“My what? My sex life? What, want to hop on down to CVS and pick up some Plan B with me? Because I’ve never seen you or anyone else lining up to chat about that side of things.”
“I wasn’t going to say your sex life, Olivia.” Claire plants her hands on her hips. “Okay, look. You want me to be honest? You’ve been doing this more and more, and I’m starting to get worried about your emotional well-being.”
A million mean responses swell at the back of my tongue—Claire isn’t exactly the crying-shoulder type—but before I can snap back, Juniper cuts in.
“Guys,” she says, standing in one sharp motion. Her voice is quiet with irritation. “Are you listening to yourselves? I’m not going to tell you to apologize, but this is all objectively dumb.” She folds her arms. “Could you please think for ten seconds?”
I stiffen. Juni’s voice of reason tends to be more patient than that.
Claire and I trade a glance, chastened. It’s not fair of us, dragging Juni along for every squabble when she’s already got so much to deal with. Alongside Juni’s unhealthy stack of AP classes, she’s a concert violinist with an obscene amount of Paganini to learn for her December recital. Twice a year, Juni’s parents drive Claire and me out to Kansas City so we can watch her recitals—she plays in one of the performance halls at U of M. This season’s program seems to be stressing her out hard-core.
I look down at my sneakers and count to ten, focusing on the frayed edges of my shoelaces. When I look back up, Claire’s accusatory stare has wilted. “Sorry,” she says. “Didn’t mean to escalate.”
I sigh, my anger still simmering. Every time this happens, it gets a little harder to grin and bear it. Claire was never entirely aboard the Let Olivia make her own sexual decisions! train, but she’s gotten a million times worse since May, when Lucas—her boyfriend of over a year—dumped her in a random and arbitrary fashion. Which was weird, since Lucas ostensibly is a nice person, but . . . well. There are secret assholes in the world. Big shocker.
She’s been single for six months now, and her offhand comments about my hookups have about exhausted my patience, which, God knows, is a nonrenewable resource. Opening my mouth takes herculean effort. “I’m sorry, too,” I manage. “I’ve had a not-excellent day.”
“Same.” After a long second, Claire tugs her bag from the desk. “Okay, I can’t wait around for this kid. I’m going to be late for practice. I’ll email you guys the info later.” She sneaks a cautious glance at me. “If you . . .”
I sigh, and a grudging compromise falls out with it: “I’ll run if you want me to.”
“Thanks.” Avoiding my eyes, she strides out of the classroom in her usual military fashion. We didn’t fix things—not even close.
Juniper leans against Mr. Gunnar’s desk, looking weary. “You two. What is happening these days?”
“I don’t know. Look, I’m sorry—it’s not your job to babysit us.”
She shrugs. “No, it’s okay. Is something up, though?”
“Not really. It’s just . . . I’m used to her worrying. That’s how she . . .”
“Of course. Works.”
“Yeah, how she works, yeah. But these days it feels like—I don’t know. She’s tightening in, or clamping down, and I’m like, please, will you back the fuck off? I swear to God, sometimes she thinks she’s my mom.”
The last word fades too slowly from the air.
“That’s a lot,” Juniper says, tilting her head. Her blond hair, loose again, sways in two thin curtains, framing her eyes. Those chips of wintry gray are as perceptive as always.
“Well, I mean it.” I cross my arms, feeling mutinous. “I don’t need Claire to replace anyone. And it sure as hell feels like she’s trying.”
“Have you told her that?”
“Nah. She’d do the whole ‘who, moi?’ thing, and I don’t know. I wouldn’t be able to take it seriously.”
“I can talk to her, if you’d like.”
I consider it for a second, but how childish would that be, sending Juniper as my ambassador? “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out.”
Juniper swings her legs, looking pensive. “Do you mind if I ask something?”
“Go for it.”
“I’m not questioning your judgment, but I’m curious: you could sleep with just one guy, so why go for more than one?”
I shrug. “Because my body belongs to me, and I get to make my own decisions?”
Juniper raises an eyebrow. “I mean beyond Feminist Theory 101, Olivia.”
I give her a sheepish grin. “Well, I’m not looking for anything serious. Somehow I doubt I’m gonna find the love of my life in high school, so . . . might as well have fun, right? Low stress, low commitment.” It falls off my tongue a little too fast. I give my head a quick shake. “Ready to go?”