Everything We Didn't Say(20)

Henry gave Juniper a little nod of encouragement.

“It’s just that there’s nowhere else for you to go right now.” She tried a different tack. “Grandma and Grandpa will be home soon, and then you can go back to the farmhouse, but for now they need to be with Jonathan. And I guess that leaves you with me.”

“I’ll stay with Zoe.”

A friend? Juniper felt guilty that she didn’t even know for sure. “We all think you should be with family right now.”

This made Willa lift her head.

“And you’re family?”

She fixed her mother with a withering look, and Juniper nearly melted beneath the icy heat of those hazel eyes. How could an eighth grader pull off a look of such contempt?

“Hey, now,” Mr. Crawford cut in. “That’s no way to speak to your mom.”

Willa turned her laser gaze on him.

“I’m serious, young lady.” He leaned in, ignoring her death look. “I know you’re upset, but I expect better from you.”

She put her head back down but didn’t say anything more.

Juniper cleared her throat. “Why don’t we go grab lunch somewhere? We could drive to Munroe or—”

“I’m fine,” Willa cut in. “I’m staying here.”

Losing her will, Juniper turned to Henry. “Is that okay?” she said. “I mean, do you think that’s wise?”

He shrugged. “I suppose Willa can decide what she feels up for. Right, Willa? You can’t sit in my office all day, but if you’d like to return to your class and be with your friends—and if your mother approves—I don’t see why you shouldn’t.” He turned his attention to Juniper. “You don’t have plans to go to the hospital?”

“No. Not yet. Just waiting to hear more…” Juniper trailed off, uncertain what else to say. She was painfully aware that she had been left behind, barely even considered when her family rushed off to comfort and support one another.

However, if she was being honest with herself, Juniper was kind of glad to have been abandoned. Navigating the strained relationships within her family was difficult at the best of times. Surely the trauma of Jonathan’s dire situation would only make matters worse. Juniper felt a stab of guilt at her own pragmatism, and the knife twisted deeper when she realized that time alone with Willa was exactly what she had hoped for all along. Too bad her daughter wasn’t about to make it easy.

“Well, okay.” Henry gave his knees an authoritative pat. “Willa, you’re welcome to go back to class. I believe the eighth graders are in the art room for third period?”

Willa nodded.

“And your mother will be here after school to pick you up.”

It wasn’t a question, and though Willa rolled her eyes, she didn’t argue. She slowly put her feet on the ground and reached beside her chair for the backpack she had dropped there. It was blue plaid and she had affixed a Breckenridge key chain to the zipper. Juniper instantly noticed the telltale green-and-white Colorado license plate design and felt a trill of hope. She had sent that key chain in a care package months ago. Maybe it was feeble to pin her faith on something so small, but Willa hadn’t thrown her gift away. Instead she saw it—she used it—every day. Maybe, Juniper wished, it was a token of their connection, tenuous though it may be.

Mr. Crawford stood, too, effectively blocking Willa’s path to the door until she looked him in the eye. “I want you to know that if you change your mind,” he told her, “you can come back here anytime. You have a get-out-of-jail-free card today, courtesy of me. We can call your mom and she’ll come right back for you.”

Juniper stood and nodded. “I’ll turn my ringer on high.”

“Sometimes it takes a bit for our bodies to catch up with our minds, Willa,” Mr. Crawford continued. “You know what happened this morning, but you haven’t processed it yet. That’s okay. Just be sure to let us know if you start feeling not like yourself.”

Willa stared at her feet, thumbs hooked on the straps of her backpack and jaw tilted away from Juniper as if she couldn’t bear to even acknowledge her presence. “Mmm-hmm,” she muttered. “Can I go now?”

Mr. Crawford stepped back and swept his hand toward the door. Willa all but scurried away, not sparing Juniper a single glance on her way out.

When the door had snapped shut—just a degree shy of a slam—Juniper couldn’t stop the heavy sigh that escaped her lips.

“She’s thirteen,” Henry reminded her.

“She hates me.”

“No she doesn’t. She just doesn’t know how to be around you. You’ve been gone for a long time, June.”

Why did everyone feel the need to remind her of her absence? It was as if the whole of Jericho was keeping tabs. “Thank you for your help,” Juniper said, choosing to ignore Henry’s comment. “Please call me if she changes her mind.”

“Of course.”

In the parking lot, Juniper banged her head softly against the steering wheel. Mr. Crawford was right—Willa’s body hadn’t caught up to what her mind had just been forced to acknowledge, and neither had Juniper’s. But she was starting to feel it now. The high flutter in her chest, the prick of impending doom that twitched spider legs down her spine. Her therapist had taught her how to calm herself years ago, how to lean into the panic and count to ten. Inhale the future, exhale the past. But that was all a load of crap, wasn’t it? Juniper couldn’t exhale the past. It was catching up with her, circling her neck with strong fingers, choking her. Good thing she had become quite adept at living breathlessly.