—he’d kept up his manners. Away from them, all bets were off. Ethan knew he had to get out of here before the situation escalated.
Thankfully, a soft voice called out, “Come on, Noah, lay off,” and Ethan turned to see Courtney a few feet away, her arms crossed over her chest. “I just wanna dance. Let’s go.”
Noah glanced between Courtney and Ethan, seeming ready to hurl another insult before Courtney raised an eyebrow. He glowered, then spat onto the grass. “Fine,” he muttered, stomping toward his girlfriend. “See ya, freaks.”
The warmth and exhilaration of dancing had long left his body by the time Ethan watched Noah walk away—despite the summer sun bearing down on them, he felt a sudden chill.
“They’re stupid,” Juniper said. “Just ignore them.”
Easier said than done, Ethan thought, but followed Juniper off the dance floor. They made their way back to the picnic blanket and Juniper flopped down on her back, her hair trailing into the lapping water. He knelt beside her and squinted out over the lake, watching people in rowboats racing swimmers through the gentle waves. As he swatted absently at the bugs that hid among the reeds, he tried to forget about Noah for a second time that day.
“Hey, Chameleon,” Juniper said after a while, tugging the leg of Ethan’s pants. One freckled arm was draped across her eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
She shook her head sleepily. “Okay. That’s not what I was going to say, though.”
He glanced down at her.
“I was just going to say, I really like the Fourth of July. It’s the only time of year when”—she yawned—“the whole town comes together like this. It feels like I’m part of something.”
Ethan wished he could agree. It was hard to feel patriotic in a place where he wasn’t welcome. It seemed impossible that this could be his country, too, when he so obviously did not belong. As if sensing his unease, Juniper felt around for his hand and, when she found it, squeezed it tightly and didn’t let go.
“Wake me up when the fireworks start,” she mumbled, then rolled onto her side and fell asleep.
Darkness crept in a few hours later, and Juniper was still fast asleep, snoring lightly. Ethan had brought along a novel and was sixty pages in when the sun sank too low for him to make out the words on the pages.
He tapped Juniper with his foot. “Wake up.” She groaned loudly and rolled away from him. “June,” he said, leaning over so that his lips were a few inches from her ear. Covering his mouth with one hand, he attempted to make a staticky sound, like a radio interference. “This is Chameleon delivering a secret message for Starfish. Come in, Starfish. Do you read me?”
After a pause, Juniper rolled over, smiling slightly, but didn’t open her eyes.
“Starfish, HQ has informed me that the entire country is at risk and will probably explode if you do not accept this message.”
Juniper lifted a hand to her mouth and opened her eyes. “This is Starfish reporting for duty,” she said. “What’s the message, Chameleon?”
Thinking quickly, he blurted, “The boatman is in the torpedo. I repeat, the boatman is in the torpedo. Detonation scheduled for T-minus ten minutes.”
“Well then, Chameleon”—Juniper grinned and sat up—“I guess it’s time to move out.” She turned and glanced over her shoulder at the lake, where Gus was standing on the deck of a sturdy wooden motorboat, steering it toward the center while holding a package of fireworks under his arm. Above him, the sky had gone dark.
“Come on,” Juniper urged, jumping to her feet and pulling Ethan with her. “We have just enough time to get up there before the show starts.”
Ethan raised an eyebrow as she tugged him through the crowd and toward the trees. “Get up where?”
She glanced back at him and smirked, a twinkle in her eyes. “The best seats in the house,” she said. “You’ll see.”
Ethan gave a silent thanks that he was a runner as she took off through the dim forest, dust flying up in her wake. He kept on her heels, marveling at the ease with which she navigated through the trees, when to him every trunk and branch looked exactly like the last. Somewhere behind them, he heard the dim sounds of the barbecue, but Juniper’s billowing flag skirt pulled him deeper into the woods.
When they emerged from the trees, panting, they were standing in a small meadow. He recognized it vaguely as the place where Juniper had found him after his phone call with his father—he could hardly remember how much time had passed since then. And there, perched majestically before them, was Alligator Hill, sloping gently skyward.
“Look at the moon,” Juniper marveled, pointing to the top of the hill. It loomed in the sky, low and huge and nearly full. Ethan thought that if he stood on the hill and reached up, he could pluck it from the sky and hold it in his hands.
Juniper seemed to have the same idea, because she cried, “I’ll race you up there!” and took off sprinting up the grassy slope.
“Oh, no, you don’t!” Ethan shouted, his arms pumping as he took long strides toward Juniper. He’d always been good at running uphill, and it wasn’t long before he was side by side with her, then passing her, sticking out his tongue as he reached the top and dove to the ground, his heart racing faster than his legs ever could.
Juniper surfaced a few moments later and dropped down beside him, panting heavily. “All right, Ethan Harper, you win,” she breathed. “This time.”
“Every time,” he retorted.
She slapped his arm. “Shut up and look over there.” He followed her arm as she pointed ahead of them. They were high enough above most of the trees that they could just make out the moonlight reflected on the lake and a few people milling around. Even here, so far from the crowd, Ethan could just barely make out the sound of the band.
“Shh,” Juniper whispered, though he hadn’t spoken. “It’s starting.”
Right on cue, a familiar drumbeat rose up from the trees, getting louder every moment. Juniper clambered to her feet and placed her right hand over her heart, facing the lake. After some hesitation, Ethan did the same. He wasn’t sure how, but when a girl’s powerful voice began to sing the lyrics to “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the words cleared the forest and floated right into his ears.
“That’s Courtney, Noah’s girlfriend,” Juniper whispered in his ear. “She’s been singing it every year since she was twelve. She may be friends with terrible people, but she has some voice.”
For all anyone could tell, the entire state of Alabama went silent as Courtney sang. Ethan wasn’t feeling particularly full of love and pride for his country, but he could imagine every person from Montgomery to Birmingham stepping out of their houses and turning toward Courtney’s voice. Beside him, Juniper had tears in her eyes.
It wasn’t until the very last note that Ethan heard the faint whine of fireworks, and as Courtney’s “brave” petered off into silence, the sky exploded in light. He couldn’t help but gasp as the fireworks flew up above the lake, seeming only inches away as they burst into colorful, glittering streamers. As one faded, another would take its place, and even Alligator Hill shook with the shattering booms.
As the show went on, Ethan and Juniper sank back into the grass. The night sky shimmered under the watchful eye of the moon and Juniper tilted her head skyward, drinking in the moonlight through the trees. Suddenly, as if inspired by some omnipotent force, she let out a triumphant howl. The sound of it brought chills rising on Ethan’s arms.
“Wow,” he said. “Maybe we should add wolf to your list of animal nicknames.”
She did not respond, but smiled, and the fireworks reflected in her eyes.
Juniper had told Ethan that Gus had an endless supply of firecrackers, and that seemed to be true. Whenever he thought it was over, that whining sound would pierce the air again, and sparks would fly above the trees. Time seemed to slow and then stop completely as they lay on top of Alligator Hill and watched the sky. Between explosions, Juniper would point out the stars.
“That’s Orion’s Belt, I think,” she said, tracing her index finger along a row of three twinkling pinpoints. “Remind me to add that to our list, okay? To learn the constellations?”
Ethan nodded sleepily. “Deal.”
Eventually, there was a suspenseful screeching louder than all the others. Juniper reached out and gripped Ethan’s hand. “This is the grand finale,” she whispered.
And was it ever. The entire sky seemed enveloped in this last display, an explosion of confetti rockets that reached out past the forest, the cities, and the oceans to touch every corner of the Earth in a dizzying swirl of color. Even after the fireworks had faded away, and the night air had found silence, Ethan’s ears still rang.
“By gosh,” he murmured, still looking up.
“Yeah,” Juniper agreed. “By gosh.”
Down below, they could hear the faintest sound of the band striking up a celebratory melody, but it was years away. The moon was right above their heads, seeming to offer them a smile. Juniper sighed. They closed their eyes and breathed as stardust fell from the black satin night sky and settled on their cheeks.