Young Writers Society

Juno

In English class, we study all kinds of literature. I find rest and relief in literature, in the immortal characters penned to life on the easily turnable pages, in the breathing descriptions of places and events that I have never witnessed or maybe have witnessed and just never noticed before.

So naturally, in this the second or maybe third darkest hour of my life, I turn to books. And I’ve discovered something: in every book I love, somebody gets their heart broken.

And last week, I would’ve told you I never understood why girls get so emotional when a boy they’ve barely known leaves or dies or breaks their heart. Like Juliet. She's literally known Romeo for three days and when he dies, she kills herself? That’s a little extreme, I would’ve told you a week ago. I’d never do that, I’d insist. I’d probably roll my eyes if I had the power to do so. I just don’t understand it, I’d say.

But now, I do.

I got to know Ben within forty-eight hours– less than what Romeo and Juliet had. I have had exactly four entire conversations with him, not including the ten or twelve pathetically apologetic texts he’s sent me since Saturday. My phone has read every one in a cool, monotone voice, as if that stupid voice wasn’t ripping out my heart slowly, piece by piece.

This boy has the power to render me incapacitated, lying on my bed in the dark on a Sunday afternoon, dreading tomorrow and listening to the same Sam Smith song over and over and over for hours. Even Reginald is at a loss. He climbs on my back, on my head, touches my face trying to figure out why it’s all wet. He even gets some tissues for me. That monkey is half human, I swear.

I hear the door open.

“Juno?” Frey’s voice calls softly. “I have someone who wants to see you.” I can already tell who’s with him by the sound of his footsteps.

“Juno,” Ben says, his voice pleading. I can feel the vibrations of his footfalls stepping closer to the bed. I don’t hear Frey leave, so I assume he’s still there, watching.

“Don’t come any closer,” I say, holding up a hand in the direction of his voice.

“Okay.” There’s a pause. Then Ben says, “Juno, I didn’t say anything.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you,” he insists. Frey shifts his weight uncomfortably.

“How can I believe that? I barely know you.”

“Juno, you know me,” he pleads. “Did nothing that happened at the lock-in matter to you?”

“The only thing that matters about that lock-in is that somebody told my secret,” I snap. “And even if it wasn’t you...” I take a deep breath. This is good for me. This is the right thing to do. I will not be a Juliet. I need to do this. For my own safety. Even if I’m lying. Lie, Juno, you can do it.

“Even if it wasn’t you, I still think we should...” The words get stuck in my throat. Just lie to him, Juno, it’s easier than letting him hurt you.

“Stop talking,” Ben finishes, his voice as dead as my eyes. “I understand.” I hear him leave without another word. I hear him talking with Frey outside my door.

“She’s just upset right now,” Frey insists. “She really does like you, she’s just... scared.”

“I’m scared, too, man,” Ben says. “I’ve never, like, felt like... But if it’s what she wants, fine. Asteria and I are going to get some fro-yo, you wanna come?” Frey declines on a homework excuse which I don’t think Ben believes but he doesn’t push it.

“Make sure she’s sober before she drives,” Frey adds before Ben leaves.

I don’t think Ben heard him.

A few hours later, after the ninety-fifth repeat of Sam Smith’s Make It To Me, without any warning, I have an overwhelming feeling of dread and terror and pain in my stomach, twisting and knotting like an angry stomach snake. I hear the phone ring and then a scream and sob from my mother downstairs.

“FREY! JUNO!” I can’t move. I can’t move. I can’t even think. Something is horribly, horribly wrong. My door opens.

“Asteria was in an accident,” Mom sobs in the doorway. “We have to go to the hospital.” I snap into movement.

“Is she hurt?”

“Minor injuries,” Mom says. I walk towards her voice, but she stops me. “Juno, the passenger...” My heart drops to my feet.

“What’s wrong?” I can’t breathe. Everything stops.

“Ben was in the car,” Mom’s voice seems to come from miles away. “Juno...”

“No,” I hear myself say. I grip the door frame for support. No.

“He’s alive, Juno, but we have to get to the hospital,” Mom says, grabbing my arm. She half-drags me to the car, where Frey buckles me and Arinna asks a million questions.

In the chaos, I have exactly one thought: Ben’s voice whispering, “I’m scared, too, man.”