a
mile.”
“You know where I live?”
“You told me you lived on Fourteenth. When we were walking home.”
“I did?” That she actually remembered made him feel warm inside.
“Give me a minute to OJ my mom and put in my contacts and I’ll drive you home. You want to come in? I have to warn you, my mom has been filling the entire house with cold virus.”
“I’ll risk it,” said Wes.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
N ATURALLY, HER MOM FREAKED.
“Oh my God, what happened?” She sat up in bed. “Are you okay?”
“Obviously not,” June said, setting the glass of orange juice on the bedside table. “I have a black eye.”
“I mean — oh my God, did you have a car accident?”
“Your car is fine,” said June. She told her mom what had happened.
“Junie, you have to be more careful.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
“Let me see.”
June leaned closer and let her mom examine her injury.
“You have to get some ice on it.”
“I know. I had to bring you your orange juice first.”
“Oh, Junie!” Her mom picked up the glass of orange juice and sipped. “There’s a bag of frozen peas in the freezer. Use that.”
Wes was sitting on one of the stools when June got back to the kitchen. She opened the freezer and found the peas. She held the bag to her cheek and sat down next to Wes.
“I don’t think I can drive with one eye,” she said.
Wes leaned closer and looked straight into her face. She moved the ice pack aside to show him.
“They’re different colors,” he said.
“What?”
“Your eyes. Your right eye is aqua colored, and the other one is more like light blue.”
“Which do you like better?”
“I like both.”
“The right one is my contact. It’s tinted. The other contact I can’t get in.”
“How did you get that little scar?”
“Snakebite.”
“Really?”
“Stray bullet. Knife fight. Grizzly attack. Stray meteorite.”
Wes imagined each event.
“Exploding clown shoes.”
That was when he kissed her.
Later, Wes would wonder what had made him do it. But at the time, it was as if an enormous soft hand had pressed him toward her, and their lips had touched, and he heard his heart beating, once, twice, three times. He heard the bag of peas fall to the floor, and then it was over and they were staring at each other from about four inches apart. Her pupils were so big they nearly filled her irises, and the smell of her was making him dizzy.
“Oh no,” said Wes.
They pulled farther apart.
June said, “I didn’t …”
Wes stood up clumsily, knocking the stool over. He picked it up and set it back in place, then he picked up the bag of frozen peas and handed it to her.
“It’s okay,” said June.
“Look, I didn’t mean to —”
“It’s
okay
,” June said. “Just …” She fluttered her hand, as if waving him off. Wes turned to go, but she said, “Don’t go.”
Wes didn’t know what to do, so he stood there, halfway to the door, looking back at her. She returned the bag of peas to her face.
Wes stared. The dirty, mussed-up hair, the swollen, discolored cheek, the two different-colored eyes — none of it mattered.
“You look nice,” he said, and he meant it.
June’s mouth stretched and her eyes squeezed shut and she was laughing and her eyes were watering. Wes stood helplessly by as she brought herself under control.
He said, “I don’t think I ever knew anybody who could do that. Laugh and cry all at once.”
“It hurts to laugh.” June wiped her good eye with the back of her hand. “Please don’t be funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“That’s what made it funny.”
“I think I should go.”
“I know. Only I’m afraid you’ll freeze to death.”
They heard the side door open. A man’s voice called out, “Who left the garage door open?”
“My dad,” said June.
A few seconds later June’s father, a tall, handsome man with graying temples and an unseasonal tan, stepped into the kitchen.
Mr. Edberg looked from
mile.”
“You know where I live?”
“You told me you lived on Fourteenth. When we were walking home.”
“I did?” That she actually remembered made him feel warm inside.
“Give me a minute to OJ my mom and put in my contacts and I’ll drive you home. You want to come in? I have to warn you, my mom has been filling the entire house with cold virus.”
“I’ll risk it,” said Wes.
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
N ATURALLY, HER MOM FREAKED.
“Oh my God, what happened?” She sat up in bed. “Are you okay?”
“Obviously not,” June said, setting the glass of orange juice on the bedside table. “I have a black eye.”
“I mean — oh my God, did you have a car accident?”
“Your car is fine,” said June. She told her mom what had happened.
“Junie, you have to be more careful.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember that.”
“Let me see.”
June leaned closer and let her mom examine her injury.
“You have to get some ice on it.”
“I know. I had to bring you your orange juice first.”
“Oh, Junie!” Her mom picked up the glass of orange juice and sipped. “There’s a bag of frozen peas in the freezer. Use that.”
Wes was sitting on one of the stools when June got back to the kitchen. She opened the freezer and found the peas. She held the bag to her cheek and sat down next to Wes.
“I don’t think I can drive with one eye,” she said.
Wes leaned closer and looked straight into her face. She moved the ice pack aside to show him.
“They’re different colors,” he said.
“What?”
“Your eyes. Your right eye is aqua colored, and the other one is more like light blue.”
“Which do you like better?”
“I like both.”
“The right one is my contact. It’s tinted. The other contact I can’t get in.”
“How did you get that little scar?”
“Snakebite.”
“Really?”
“Stray bullet. Knife fight. Grizzly attack. Stray meteorite.”
Wes imagined each event.
“Exploding clown shoes.”
That was when he kissed her.
Later, Wes would wonder what had made him do it. But at the time, it was as if an enormous soft hand had pressed him toward her, and their lips had touched, and he heard his heart beating, once, twice, three times. He heard the bag of peas fall to the floor, and then it was over and they were staring at each other from about four inches apart. Her pupils were so big they nearly filled her irises, and the smell of her was making him dizzy.
“Oh no,” said Wes.
They pulled farther apart.
June said, “I didn’t …”
Wes stood up clumsily, knocking the stool over. He picked it up and set it back in place, then he picked up the bag of frozen peas and handed it to her.
“It’s okay,” said June.
“Look, I didn’t mean to —”
“It’s
okay
,” June said. “Just …” She fluttered her hand, as if waving him off. Wes turned to go, but she said, “Don’t go.”
Wes didn’t know what to do, so he stood there, halfway to the door, looking back at her. She returned the bag of peas to her face.
Wes stared. The dirty, mussed-up hair, the swollen, discolored cheek, the two different-colored eyes — none of it mattered.
“You look nice,” he said, and he meant it.
June’s mouth stretched and her eyes squeezed shut and she was laughing and her eyes were watering. Wes stood helplessly by as she brought herself under control.
He said, “I don’t think I ever knew anybody who could do that. Laugh and cry all at once.”
“It hurts to laugh.” June wiped her good eye with the back of her hand. “Please don’t be funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“That’s what made it funny.”
“I think I should go.”
“I know. Only I’m afraid you’ll freeze to death.”
They heard the side door open. A man’s voice called out, “Who left the garage door open?”
“My dad,” said June.
A few seconds later June’s father, a tall, handsome man with graying temples and an unseasonal tan, stepped into the kitchen.
Mr. Edberg looked from
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