Oh my stars, would you look at that,
Mama Alice says in her sweet-scratchy Kentucky drawl
as she tucks a stray blond hair back into her beanie
her freckles dancing on her cheeks as she smiles.
That’s just picture-perfect if you ask me.
Mom nods in agreement, her thick locs littered with snow
as she kisses us each on the cheek
and then pulls out
a thermos of hot chocolate from her bag
for us to all pass around.
I’m taking a pepperminty sip
savoring the warmth traveling into my belly
when I feel a persistent tap on my shoulder.
Hey, you’re in my grade. The new kid?
June, right?
I break away from Moms
turn to face the voice.
It’s Juniper, I say, before I
grasp who I’m speaking with.
Right, sorry. Juniper. Well, I’m Lyric.
I think we have English together.
I need a favor.
Would you mind helping me for a minute?
I know who she is.
How could I forget a girl
named after singing itself?
Lyric Watkins.
Only one of the most beautiful
people at my new school.
She’s never once even acknowledged
