Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

june 2nd - june 7th, 1997

wiskayok, nj.

new york city, ny.

Jackie’s parents swallow her cover story, the lies slipping down their throats with surprising ease, like a bitter pill masked in sugar.

As far as James and Cindy Taylor are aware, Jackie is going on a summer vacation with Tiffany Duggins and her family. Tiffany’s one of her sorority sisters. She’s high-status enough that she makes for an easy target. The weight of expectation is present in the room, an invisible force shaping Jackie’s conversations with her parents. 

(“First, we’re going to Florida to spend two weeks at her family’s summer home. Yes, it’s in Palm Beach. You should see the house, it’s huge. We thought it would be fun to start off spending some time on the water, you know?”)

(“No, it won’t be just the two of us. Her parents will be there too. And her older brother is going to meet us when we make it up to the Hamptons. Oh, and get this, Tiffany mentioned that he’s single, and that he’s studying law at Yale.”) 

(“No, Dad, they definitely don’t vote Democrat. Mr. Duggins works in natural gas, remember?”) 

She expected to have to defend her case, but they didn't ask questions at the end of her speech. It’s so easy, it’s practically offensive. 

Whatever. 

Her feelings are hurt with the lack of care, but in the end, it’s easier this way.

The only time they seem to have any meaningful reaction is when she asks to borrow a credit card. They’d yet to give her one of her own, a fact that she’s been complaining about since the earliest days of high school. She’s got plenty of her own money sitting in her checking account, but she doesn’t want to use it if she doesn’t have to. 

As she makes the request, a knot forms in her throat, waiting for a resistance that doesn’t come. 

Her father’s brow furrows at the question. “A credit card? Jackie, are you sure that you need one?”

But Jackie knows how to play the two of them against each other. Her eyes flicker to her mother’s hands, twisting at a napkin. “Mom, please, it’s just… I want to be able to fit in with Tiffany’s family.” 

That does it. 

Cindy drops the napkin and reaches for her wallet, fingers tapping a rhythm against the leather that echoes her unspoken concerns. The last thing that she wants is for Jackie to seem poor while spending a summer with such a wealthy friend. Jackie’s gaze shifts from the credit card to her mother’s eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation. There isn’t any. 

“I do wish you weren’t leaving tomorrow.” Her mom says, leaning forward to pass Jackie the thick, black card. “We never got to go shopping together.” 

“Yeah, it was like, a super last minute invite.” Jackie’s fingers dance nervously along the edge of the card, her uncertainty masked behind a practiced smile. “I’m sorry that we can’t go, though.”

Cindy’s gaze lingers on her outfit—a pale blue wrap dress, speckled with dots of white and grey—her lips twitching in a half-smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Will you at least show me the clothes you’re planning on bringing? This seems like a family you’ll want to look your best around.”

Jackie flashes her mother’s favorite smile; a gentle curve of her lips. It’s neither too wide, nor too modest, with just a sliver of white teeth peeking through. 

“I haven’t started packing yet, actually. Do you want to help me?” 

Her mother’s lips curve upward, mirroring Jackie’s expression with a pang of bittersweet familiarity. They look so alike right now—beautiful, brittle, and false. Has her mom ever felt the way Jackie does now? Was she ever just a girl? Sometimes, it seems like Cindy burst into existence exactly the way she is. But that can’t be true. She can’t have always been this person, right? This clouded, critical, and unhappy woman? 

“Of course.” Cindy’s words carry a hint of wistfulness, a gentle reminder of all the distance between them. Her voice brightens with unfeigned warmth. Jackie feels a twinge of resentment—why was genuine connection so intertwined with that of her appearance? Sometimes, the generational gap between them seems impossible to bridge. “Let me grab my glass of wine, and we can get started right now.”

As soon as her mother’s footsteps fade down the hallway, she kneels beside her open suitcase, fingers deftly rearranging the jumble of clothes within. 

Elegant cocktail dresses are meticulously folded and placed back into the depths of her closet, swapped for a colorful array of cropped shirts and soft cotton shorts. She wishes that she had a guidebook for something like this. What should she even pack? Laura Lee gave her a brief rundown of the route so she could plan for the weather, but Jackie still feels a gnawing pinch of anxiety tugging at the edges of her mind.

Her fingers curl around her toothbrush and makeup bag, but her eyes remain fixed on the suitcase. Doubts swirl within her, a whisper that she’s going to be exposed as a fraud before everyone’s judgment. That they’ll all know how false she really is. Like, she’s never even been inside of a bar before. 

A self-deprecating chuckle slips from her lips. It’s a small rebellion against her inner critic. Who is she kidding? The notion of fitting in with a touring band seems utterly ludicrous. She’s not… cool enough, or whatever, for something like this. 

Sure, there’s no doubting that Jackie’s a popular girl. She’s popular, charismatic, and easily liked, but that’s very different from the sharp edges and air of mystery that make someone like Natalie so tailor-made for this. 

Yet, on second thought, Laura Lee doesn’t exactly scream the type either. So, perhaps she can find comfort in that similarity—maybe Jackie doesn't need to break herself into pieces over perceptions and appearances. Wouldn’t that just be trying to force herself into yet another mold? 

God, but isn't it a crazy thing to be worrying about? 

Her hands tremble like leaves in a gale, a palpable resonance of her nervous energy. It’s a symphony of unease and eagerness. The music of it all oscillates between stomach-twisting nausea, and breath-catching excitement. She’s terrified to go, but eager to leave, all at once, and the hurricane wind of those two feelings blows through her body.

The morning slips away as Jackie assembles her belongings, her room transforming into an organized chaos of clothing and essentials. Nat warned her multiple times not to over pack. Something about there not being enough room in the RV for more than one suitcase per person. She tries to keep that in mind, because seriously, it is going to be tight enough with all five of them packed inside, and the band equipment. But it’s as difficult as she expects it to be. 

Kevyn says they’ll be on the road until mid-August. A long time, obviously, so Jackie gathers all of her best outfits. This wardrobe needs to be both cute, and extensive enough to last her for two and a half months. It’s a tough job. 

When all of her necessities are stowed away, Jackie roots around for the things she wants. 

Layers of dust cloak the camera that sits dormant atop her dresser, a physical testament to a year of inactivity. She didn’t even bring it to school with her—it’s not like she did anything worth remembering, anyway—but she grabs it now.

Jackie shoves the camera into her backpack and surveys the room for anything else worth bringing. Her eyes settle on her sound system, tucked in the corner near her bed. A small stack of tapes sit on the top, having never been put back with all the others. She walks over and grabs the first one, knowing already which mix it is. 

(“Happy birthday, Jax. None of my angsty music this time—look, flip it over. I wrote down all of the song titles on the other side.”

Jackie turns the tape over in her hand, squinting at a nearly-ineligible list of artists and titles. “You know, for someone who never stops writing, your handwriting is something else, Shauna.” 

She gets an eye roll for that. 

You Gotta Be by Des’ree is the first track. Jackie hums the chorus, eyes scanning over the remaining tracks. 

“Wait, you listened to Sarah McLachlan for me?” Jackie grins, raising an eyebrow, “and Sheryl Crow? Are you trying to spoil me?” 

Shauna’s got that smug, pleased look on her face, the one she gets when she knows that she did something right. That expression holds one of Jackie’s favorite smiles. She lets her eyes linger there. 

“It’s your birthday. Of course I’m trying to spoil you.” 

“Wowza, you must really love me.” 

“You know I love you.” She crosses her legs and leans back on her hands. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope you like it.”

Jackie slides the tape into the deck. The music starts. She bounces across the room to join Shauna on the bed. With a roll onto her stomach, Jackie drapes a leisurely arm over Shauna’s lap, so their bodies are a touch closer. 

“I love it. I love you. You’re the best, seriously.” Jackie murmurs, her voice a soft, warm whisper against the backdrop of Des’ree’s voice. As she nestles her cheek against the blanket, she tilts her head, gazing up at Shauna from beneath her lashes. “I’ve been bugging you for a new mixtape for months now. It’s exactly what I wanted. Thank you.”)

She doesn’t flip it over—Jackie can’t deal with looking at Shauna’s messy scrawl  right now. Still, it’s with a tender care when she slides it into the protective embrace of her backpack, just next to her camera. 

Is that everything? Jackie takes another circuit around the room, peeking into her bathroom too, before nodding. 

“Alright…” She grabs her backpack. The weight of it settles over her shoulders like a promise. Jackie reaches next for her suitcase, and when she does, her eyes settle on the picture frame near the bed. The one that holds the picture of Van. 

Jackie grabs that, too, and stuffs it into her bag. And then, she thinks… 

Actually. No. She does the opposite. 

She lets the suitcase fall and goes back to her dresser, suppressing all thoughts, and yanking open the top drawer. Her fingers rummage around through her underwear and socks until they clasp around the cool, smooth edges of another polaroid picture, hidden like a precious secret. 

Without looking at it, Jackie slides it into the smaller front pocket of her backpack to join the other important items. 

“Okay.” She says through a sharp exhale. “Now I’m ready.” 

With one last look around, Jackie grabs her suitcase again with a sweaty hand, gathers all of her courage, and walks out the door.

“Are you sure you’re going to be able to handle this?” 

Van’s hair flows out behind them, blown by the wind rushing in through the truck’s open window. They were on the way to Kevyn’s house, where Jackie would meet with him, Nat, and Laura Lee, too. After packing her bags, Jackie called Van and filled them in on her spur-of-the-moment change in summer plans. And—because, again, she can only get around town on foot—she pleaded for a ride, which Van was more than happy to provide.

“No, not really.” Jackie shrugs her shoulders. It’s honest, if nothing else. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I think you’re going to have the time of your life. It’s just… you’ll basically be living in an RV with four other people. For two months.” 

Meeting their stare, Jackie nods. “Yep.”

“One of those people being Randy Walsh…” The skepticism in Van’s tone mirrors Jackie’s unspoken reservations. 

“Yeah…”

Okay, Van does have a point, she acknowledges that. Her mind grapples with the nagging urge to retreat. There’s still time to chicken out. But she was trying hard not to let herself think too much about the potential drawbacks of this decision. Jackie will worry about upcoming annoyances once it was too late to turn back, and not a moment before.

She sighs and looks out the window again. 

A few strands of hair escape her ponytail and blow around her face as they ride through town. The sun-kissed streets of Wiskayok glide past, a languid tapestry of painted tranquility in the early-afternoon air. She props her elbow up and steals a gaze at her reflection in the side mirror. 

Jackie stares blankly into her own eyes, disconnected from herself, like she’s watching a character in a movie. Objects in mirror may be closer than they appear. She isn’t so sure about that.

“You know… I thought you were out of your mind when you first called and asked me for a ride to Kevyn Tan’s house.” Van’s tone is light, but there’s an upward pitch at the end of their voice that tells Jackie they’re building to something. 

She plays along, pressing back against the seat with a smile. “What about now?” 

“I still think you’re crazy, but—I don’t know…” Van shakes their head. Jackie prepares to make her case, worriedly, because if Van really thinks this is a bad idea… then she probably shouldn’t do it, right? But then they turn and grin at Jackie. “It sounds like the fun kind of crazy. The stuff they make movies about. You know?” 

Sunlight floods the car when Van turns onto a different street. It envelopes their faces in glowing gold. They both squint, caught by its bright embrace. Jackie thinks about that and lets her hand drift out of the open window. Her palm hits the wind, face-down and flat, and begins to wave in an up-and-down glide. 

“Yeah. It feels like a movie.” She admits, unable to help the pleased grin that spreads over her face. “I spent the entire night awake just… imagining. How it’s going to be… The things I’ll get to do… Like—in two hours I’ll be on a train to New York. That’s fucking insane, right?” 

“Could be, sure. But maybe that’s not a bad thing. It being insane?” Van glances at her again. “Listen, I love you, Jack. And I know better than anyone how hard this last year was for you—”

Jackie frowns. She pulls her hand from the wind, letting it fall against the side of the car door. 

Van continues. “But, who knows, going on some crazy adventure with the most random group of people will… give you a new outlook, or something.”

She snorts, lip curling upwards in spite of herself. “It really is such a random group, isn’t it?” 

“Are you kidding me? I can’t wait to tell Taissa about it.” Van laughs.” A two month party road trip with Nat and Kevyn is one thing. But also Randy Walsh and Laura Lee? Now that’s wild. I wish I could send a camera crew with you guys.”

Taissa’s name sparks a twinge of routine selfishness, and takes her mind to a pettier place. It’s small-minded of her, but Jackie can’t help but hope that word of her whereabouts makes it back to Shauna.

How’s this for tragic and boring, Shipman?

“I couldn’t believe it either.” Jackie says, their laughter mingling together. “You should have seen my face when they told me. I was all like—” And then she scrambles her face into an overexaggerated expression of shock.

Van reaches over and jabs her playfully on the arm. “Good for them, and for you too. Honestly, I still can’t believe you managed to fool your parents. You’re ridiculous. Palm Beach and the Hamptons? Where else will you be going? The Vineyard?”

She raises her hands in mock surrender, a defiant grin curving her lips. “Hey, as long as they don’t find out the Hampton house is code for the RV of some random older man I’ve never met, I should be good.”

“Is it bad that I’m a little jealous of you?” 

“No. Is it bad that I wish I could bring you with me?” 

Jackie’s serious about that. If Van didn’t have other commitments—their job, mainly, but also Taissa—then she would have begged to bring them along. A sudden surge of affection for Van warms her heart. Jackie leans over and jabs them back in the shoulder.

“Hey!” Van exclaims, “I’m driving here!”

Everything feels so peaceful right now. Jackie wants to bottle the swelling rise of feeling to save for a rainy day.

“This is going to be a good thing.” Her hand weaves back into its wavy glide through the wind. 

“It will be.” Van nods. 

She chews on her bottom lip. “I think I need it to be. It’s—well, you know. This entire last year, it’s been like my brain is broken or something. I’ve never been so—like this. I guess I just need something to change, and get me back to the old me.” The weight of the last year presses on her.

The old Jackie didn’t dwell or wallow like this. But, then again, the old Jackie never would have embraced such an uncharted endeavor. The old Jackie didn’t know shit, apparently. Didn’t know that her best friend hated her, or that her entire plan for college would suck. So, maybe she needs to find the new Jackie. The one who isn’t an idiot. A version of herself that could be happy, because damn if she doesn’t miss that, at least.

“Your brain isn’t broken, Jack.” Van’s voice is a soothing whisper. She looks over—their expression is so sweet that it makes her heart clench. “It’s… you’ve—you’ve been sad, and I know you hate when I phrase it like this, but it’s true, dude. Shauna broke your heart. You’ve had a lot to work through.”

Jackie twists her lips into a wry smile, deflecting the meat of Van’s words to focus on the sides. “Don’t you mean Jeff broke my heart.”

“Ha.” Van’s laugh carries a hint of sarcasm that needles at Jackie’s composure and makes her bristle. “Jeff Sadecki isn’t the person you’ve been crying over for a year. I was there, remember?”

“Woah.” Jackie’s voice wavers, edged with hurt. She frowns, eyebrows knitting together. “Why are you being mean?”

Van sighs, glancing at Jackie out of the corner of their eye. “It’s—I’m… I’m not being mean, Jackie, I’m just… being honest with you, that’s all.” The truck idles beneath the red glow of a stoplight, the hum of the engine mixing in with their conversation. They settle a warm hand on her arm. A silent promise of support. “Shauna broke your heart. It’s what happened, okay? You can admit that. Your brain isn’t broken.”

They’re so earnest about it. She can’t help but thaw out, shoulders loosening so she can sink back into the seat. “I know. But sometimes it feels like it is.”

“I know it does.” 

As the light turns green, Van withdraws their arm and eases the truck back into motion. 

“So… you really think I should do this, then? That it will be good for me?” Jackie asks, anxious over the thought of returning to another year just like the last.

“I don’t know if it’ll be good for you.” Van shrugs. “But yeah, I think you should do it, anyway. It’s worth a shot, right? And—not trying to be mean here, seriously—but it’s not like you have much else going on this summer. Am I wrong?” 

Jackie bursts out laughing, shaking her head, and pressing a hand to her knee. “No, no… you’re totally right. Haha, fuck, I’m so pathetic.”

“Nooo!” Van exclaims, stretching out the word, even as they laugh alongside Jackie. “You’re just—you need to get through some character development. It’s a hero’s arc, like in the movies, and you’re only at the beginning—okay, how about this, have you seen American Graffiti? The George Lucas movie?”

“No.” 

“Oh. Okay… Well—we need to watch that when you get back, because it’s a good one. But—” 

She smiles. 

Van’s doing that thing they do—Jackie refers to it as narration mode—where they straighten their spine and sit up high; voice deeper, more serious, and demanding to be taken seriously. Like they’re parting major wisdom. Which, she’ll be honest, Van is sometimes known to do.

“It’s about this boy, his name is Curt. Richard Dreyfus plays him. So, Curt is about to leave for college. But you see, he’s feeling lost. Questioning his choices… worrying about if he’s making the right decisions, you know?” 

Jackie nods. She’s been there.

“Anyway, it’s the night before he’s supposed to leave for college, and Curt is having a time of it. Wandering all over his small town, filled with angst and woe, you know how it goes. At one point, he goes to a diner, where he meets this wise, older man.”

“Oh—are you supposed to be the wise old man?” Jackie can’t help but cut in, teeth showing in her grin when she faces Van’s glare. 

“Of course, Jackie. Duh. Now stop interrupting.” Van says, all serious, but with an undercut of amusement in their eyes.

“Sorry, continue.”

“Where was I? Oh, yeah—So, Curt asks the old man for advice. Basic stuff, like: have you ever regretted your life choices? Did you ever struggle to achieve a dream? Things like that.”

She’s never loved Van more than she does right then. My best friend, she thinks, mushy with appreciation. 

“And the old man tells Curt—hmm, well, actually, I don’t remember exactly what he says. It’s been awhile since I watched the movie. But, basically, it’s something like he needs to get his head out of his ass and stop settling for a sad life. Seize the day, or whatever, go for it.” 

“What does that have to do with me?” 

“Go for it, Jackie.” She expected Van to roll their eyes at her intentional missing of the point, but they surprise her with another earnest look. “You’re always living your life for other people, and yeah, that’s part of what I love about you, because you care so much—like, I don’t understand it sometimes. But it also means that you’re really terrible about caring about yourself, too.” 

Van’s words, empathetic as they are, leave her too raw and vulnerable. She can’t take it, sinking her teeth into her lip as she tries to battle the mounting pressure beginning to pulse in her throat. 

“So. Yeah.” Van shrugs. “This is… probably insane. You definitely haven’t thought it through. But you should do it. For you.” 

“Stop it.” Jackie says, voice trembling with a dose of whiny affection. She gives in and lets a few tears fall. “You’re making me cry. God—you really are a wise old man. I fucking hate you. But, really, she loves them, and she knows Van knows it too.

“Promise you’ll call me now and then? I want to hear about all of the wild shit you get up to.” 

Jackie’s grin spreads like a sunrise. There’s a flutter in her stomach that she recognizes for what it is. Excitement. 

“I promise. I’ll send you postcards, too. And I packed my camera, so I can send you some pictures.” Jackie leans over the center console to rest her head against Van’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you. Like, seriously, you’re my best fucking friend. I never thought I would say that about anyone else after Shauna, but it’s true.” 

Van puts a hand over their heart. Jackie can already see the beginning of a joke forming on their lips, but she notices a faint pink blush, coloring their cheeks. “Well, I’m honored. You’re my best friend too. And I promise… nay, I swear, on my life. I will never, ever have sex with your boyfriend.” 

And damn, if Van isn’t the one person who could always make her laugh about the things that make her want to cry. 

“Wow. I think that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Jackie sniffs and wipes away a nonexistent tear. “You’re going to make me cry again.”

Jackie leans casually against the weathered side of Kevyn’s Ford Escort, gaze fixating on Van as they melt into Laura Lee’s embrace. 

Nat lingers a few steps away, her hands comfortably tucked into the pockets of her faded jeans. Her lips curve in a half-smile, revealing the faintest hint of a dimple on her cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re really in a band.” Van says, pulling away from Laura Lee. They shake their head incredulously. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome. I’m excited for you. But it’s.. definitely not what I expected you to be doing over the summer.” 

“Trust me, it’s still weird for me, too.” A tender smile graces Laura Lee’s face. Her daze flickers over to Nat and Kevyn. There’s a bond of shared history simmering between them that Jackie wants to pull open so she can look inside.

“You’ve always been cool, Laura Lee.” Van points at her, a proud smile on their face like a badge. “And I swear, I always knew you were going to blow us out of the water after high school. But this… playing the bass… Ugh—” They snap their fingers. “I should have put money on it.”

“Oh, she’s definitely the coolest one of all of us.” Kevyn crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s partly why we made her our George Harrison.” 

Van’s eyes light up at the reference, and they turn to Kevyn with a grin. “Laura Lee as George? Oh, I love that. You’ve gotta tell me about the others.” 

It’s cute, Jackie thinks, how excited everyone is. 

When they pulled up to the driveway next to Kevyn’s cozy front yard, the three of them were waiting outside next to a sprawling oak tree, bags already packed into the car that would be taking them to the train station, eager matching smiles on all of their faces. By the time Jackie finishes adding her own suitcase to the rest, she’s sporting an identical grin. 

After Kevyn and Van finish rehashing the band members and their respective match to the Beatles, Nat steps forward, her features dappled by sunlight streaming through the tree’s rustling leaves. She taps Kevyn on the shoulder. “Hey, didn’t your mom want us to fill up the gas in the car before we go to the train station?”

“Oh. Ugh—yeah. Let me go talk to her.” Kevyn turns to Van. “It was good to see you again. Hopefully I’ll catch you around at the end of the summer.” He flashes everyone a smile and then jogs up the lawn to his front door.

The door swings closed behind him, the resonating clang a punctuation mark to the moment, leaving the four ex-teammates standing together in a close knit circle.

Van sighs, glancing between them. “I’m super jealous of you guys, but I hope you have a great time. This is a weird, Breakfast Club ass group you’ve got here. It’s kind of adorable.”

Jackie giggles, stepping forward for one last hug. “I’ll miss you. Please have a good summer.”

“Be safe.” Van whispers in her ear, squeezing tighter. “And have so much fun.” 

The lump in her throat feels like a large marble, almost impossible to swallow—two and a half months is a long time when you’re used to every day, and that she won’t see Van for that long is just now hitting her. So, yeah, she starts to cry. But only a little, and mostly happy tears, anyway. 

“Alright, you crazy kids… be safe, but also the fun kind of stupid! I’ll see you in a few months!” 

Van reverses back out into the street, waves one last time out the window, and then rolls off down the street. 

Nobody says anything when Jackie reaches up to wipe the moisture from her eyes, and when she turns to them with a watery smile on her face, they take it for what it is.

A hushed stillness envelopes the remaining three, as if time itself is holding its breath in anticipation of their next move. Jackie savors the bittersweet moment, her quietude punctuated by the hum of cicadas. It tastes just like the humid smell of summer air. 

Nat pulls out her pack of cigarettes with the casual ease of someone embracing a cherished ritual. She places one between her lips and smiles at Jackie from around the filter. The glint in her eyes draws Jackie in and calms her nerves. 

“I honestly wasn’t sure if you were going to show or not.” Nat says, lighting her cigarette. When the ember glows orange, she plucks it from her mouth and holds it out to Jackie. “Want one?” 

“Sure. Thank you.” Jackie takes it. The pad of her thumb lingers on the end of the filter, just slightly damp from the moisture of Natalie’s lips. “I wasn’t sure if I would or not either. But here I am. Do you regret inviting me?” 

“No.” Nat shakes her head and pulls out a second cigarette for herself. “Not yet, anyway.”

Laura Lee steps closer, her head finding a comfortable perch on Jackie’s shoulder. She holds her cigarette at a respectful distance, leaning into the affection. Whatever nerves she had earlier that day were melting away with every second spent with her… friends? Which—yes, obviously, but the label still sits weird in her mind.

“Are you excited, Jackie?” Laura Lee asks, voice brimming with genuine curiosity. It acts like a conduit for the anticipation thrumming through Jackie’s veins. 

“Yes.” Jackie says. To say the absolute least. She’s excited, fucking terrified, and filled with hope, all at once. “I think I’m a little nervous too.”

“Don’t be stressed, dude. It’s going to be so much fun.” Nat flicks ash off the end of her cigarette. “You’re going to have a fucking blast. I promise.”

Jackie really hopes so. 

Longing flickers like a fragile flame in her chest. She continues to look at Nat, as if seeking reassurance, or silently pleading for this promised adventure to become a reality. 

“So… get this.” Jackie says confessionally, with a hint of mischief threading through her expression. “I told my parents that I was spending the summer with one of my sorority sisters. They think that I’m going to Palm Beach, and then the Hamptons.”

“And they believed you?” Nat snickers. “Geez.”

The stop at the gas station was supposed to be quick and easy. Just a quick errand at Kevyn’s mother’s request, and an opportunity to stock up on snacks while they did it. At least, it would have been, she was a luckier person. 

Jackie hands over a $10 bill, flashing a smile at the cashier while he counts out her change. She grabs her bag of chips and her bottle of water and tucks them under one arm. Under the other, she stows Laura Lee’s lemonade and trail mix.

“See you in the car?” She asks Kevyn. 

He steps up to the counter after her and sets down a few Snickers bars, as well as a sleeve of frosted donuts for Natalie. “Yeah, sure, meet you there.” 

Beyond the glass doors, Jackie can see Nat and Laura Lee inside Kevyn’s car, talking animatedly about something. The edge of her lips quirk up. She buzzes with excitement at the idea of knowing this is the last box to be checked before they can officially say that the tour has started. She doesn’t even mind that Kevyn’s been in a grumpy mood ever since returning from talking with his mom. 

(“Why should I have to pay for gas I’m not going to use? I just know she’s going to let my brother drive it the entire time I’m gone.”)

The others didn’t seem to care about his sudden bad mood anymore than she did. At first, Nat had rolled her eyes. But then after he’d slumped his shoulders and made to get into the car, she waved a joint in his face. “We’re going to need snacks for the train ride anyway, doofus.”

He seems to be in a better mood now that they’re actually here, snacks in hand. 

She uses her hips to push open the door, leaving Kevyn there at the counter. She steps out in the sunlight and automatically lifts up one hand to block it from her eyes. Nat catches her eye from the car, and she’s saying something, but… Jackie can’t hear her. Before she can focus on trying to read her lips, a car pulls up right in front of her and blocks her view. 

Her eyes follow it on instinct at first, but it takes only a second for her to realize—she knows that frame. That familiar paint job has a scratch on the second door, a slight discoloration that Jackie put there herself, that one time she’d backed the car up against the side of an unassuming mailbox. It sends alarm bells ringing throughout her head. 

And then her arms go slack. “Oh,” she whispers. All of her snacks tumble down her body, spilling onto the ground. “Shit.”

Fucking embarrassing, right? 

Way to play it cool, Jackie. She can’t help but chastise herself. 

Shauna Shipman’s eyes, usually so guarded, now go wide with raw astonishment. Every curve and line of her face is so familiar to Jackie. Her slightly parted lips, and the quivering breath she sucks into her chest—it’s memory, and fantasy, and a nightmare for Jackie, all wrapped up into one frozen moment.  

Her fingers seem to possess a life of their own. They grip onto the steering wheel with an intensity that turns her knuckles a stark shade of white. It’s obvious that she’s just as shocked to see Jackie as Jackie is to see her. It’s the first time they’ve looked at each other since last summer.

Jackie’s breath catches in her throat. Her eyelashes flutter, but she doesn’t look away. Can’t—really, is the proper word. 

Each nerve ending in her body thrums with a recognition and a yearning she hoped she’d buried, but knew that she hadn’t. This is so much worse than yesterday at the pawn shop. That was Jackie’s secret, and Shauna was none the wiser. But this moment was shared between them and though it’s only been two seconds, her mind is already slower, sticky like molasses, and buzzing with the weight of memory and regret. 

She didn’t have any time to prepare—to pull all of her anger into a single basket, to make a weapon out of it, or perhaps more accurately, a shield. And Jackie isn’t sure that she could have, anyway, even if she did have the time. Today is too… unpredictable. She’s been emotional, and thoughtful, and scared at various points in the last three hours. One could argue it’s left her volatile; a champagne bottle that’s been corked too long, fizzing with pent up anticipation. 

So, she’s left with a few options. Fight, or flight, of course. But those have never really worked for Jackie, anyway. She goes with freeze. 

The saving grace? Shauna seems equally ensnared in this trap. Neither have moved. Both stare. It’s uncomfortable to look into her eyes again. Her anger hasn’t dulled, nor her hurt. 

(Why can’t you just tell me why?)

But the longing—the ever present desire to be near Shauna… that remains too, and it also hasn’t dulled, but sharpened, becoming something that stabs her in the heart every time she has Shauna on the brain. 

They’re stuck together, trapped in this freeze frame. Jackie wonders which of them will be the first to break. To flee. 

Or to fight.

She’ll never find out. Unfortunately, that’s the way life goes. As is often the case, fate takes matters into its own hands. In this moment, fate takes the form of Kevyn Tan, who pushes open the door right into Jackie’s back. 

Jackie trips forward, and nearly falls, but Kevyn rushes to grab her by the shoulders, holding her steady. 

“Oh, shit—Jackie, my bad.” 

Her Doritos are probably crushed into bits after getting stomped on in her stumble. She blinks down at the bag, and then up to Kevyn, dazed. 

The sound of a car door opening and slamming shut rings in her ears. Jackie turns her head. 

Shauna is walking towards her, an arm outstretched, looking for all the world like no time has passed at all. She’s got that look on her face: angry and worried all at once. It makes something blaze sweet and resentful in Jackie’s chest. 

“Watch where you’re going.” Shauna snaps, settling her glare on Kevyn, who hasn’t even noticed her yet. The protective side of Shauna was something Jackie used to relish. She still does, if the deep rush of heat flooding her chest is any indication.

He’s on the ground, collecting Jackie’s fallen items and shoving them into the bag with his own purchases. 

It shouldn’t feel like a victory, but it does. 

Kevyn stands up and looks at Jackie. Shauna pauses mid-step. “I’m sorry, dude, I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s alright, I’m fine. Thanks, uh, for picking up my stuff.” Jackie flashes him a shaky smile. 

She can see Shauna from the corner of her eye. But even if she were blind, Jackie would fucking sense her. It’s like a spidey-tingle, or whatever, something out of a science fiction movie. The hair on the back of her neck rises, perceiving a predator, which is probably not too off the mark. 

Kevyn looks beyond her, and she can see on his face the moment he registers another person. 

“Oh—” His eyes dart over to Jackie. Something shutters behind his eyes. When he looks back at Shauna, his tone is rigid and cold, suddenly stiff. “Hey, Shauna.”

Jackie doesn’t turn. She stays locked in place. But even after a year she doesn’t need to see Shauna to see her. She can picture her perfectly in her mind’s eye, teeth clenched, brown eyes dark and questioning. The way her lips part and curl around the wind of her next words.

“Uh, hey, Kevyn.” 

It’s obvious that she doesn’t know what to make of Jackie and Kevyn obviously being here together. Later, she’ll be smug about that, but for now, Jackie lets the rain shower of Shauna’s voice wash over her body. 

“Good to see you.” Kevyn gives Shauna a curt, dismissive nod, but when he looks back at Jackie, his expression softens, unfolding into a warm smile. “So… you ready to go?” 

With a jolt, she realizes what’s happening here, and affection for Kevyn Tan (seriously, something she never thought she would think) swells like a balloon in her heart. 

“Jackie.” Shauna says. 

The balloon pops. 

Jackie looks over at Kevyn’s car, where Nat and Laura Lee stare at them from the window, entirely unashamed, and then back to Shauna.

Selfishly, she enjoys the confusion written all over Shauna’s face. Let her wonder what Jackie’s doing. She should be confused. Jackie wants her to be puzzled, to stew about what might be happening with Kevyn, Nat, and Laura Lee. 

She takes a breath, and just like flipping on a switch, pulls herself together. 

“Yeah, let’s go.” She flashes Kevyn a false smile, and turns away from Shauna. It takes some self-control not to run to the car, but somehow, she does it. 

Laura Lee is waiting for her in the backseat, wide-eyed. “Are you alright?” 

All of the air in Jackie’s lungs is expelled in one pushing swoop, but she finds the strength to nod. “Yes, I think so.” And to her happy surprise, it isn’t a lie. She is alright.  

Natalie is still staring at Shauna through the window, but at the sound of Jackie’s voice, she turns around and peers into the backseat, lips twisting into a rueful smile. “I know that probably sucked, but don’t even worry about it, alright? We’ve got our first show tonight, and it’s going to be sick. Focus on that.”

Jackie nods. 

Kevyn starts the car up when the attendant gives him the go-ahead and pulls out of the gas station. 

Unable to help herself, Jackie turns around and peers out the back window. 

Shauna is still standing in the same spot that Jackie left her in. When they meet each other’s eyes for the final time, her insides go soft and bitter, then hard and affectionate. 

Something about the moment brings Shauna back to life. She lifts up her hand and waves. 

Jackie’s breath catches in her throat. What does that mean? She’s drunk on the sight of it. Her body reacts before her mind can understand what’s going on. 

She waves back, wondering if it’s a hello, or a goodbye.

An hour and a half later, they’re walking through the train station in New Brunswick—the very town she’d spent the entire last year in. The irony isn’t lost on Jackie. 

She’s quiet, the weight of the day muffling any desire to engage in chatter with the others. 

Her mind keeps returning to the gas station, still reeling from that brief interaction with Shauna. She plays the memory forward and backwards, ripping it apart and then putting it all back together again. Shauna’s penetrating gaze, the wave, and all the unspoken words between them. 

What does it mean?

Over the last year, anger and hurt had morphed Shauna into a haunting specter in Jackie’s thoughts, repeating like a broken record: I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. This larger-than-life figure. A looming presence. As critical as her mother, but a million times more cutting. It was easy to do that after months and months of not seeing her face in anything but the pictures Jackie hid away in her drawer. With distance, Jackie could mold Shauna into whatever suited her narrative: a liar, a boyfriend-fucker, and the only person who’s ever broken Jackie’s heart. 

But in person, the imagined monster fades, replaced by the undeniable reality that Shauna Shipman is still the most important figure in Jackie’s life.

Shauna’s image refuses to fade. Jackie thinks of full, pink lips, once curled in a smile just for her, now frowning. And her dark eyes, once so soft with secrets shared between them, now clouded with surprised confusion when Kevyn knocks into her with the swing of an opening door. 

That didn’t look like the face of someone who supposedly hated her. But then again—what did she know? Wasn’t she the idiot who didn’t realize how much her best friend had grown to hate her?

Her eyes slide across the floor, coming to a lazy stop on Natalie and Laura Lee’s feet. They guide her along as she follows behind them, lost in thought, and not paying attention to where they’re going. 

“Hey.” Kevyn says, falling into step beside her. Jackie nearly jumps at his sudden appearance. “I just wanted to say sorry again for hitting you with that door earlier.” 

“Oh. Uh—it’s alright.” Was he still worrying about that? She’d forgotten all about it as soon as it happened. Still, she flashes him a reassuring smile. “It wasn’t that hard. I’m fine.” 

“Cool.” He says with a nod. He runs a hand through his hair, and sympathy suddenly twists up his features. “Was that, uh—the uh, the first time you’ve seen Shauna? Since everything went down?”

She immediately bristles, bothered by the pity that’s bleeding out between his syllables and spaces, and trying to decide how she should react to it. Her first instinct is to hate it. 

Jackie narrows her eyes and prepares to remind Kevyn that her history with Shauna Shipman is none of his damn business. But then she remembers that sudden chill in his voice when he spoke to Shauna, the way he’d angled himself to stand just slightly between them. He’s on my side.

“It was.” She softens, nodding. Best to take the question with grace. “Since last summer, actually.”

A year wasn’t nearly enough time to dull the pull that Shauna had on Jackie’s psyche. Obviously. The call of it rang in her head constantly, an insistent nagging voice, determined to be listened to. She missed Shauna’s voice. She missed hearing her own name in Shauna’s mouth. And most of all, missed it being out of care and concern—protection, even more. 

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing we were there, right?” Kevyn bumps his arm against hers and grins. “Like, I bet she’s wondering about what you could possibly be doing with us, of all people. Good, I say.” He says, conspiratorially. “Let her.” 

 “Yeah.” Jackie grins bubbly and infectious. Hadn’t she thought the same thing herself? She giggles, but it quickly becomes a full laugh. “I hope she’s so confused.” 

“I bet she thinks we’re giving you drugs.” Kevyn snickers.

“Ooh, I hope so.”

“Hey, guys! Over here!”

Next to a brick pillar and a plain black suitcase stands Randy Walsh, waving a beckoning fist in their direction. 

He looks about the same as he used to in high school, except his hair is just a little bit longer, and now he’s got it spiked up with hair gel. The grin on his face is still wide and easy, the way it’s been for as long as Jackie’s known him. (Which—that’s a long time. They’d been in school together since kindergarten.) His jeans are still torn and baggy, shirt still stained, and labeled with a band that Jackie’s never heard of before. 

For a moment, she almost expects Jeff to step up from behind him. The thought curdles in her mouth. 

“Hi, Randy.” Jackie says, once she’s close enough for him to see her. 

“Jackie, hey! Dude, it’s been so long.” 

“Yeah, a year, right? Wow—that’s crazy. How have you been?” 

“Aw, man, I’ve been so good. I got a job as a bar-back in town, back at Christmas time. It’s been fun.” He grins. “But obviously, I’m taking the summer off.” 

Randy’s smile widens to the point of comedy. Jackie squints. It was no wonder that Shauna would get so mad every time she tried to set her up with him. He was so unfailingly enthusiastic. She’d forgotten about that. Definitely not Shauna’s type. 

No, that was Jeff, she thinks bitterly. (And—no, wait, Shauna said she didn’t even like him, remember?) 

“That’s awesome, Randy.” 

They all begin the walk to the train platform, suitcases dragging behind them. Jackie slips back into her quiet contemplation, feeling the allure of Shauna tugging once again at her thoughts. (Why did she wave? Why did Jackie wave back?) 

She prepares to run headfirst down the rabbit hole again, but before she gets the chance… 

“Jackie?” 

It’s Randy again, quiet now, looking oddly serious, like he’s trying to be intentionally formal in his approach. 

“Yeah?” 

He leans down to duck closer to Jackie’s height. “I just, uh, wanted to make sure that you and I are all good. Y’know, about the whole Jeff thing. Because, like, don’t get me wrong—Jeff’s my boy, I love the guy. But I’m not on his side about what he did to you.” 

It’s so wildly out of left field that Jackie finds herself at a loss for words. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, before settling on an eloquent, “What?” 

Randy continues, impervious to her reaction. “I just don’t want you to think I was all like hell yeah, dude when I found out about it. I totally didn’t approve.”

“Well, that’s… I guess—uhm… I appreciate it?”

“And I swear I didn’t know anything about it. If I had, I would have—I dunno, told him to stop it, I guess. Personally, I don’t know what he was thinking. Like, I never would have cheated on you, even if Shauna is really hot—”

Before Jackie has to even worry about coming up with a reply for that, Nat comes to the rescue.
 
She punches Randy in his shoulder. “Dude, how about we stop talking about exes? You’re kind of killing the vibe.”

“Oh, my bad. Sorry, Jackie.” She smiles to let him know that it’s all fine. “Anyway, I’m glad you’re coming with us. It’s going to be a blast.” 

Then he meanders off to talk to Kevyn, and the day continues. 

They board the train. Jackie sits next to Laura Lee in a pair of seats facing Nat and Kevyn. Randy’s forced to sit alone across the aisle.

“It’s fine guys,” he jokes, as he puts his feet up on the seats across from him. “I totally wanted to sit with the suitcases.”

The train begins to move, and Jackie watches out the window as New Jersey flies by in a rushing blur of trees, concrete, and office buildings. She lets her head rest against the glass and her knee taps against Laura Lee’s leg. The rattle makes her teeth chatter

“So,” Jackie asks through the vibration in her jaw. “The first show is tonight?” 

Nat nods. 

She tries to imagine it; the stage, the lights, the crowd. What color will Natalie’s guitar be? Laura Lee’s bass? Which—that reminds her… 

“Wait. This is probably a dumb question, but where is all of your… gear, or whatever?” 

“Already in New York.” Randy answers, clenching his fists around imaginary drumsticks and smashing them against his knee. 

“We drove them up to my uncle’s last week.” Kevyn says over the sound of Randy making cymbal noises with his mouth. “Figured it would be smart to do that so we wouldn’t have to carry it all on the train.” 

That makes sense. Jackie couldn’t tell you anything about the equipment needed for a band, but she imagines that it’s a lot. 

She’s thinking about that when Nat extends her leg to tap her foot against Jackie’s ankle. “Hey. You ready to have fun tonight, Taylor?” 

Jackie feels another rush of warmth. It’s affection, so strange and new, for these people. Breakfast Club ass group, Van had called them. 

She smiles. Maybe that’s a good thing. 

Already, she’s happier than she’s been in months. 

Happier than she’s been since Shauna and Jeff ripped the rug of her life right out from underneath her. 

“Yep.” Jackie said, still holding Nat’s gaze. “Sure am.”

Kevyn’s uncle is a certifiable, washed-up hippie. 

Jackie can’t decide how she feels about him. He’s rude—but not to her. Hilarious—in a mean, inappropriate way. Abrasive—but also extremely giving.

What Jackie can decide, is that she thinks he’s got the most interesting looking house that she’s ever seen. 

The man in question is sitting in a round, wicker chair on the porch of a colorfully painted (some might say tacky) brownstone, with a joint in one hand, and a beer in the other. 

Jackie blinks up at the building. If she hadn’t already been informed that this man was in the center of sixties themed sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, then she would know just by looking at this house. For one, the path they’re currently walking up is covered entirely in mosaic tile. And in contrast to the relatively uniform maroon colored brick, this one is painted in every color of the rainbow. Her parents would absolutely hate it—hell, her mother would make it her life’s mission to see it buckle to conformity. An HOA army of one. She can’t help but think that Van would love it, though. 

Her camera is currently packed away, but Jackie makes a note to take a picture of it before they leave the city. 

“Uncle Ken, what’s up!” Nat shouts, even though they’re only five feet away. 

“Is that my dumbass nephew and his shithead friends?” He—Uncle Ken, apparently—shouts back. “Well, damn, there goes my good day.” 

“Oh, shut up, old man. You love us.” Kevyn laughs as he jogs up the steps. Jackie does the opposite, shrinking to a stop and edging to stand behind Laura Lee, while also trying not to look like she’s hiding. Even though she definitely is. 

“Love you? I’m trying to get rid of you. Why do you think I’m even letting you borrow that piece of crap RV?” Uncle Ken—which, ugh, she really needs something else to refer to him as, because that just feels weird—laughs, and takes another puff from his joint. 

“Aw, and I thought it was because you want to see us achieve our dreams.” Natalie clicks her tongue and fake pouts as she follows Kevyn up the stoop to pluck the joint from Uncle Ken’s hands. “Now I’m all sad.” 

Jackie feels out of place watching the easy familiarity between them. She’s the odd one out, there’s no doubt about it. Her feet don’t move and her shoulders droop, losing confidence. But before she can begin to worry they’ll notice, Laura Lee grabs her by the hand and tugs her along. 

“Sad, my ass.” Uncle Ken scoffs, gulping down more beer. His tone is rough and grating, but a smile forms on his wrinkled face. “You couldn’t use a pressure washer to wipe that grin off your face.”

Nat only smiles wider, not even bothering to protest. 

Despite Jackie’s attempt to remain unnoticed, the old man’s eyes land on her all the same. Maybe he notices her anxiety, or that there’s something different about her from the rest, because he’s considerably more polite this time around. 

“Kevyn, are you planning on introducing me to this nice young lady here, or have you forgotten your manners?” 

Before Kevyn can respond, Nat jumps in. “Uncle Ken, this is Jackie, my friend from high school. Jackie, this is Uncle Ken.” 

Jackie puts on her best smile—the one she uses for authority figures she wants to impress. It’s never failed her before. She walks up the steps with a false, but convincing, confidence and holds her hand out for him to shake. “Hi. Jackie Taylor. I played soccer with Nat. And Kevyn and I had world history together back in sophomore year.” 

“Oh, yeah.” Kevyn says, taking the joint from Natalie. “I totally forgot about that.” 

“Forgive him. His mother dropped him on his head four times the day she brought him home from the hospital. Clearly, he’s never recovered.” He sighs, and gives her hand a firm shake. “Kenji Tan, but everyone calls me Ken, or Uncle Ken. Up to you what you choose. It’s nice to meet you.” 

She smiles. “It’s nice to meet you too, Ken.” Just Ken. That fits easier in Jackie’s mouth. Much more her style.

Ken gives her a nod and then looks back at Kevyn. He reaches out and makes a pinching motion for the joint. “Alright, how about you all bring your suitcases into the house, and I’ll go find the keys to my truck. I don’t want you driving the RV around the city while you’re here—streets are too small. You can drive my car to your gigs in the meantime.” 

Kevyn’s eyes light up. “Wait—for real? We get to drive the Chevy?” 

“Yes, the Chevy.” Ken downs the rest of his beer, crunches the can with his fist, and then tosses it into a garbage bin on the ground next to his feet. “And I want you to listen closely, you cocky motherfucker. If you bring my baby back with a single scratch, I’ll fucking kill you.” 

Jackie raises an eyebrow, surprised by the aggression, but Kevyn shrugs it off with the practiced ease of someone dealing with a routine family quirk. She looks over at Laura Lee, who meets her eyes with a knowing smile. 

“I promise to bring your car back in one piece. On my honor.” Kevyn holds up one hand, as if preparing to testify under oath. 

Nat does the same. “Me too.” 

Randy’s in the process of lifting his own hand for a promise, but Ken cuts him off. 

“I don’t give a single shit what you three promise.” He looks over at Laura Lee and Jackie. “You two, however, seem like you’ve got decent heads on your shoulders. Can you keep an eye on these idiots?” 

They promise that they will, and then that’s it. They bring their bags into the house, load their band equipment into the back of the truck, and then pile inside. 

“So…” Jackie says, from the back-middle seat. She leans forward over the center console. “Your uncle is a sweet guy.” 

Kevyn snorts, meeting her eyes in the rearview. “Oh, yeah, the sweetest. But… he really is amazing. He’s prickly, but he cares about people. And we wouldn’t be able to do this if it weren’t for him.” 

Jackie turns to look out the window. Ken’s back in his wicker chair, rolling up another joint. “Yeah. I think I really like him.”

Today marks Jackie’s first time being inside of a bar. 

It wasn’t like she’d never had the opportunity before, especially being in a sorority. More than once, the older girls tried to bring her along. And plenty of fraternity brothers offered to help score her a fake ID. She never took them up on it, always finding some excuse or another to stay in her dorm. Maybe she should have gone—for one, so that today wouldn’t be the first time. But also… it could have made a difference, right? Perhaps she might have actually made a true friend with a girl in her chapter. And maybe she might have found a fraternity boy that she could actually tolerate going on a date with. Which, yeah, doubtful, but still. 

This place isn’t at all what she had in mind when Natalie described it to her on the drive over. 

It’s better. 

(Nat’s lips curl around the filter of a Camel Blue. “It’s a pretty chill place. It’s got kind of an artsy vibe.”) 

Her mind had conjured up something dark and poetic—a hub for broody poets and jazz lovers, like the sort of places Shauna used to fantasize about with a wistful excitement when they talked about the future. An establishment with dim lighting, and tall round tables filled with mysterious patrons holding cocktails that she didn’t know the names of. 

Immediately, she was intimidated, worried that she would stick out like a sore thumb among a crowd of people who were actually supposed to be there. 

Shauna would probably fit in, she’d thought, while nestled comfortably between Nat and Laura Lee in the backseat of the Chevy. Artsy was her thing, after all. 

But when she steps through the front door, hot on Randy’s heels, she finds it anything but intimidating. If anything, it’s… cute. 

An employee greets Kevyn from behind the bar. Clearly, they’re old friends, though Jackie couldn’t tell you anything about their history. It takes a minute for her eyes to adjust to the sudden change from bright-evening sun to the darkened glow inside. 

“Oh, wow.” Laura Lee says. 

And, like, yeah. Agreed. 

Her fears of a pretentious local music scene are laid to rest. That humming excitement returns, lighting her up from her fingers to her toes. The atmosphere inside is warm, inviting, and the stage in the back corner greets her with a beaming spotlight that shines on an empty stool resting in front of a microphone. 

All over the walls is an explosion of color, art, and eclectic decoration that has Jackie itching once again for her camera. 

Maybe it is pretentious, but in a fun way. 

Along the back wall is a large, graffiti-style mural that depicts the cityscape of Brooklyn. It stretches out behind the stage, painted in bold, blue strokes and vivid, pink hues, depicting famous people from the area, and notable landmarks of the borough. Behind the bar hangs a collection of framed paintings. Jackie’s never seen any of them before. If she had to guess, she’d say they were the work of local artists. And between all of the artwork are vintage movie posters, flyers promoting events long past, and pictures of the bartenders, musicians, and people she presumes to be regulars.

A slow grin spreads across her face. 

“What do you think?” 

Jackie turns around. Natalie’s watching her with a small smirk. 

The simple question puts a lump in her throat. She reaches up and touches the necklace that rests against her chest. When she speaks, her voice is thick to her own ears, filled with water and weight. “I—I love it. Seriously. Thank you for inviting me.” 

Nat goes all bashful, shuffling around and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her ripped up jeans. “You don’t have to keep thanking me.” 

“I know that.” Jackie says. “But I want to.” 

“It wasn’t just me. It was all of us. But, yeah—I dunno. I guess I’m glad you’re here, or whatever.” 

She tilts her head. “I’m still confused by that.” 

“What do you mean?”

Jackie gives her a pointed look. “Well, I wasn’t always the greatest friend to you back in high school.” 

In the weeks following Implosion Day, Jackie went down a dark spiral of hateful self-reflection, and had concluded that she wasn’t nearly as good of a person as she previously thought she was. How could she be, if she’d pushed Shauna to the point of such bitter resentment that she resorted to sleeping with Jackie’s boyfriend, all just to feel seen?

(“I know you didn't mean it that way.” Van reassures, looking at Jackie over the top of their calculus textbook. “But, yeah, ‘you don’t sweat much for a boyish girl’ didn’t exactly make me feel all that great about myself.”) 

That’s a minor example, and really, she hadn’t meant it the way that it sounded, but you get the idea, right?

She never realized how similar to her mother she could be. It fucking terrified her. Is this how Cindy felt? Did she not understand or hear the hidden insults in her advice and her compliments? Was Jackie destined to turn into that? Maybe not—she’s been working on being better, more mindful with her words. Nevertheless, the possibility looms over her like the blade of a guillotine. 

And Natalie, especially, was a victim of some of Jackie’s more awful comments. 

(“I love how you don’t care about how you look or dress.” Jackie says, smiling at Nat from across the locker room. “I wish I had that kind of confidence.”)

But instead of validating Jackie’s shame, Natalie only shrugs. “It’s all good. I wasn’t exactly the picture of sweetness myself.” 

A blatant falsehood if Jackie’s ever heard one.

Sure, Natalie Scatorccio was never known for her cheery disposition. But she was never mean, at least not without reason or provocation. And she was kind when it counted most. Case in point—she’d let Jackie get inside that car. 

“You don’t have to lie.” Jackie smiles. “You can say it. I could be a bitch.” 

“I’m not lying.” Natalie laughs. “Seriously, you weren’t that bad.” 

Jackie squints. “Are you sure? Because if I remember correctly…” 

“Okay, sure, could you be a little self-centered? Yes. But you always meant well. Even if some of your comments were a little backhanded.” 

“Still, I’m sorry for how I treated you.” 

“Whatever, man.” Nat rolls her eyes. “If I say I forgive you, can we stop talking about it?” 

“Sure.”

“Fine. I forgive you.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” 

A moment of quiet passes between them. They share an awkward look, both not used to this dynamic. Natalie lifts her hand and scratches at the back of her neck, glancing over her shoulder at the front door, where the Chevy still sits outside. 

“Wanna help me bring in the equipment before someone steals all of our shit?”

“Yes, definitely.” Jackie says, eager to help. She may not be a part of the band, but she can still make herself useful. “Lead the way.”

She still can’t believe she’s here right now.

Like—what the fuck? 

The heat of the sun beats down on her, and though it’s causing her to sweat, Jackie doesn’t mind. The temperature roots her to the moment, and a mindful peace wraps around her brain, sticking to her thoughts like the moisture that gathers at her hairline. 

Jackie is at a bar in New York City. A really fucking cool bar, at that. She just finished carrying in equipment for a band. A band made up of the strangest combination of people she’s ever seen in her life. And not only that, but she’s about to venture off across the country with said band, and strange people. 

There’s no telling how this is going to go, but she has a good feeling. 

(And, between you and me, she’s right to have that feeling. Jackie is standing on the precipice of something huge. Years from now, she’ll remember how she feels today. The weight of it will have her wrapping an arm around Natalie’s shoulder to pull her in closer. They’ll reflect on the wild idea that everything she thought to be true was changed, simply because the right person found her at the wrong time.) 

She presses her back against the side of the Chevy truck, with Natalie beside her. 

Kevyn comes out the back door of the bar, holding two beers in his hands. He grins as she shoves them in their direction. 

“Try to stay on the down low with these.” He warns, before heading back inside. “They know we’re underage, but my boy is hooking us up as long as we play it cool, alright?” 

Natalie rolls her eyes at Kevyn’s retreating figure. They each crack open their beers and tap them against each other. 

“I can’t believe this morning I woke up in Wiskayok.” Jackie says, shaking her head in disbelief after taking the first sip of her drink. “And now I’m… here.”

“Day one.” Nat agrees, looking at the bar with a smile that Jackie can’t help but mimic. “Only two and a half months to go.” 

She turns to meet Natalie’s eyes. “Look, I know you said to stop thanking you—”

“Oh, brother.” Nat rolls her eyes. 

Jackie continues without stopping. “But I just… I really, really appreciate it. That’s all. It’s only—I think… I think I really needed this, and I didn’t even know it.” 

Because that’s the truth, isn’t it? Hasn’t she thought all day about how she’s happier than she’s been in months? Didn’t she acknowledge how strange it was that seeing Shauna earlier at the gas station didn’t leave her shattered and angry, the way it did yesterday outside of the pawn shop? 

She tightens her fingers around her can and brings it up for another sip. It’s cold against her throat; something for her to focus on while she waits for Natalie’s reply.

The thing you need to know about Natalie and Jackie is that they’ve never done this before—the whole deep talking thing. She doesn’t know the script, which normally wouldn’t bother her a bit, because if there’s anything Jackie knows, it’s how to navigate a conversation. But this isn’t a normal moment. Her head isn’t in a normal place. Vulnerability rolls through her like the raw, opening chords of one of Shauna’s favorite songs.

“Well, like I said. I’m glad you’re here.” Natalie grins and shrugs her shoulders. Jackie fights off the urge to yank her into an embrace. 

It’s easy to talk to her, easy like it is with Van, and she’s emotional over that, embarrassingly so. If Natalie notices the unshed tears swimming in her eyes, she says nothing about it. 

“Honestly, Jackie…” Nat shakes her head. “A part of me still can’t believe you showed up.”

“You said that already.” Jackie giggles, drinking more beer. “But yeah. Me too.” 

“But here you are.”

She nods. “Yeah. Here I am.”

Nat crosses her arms over her chest. Her beer remains firmly held in her grasp, propped up on the crook of her elbow. She holds it like a natural, with a finesse that makes her look cool, like she fits in at a place like this—which, clearly, she does. 

It’s nice to see her be so comfortable. It was a rare occurrence back at Wiskayok High School. 

“Good for you, Taylor. Seriously. It’s about time you do something for yourself.” 

She giggles. “Didn’t you just call me self-centered, like ten minutes ago?” 

“I did, and I stand by that.” Nat knocks her shoulder against Jackie’s and rolls her eyes. “That isn’t what I meant, though. Like—shit, Jackie, can I be honest? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do anything that’s not for an audience.” 

Jackie’s laughter dissolves like sugar in a glass, melting into a frown. “That isn’t true.” 

But we all know that it is, in fact, very true. Hell, Jackie even knows it. And she’s only in denial about that to others, not herself, as seen in her contrary assertion to Natalie. But it isn’t a narrative that she finds flattering (proving Natalie’s point entirely.) But even if it is true, it’s not something she wants other people to notice. That Natalie says it so obviously, like it’s a well-known and undeniable fact, makes Jackie want to cringe. 

The stare that Natalie settles her with is dubious at best, scornful at worst. “Alright, if it’s not true, then why haven’t you quit your sorority if you hate it so much?” 

Jackie sputters. For a moment, she regrets telling them about that. But then she figures that it’s a good thing she did, because who knows if they would have invited her on the tour otherwise?

She tries not to sound too pathetic in her response, but doesn’t do an outstanding job. “I—that’s not—it isn’t like that—I mean, who knows if I really even hate it? Maybe I just need more time to settle in, you know?” 

“Sure, tell yourself that if you want. Maybe another year will do the trick.” Nat laughs, and she can tell that this time, it’s at her, not with her. Jackie takes a breath and tries to reign in bitterness, and a petty urge to snap back with something rude to get the focus off of her and her flaws. Natalie continues. “And what about Jeff? Why’d you stay with him for so long? You said so yourself that you didn’t even like him that much.”

That Jackie didn’t have very strong feelings for her boyfriend of four years was common knowledge among the ex-Yellowjackets, on account of them all having a front row seat to the shattering of her friendship with Shauna.

Jackie ignores the comment about Jeff. (She’s wondered the same thing herself, and she is not willing to unpack that right now.) Instead, she focuses on the sorority question. 

“My parents—”

Nat cuts her off before she can even get her point across. 

“That’s exactly what I mean, dude. You’re only doing it because your mom wants you to. Not because you’re—I dunno—like, fucking passionate about Greek Life.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this.” 

And again, Jackie knows that Natalie’s right, but admitting that is too great of a battle for her right now. 

“Suit yourself.” 

Her shoes scuff against the concrete as she adjusts her body to stand straighter. They both go silent as they sip their beers, backs pressed against the sun-warmed metal of the red Chevy truck. Despite the altercation, it’s still a comfortable quiet, broken only by the sounds of the city roaring in the surrounding streets. 

Jackie thinks about Shauna (surprise) and of the petty hope she’s been harboring all day—will Shauna learn what Jackie’s up to? Will she care? What would she think of all this? 

It’s so annoying that it even crosses her mind, but it’s not like she can turn her brain off. Trust her, she’s tried. There’s an entire section of her brain devoted to Shauna Shipman. That doesn’t go away overnight, and apparently, not after a year, either. Jackie still isn’t sure if she even wants it to. 

“What if this is for an audience?” Jackie asks, shoving aside her previous reservations. “Like… this—me going on this trip with you?” 

Nat tilts her head, musing on that. “I mean… who would you be performing for? Who’s the audience?” 

Shauna. But also—herself, too, and that fact suddenly rings clear as day above her head, a veritable light bulb moment. 

“Shauna, for sure.” Jackie admits. Nat nods, looking unsurprised by that. “But not just her. I think… for myself? I really want to be here.” 

“Well, then… good, I say. That’s progress, right?” Nat taps their shoulders together for the second time, smiling. “Anyway, even if you are performing, or whatever, at least you’re branching out—because seriously, running all over the country with a band of hooligans is the last thing anybody would expect from the town’s Princess.” 

Jackie bursts out laughing, turning to give Natalie an incredulous look. “Hooligans? I know you didn’t just use that word. Besides, I don’t think anyone in their right mind would look at Laura Lee and say that, of all things.” Their arms brush against each other, and Jackie leans in closer to the contact. “I’m happy I get to run all over the country with you. All of you. You’re… really fun to be around, and I wish I’d learned that earlier.” 

“Yeah?” Nat asks, leaning in too. 

“Yeah.” 

“Cool.”

The thrum of the bass guitar marches through her veins, stomping through rivers of blood, and cutting through muscle, skin, and bone with a machete made of raw emotion and electric pulse.

Jackie’s mouth hangs open, and she watches, entirely enraptured, wholly captivated by the surreal visage that is Laura Lee playing music underneath the green and purple glow of hanging stage lights. 

If you’d gone to her a year ago—hell, three days ago—and told her that not only can Laura Lee play the bass, but that she plays it well… she would have laughed in your face. But here she is, staring up at the dancing pluck of Laura Lee’s fingers, and the rhythmic nod of her head, perfectly in time with the beat of the song. 

The lights on the stage change color, revolving between red, blue, green, purple, and the rest of the rainbow, shading her pale blonde hair with incandescent hues that melt and bleed with a shifting music melody. 

Like a fucking angel, Jackie thinks. 

Laura Lee lifts her head and presses closer to the microphone, mouth opening and lips curling around background vocals. Her voice is soft and breathy, a feather drifting back and forth down to the ground. Jackie wants to catch it between her fingers and brush it along her cheek. 

I believe in Kingdom Come. 

Jackie’s on her fifth beer—it’s a pleasant sort of drunk, the kind that makes her want to gush to everyone around her about how much she appreciates them, and everything about them. It’s a little too warm in the bar. It doesn’t bother her. A layer of sticky, sweet sweat clings to her skin and makes her hair frizzy, her hands clammy. It becomes more necessary to hold tighter to her beer, which she does as she brings it up to her mouth for another sip. 

The liquid presses against the gate of her lips and struggles to find an entrance through the grin she can’t seem to get rid of. 

In the chaos of her sudden decision to join the band on tour, Jackie never thought to ask about the type of music they played. It didn’t even occur to her to ask the name of the band until half an hour ago, right before they were called up to the stage. 

Hometown. 

Something about it puts a lump in Jackie’s throat. 

Natalie, Kevyn, Laura Lee, and Randy are in a band. They’ve named it Hometown. They’re on tour. Jackie’s invited. This is the first show.

Even repeating it all so methodically in her head does nothing to lessen the surreal static that tingles through every inch of her body.

(Before draping her guitar over her body, Natalie hands Jackie a folded up piece of paper. 

“It’s the song list for tonight,” she said, in response to Jackie’s quizzical expression. Her eyes glow with excitement, and she leans in close to be heard over the growing chatter of the audience. “It’s all covers tonight, but you’ll know most of these. They’re pretty popular songs.”) 

Natalie was right. Jackie does know these songs. 

The one they’re singing now was frequently played on the radio, and at school dances. It reminds her of elementary school. Vaguely, she recalls hearing it in the backseat of Shauna’s mother’s car on the way home from school on a cold, winter day. It’s tinted with enough nostalgia and feeling to last decades. The sort of song that Jackie’s sure will be sung twenty years from now by teenagers still yet to be born. 

You broke the bonds, and you loosed the chains.

Randy’s at the drumset, bouncing on his stool. His knees jerk up with dramatic flair as he stomps his foot up and down against the pedal of the bass drum. The lights illuminate him in stage color, with a special glow against his fists, curled so tight around a pair of drumsticks that she’s able to see the whites of his knuckles.
Has she ever seen someone have so much? Jackie doesn’t think so. 

Kevyn takes it very seriously. He’s at the head of the stage, eyes screwed shut, singing with a passion that would put the original artist to shame. He’s on rhythm guitar too—she only just learned what that is about an hour ago—and Jackie can’t help but be impressed by the effortless way he does both.

But it’s Natalie that yanks her in. 

Jackie stands rooted to her spot in the middle of the crowd, hardly noticing that she’s spilled some beer down her chin. She’d forgotten her camera, which she could kick herself over now. It’s still sitting in the backseat of the Chevy truck, left there when Jackie had last gone out to share a cigarette with Kevyn and Nat. 

As much as Jackie wishes it was in her hands so she could capture the moment of this first show, there’s no way she’s going to get it. 

Her memory will have to do.

Which… that’s unfortunate. The mind is a fickle thing, prone to misremembering and forgotten detail. 

But Jackie is so sure that she won’t ever forget this moment, nor this night, not in a million years. 

(That’s not entirely correct. She’ll forget some parts. She’ll forget her anxiety, and all the fears that lingered still in her mind. Nor will she remember how the lyrics reminded her of Shauna in a train of thought that stings and prods at the pressure points of her good mood. 

But she’ll remember the important parts. The song. The vibrance. The taste of cheap beer, and Laura Lee’s beautiful smile. But most of all, she’ll remember Natalie, and know it’s the day that started everything.) 

God, call her cliche, or self-centered, whatever you please, but—it’s just like a movie. 

Goosebumps rise. A chill leaves her shuddering, in spite of the heat. 

Natalie’s watching her from the stage. Jackie meets her eyes. Nat raises an eyebrow, and Jackie can see the question threaded through the simple movement. 

(Having fun?)

Jackie grins, lifts her beer, and opens her mouth to sing along.

(Yes.)

The room sways before her eyes, but her head swims with sheer happiness. That, and the intoxicating effect of a lot of beer. She stopped keeping track after drinking her eighth. 

The inside of Ken’s apartment is as insane as the outside. The living room that they’re sleeping in is filled with a variety of mismatched, vintage furniture—including a green, worn-out, velvet couch, two bean bag chairs, some lava lamps, as well as vinyl records and peace-lily plants in every corner. There’s a bookshelf that splits the room into two sections. Earlier that day, Jackie had looked over the titles. It was filled with a trove of well-worn books about spirituality, social activism, and philosophy. 

She pulls her blanket up to the chin, staring at the ceiling, and fighting off a smile that just won’t seem to go away. 

If tonight was any kind of hint of the months ahead, then Jackie was in for the time of her life. All of her previous worries were gone, banished, replaced now by daydreams and romantic musings of beautiful moments still yet to come. 

Jackie isn’t even bothered that she has to sleep on the floor. Considering how picky she can be about her sleeping arrangements, this is very impressive of her. 

Although, now that she thinks about it, there won’t exactly be a lot of options to choose from while they’re in the RV, so it’s probably best that she gets used to this now. 

Kevyn and Randy are sharing the spare bedroom that’s typically owned by Kevyn’s cousin, but vacated now. It leaves Laura Lee, Jackie, and Natalie to camp out in the living room. Nat claims the green velvet loveseat, while Jackie and Laura Lee lay side by side on a bed of blankets. 

From above, there’s movement. She realizes that it’s Natalie shifting around to get comfortable, and that she must still be awake, likely just as drunk as Jackie is, if not more. 

Because she’s intoxicated, and too fucking cheerful for her own good, she can’t help herself. Jackie turns over on her side, looking up, and whispering into the quiet of the room. 

“Nat?” 

The shuffling stops. Nat whispers back. “Yeah?”

“I’m really happy that you found me on the side of the road.” 

Some moments in life can seem so meaningless without the helpful hand of time to contextualize. 

This isn’t one of those moments. 

She already knows how meaningful it is. There’s almost something poetic about it, Jackie thinks. Shauna would be able to describe it better. But really, think about it. Like—how crazy is it that all of this is happening because Jackie couldn’t stand to face Shauna outside the pawnshop. (The abandoned ice cream flashes in her mind, sad and melting on the ground, ripe for a swarm of ants.) She can take it a step further. If her mother wasn’t so insufferable to be around, she never would have left her house at all. 

Nat laughs, quiet in volume, but loud with amusement. 

“Me too.” 

“Do you mean that?” Jackie can’t help but ask. Old wounds may run deep, but it’s the new ones that cut jagged, and she worries that she’s doing it again—inserting herself where she isn’t wanted. 

Tragic. Boring. Insecure.

Will that irritate Natalie? Is this what Shauna meant when she said that Jackie always needed to be the center of attention? Was she stealing all of the air in the room? Was she fishing for compliments? — And what was so wrong with that, anyway? Jackie liked to be liked. That wasn’t a crime.

But Natalie doesn’t sound annoyed when she responds. 

If anything, she goes soft and sweet in a way that Jackie is entirely unused to. Jackie peers up at the couch. Natalie’s on her side too, looking down at Jackie through the darkness of the room. Her lips part, and the way that Nat’s eyes trace over the contours of her face feels like a physical touch. 

“Yeah, I mean it.” 

If it were scientifically possible, Jackie’s smile would light up the room. 

She nods, and closes her eyes, trying to go to sleep. It’s nearly a success, but before she can fully doze off, Nat breaks the silence. 

“Hey, Jackie?” 

“Yeah?” It’s a gentle imitation of a few moments ago. 

“Do you want to share a cigarette with me?”

As Jackie gets to her feet, Natalie reaches over and grabs her pack off the table. They both move carefully to not wake Laura Lee. 

She plops on the couch just as Nat lights the cigarette. The glow of the burning ember illuminates both of their faces in orange. It creates a soft halo of light around Natalie’s mouth. Her eyes are drawn to it, heavy and tantalized. 

After a couple of drags, Natalie passes it over to Jackie, who takes it, and brings it up to her lips. 

They don’t talk. 

There isn’t any need. 

When the cigarette burns down to the butt and goes out, Jackie doesn’t get up from the couch. Nat doesn’t ask her to. 

They fall asleep like that—pressed shoulder to shoulder, sitting up.

For the second show, the next night, Jackie once again finds herself without her camera. 

This time, it’s a decision she makes on purpose. She’s got an entire summer that she wants to capture on film, and she’s honestly not sure if her camera would survive the night in a place like this. 

The bar they’re performing at tonight is decidedly the opposite to the one they were at yesterday. 

Frankly, it’s as if someone took Natalie Scatorccio and then personified her entire aesthetic into an actual establishment. 

The place is called the Nocturnal Grotto. Fitting, really. It’s situated down a dingy alley in Brooklyn, and Jackie can’t think of a place less likely for someone like her to step into. When they approach the entrance, lugging along the gear with them, Jackie halts, holding Natalie’s electric guitar case closer to her chest. The dim, red-neon sign bears the name of the bar, and it flickers in and out of power, matching in eerie similarity her fluctuating confidence.

The inside is about what you’d expect. 

Dimly lit, of course, but it adds to the ambiance, giving the whole room an intimate, enigmatic aura. Circular wooden tables scatter the room, bearing no chairs, but topped with tall candles that cast long, ghosty shadows over the surrounding floor. Posters cover the wall, displaying punk groups that Jackie’s never heard of, with band names that would make her mother’s eyes fall clean out of her head. And the air is thick and hazy with incense and cigarette smoke, punctuated with the sour smell of beer. At the heart of the room is a weathered, beaten-up stage. 

It’s close to empty when they arrive. She really doesn’t expect a big crowd, because it’s a fucking Tuesday after all, but by the time that Nat and the others take the stage, the room is filled to the brim with tattooed punk rockers and brooding goths wearing black velvet and lace.

Nat looks right at home in her Doc Martin boots, but Jackie sticks out like a sore thumb in her yellow sundress and clean, white Keds. 

(They don’t stay clean for long.)

Jackie curls up her lip. Now, if she seems a bit judgmental here, it’s only because she’s anxious. And, as you’d expect, she quickly learns that there’s no reason to be. 

Everyone is kind. A couple of girls compliment her dress. A guy with a tall blue mohawk gives her his seat when he notices her standing without one. She’s quickly embarrassed over her initial reaction. 

The song list today is changed to reflect the new venue. U2 is replaced with Nirvana. Fleetwood Mac, with Nine Inch Nails. 

If she thought it was surreal to see Laura Lee perform yesterday, then today it’s downright boggling, but she keeps up with the others easily. Three songs in, her hair is sticky with sweat, sticking to her face as she nods her head with Kevyn, who makes the switch from soft rock to grunge look effortless. 

It’s a quick set today. 

Jackie lingers back near the bar during the show, hands folded in her lap as she sits primly on her stool. Her ears ring with the heavy roar of electric guitar and the booming beat of Randy’s drums. 

A small mosh pit of twentyish people breaks out near the stage. She watches, wide-eyed, as the crowd of people jump and push and shove each other in time to the music. It looks terrifying to her, but she can see even from over here, that the sea of bodies is having a blast. And in spite of the violence, there seems to be a code of conduct. More than once, someone falls to the floor, only to be scooped back up onto their feet before they even come close to hitting the ground. 

She wonders what Shauna would make of this. Half of her thinks that she’d love it. Not the music—her tastes ran more angsty than angry—but the moshing. The other half of her thinks that it would just end up in Shauna getting into a fight. Jackie, for her part, doesn’t go near it, staying at the bar until the set is finished. 

Afterwards, Kevyn and Randy set up a table near the doors while the next band takes the stage. They cover the table with a blue cloth and set folded black t-shirts along the top, bearing the band’s logo—which, she learns later, that Randy drew himself. 

Natalie helps the other band set up their equipment, but Laura Lee comes to join her at the bar. 

They couldn’t get away with any underage drinking here, which is perhaps the biggest shock of all, so Jackie’s nursing a Pepsi as she talks with Laura Lee. 

“Laura Lee, do you think I’m fake?” She asks, setting her soda on the table. 

That’s a surprise. Laura Lee sputters over her water, bringing a hand to her chin to stop the spray, and only responding to Jackie after she’d made sure she wasn’t going to choke. 

“Jackie, what? No, of course not.” Her eyebrows knit together. “What makes you ask that?” 

“I’ve just been thinking...” She vagues. 

Natalie’s words from yesterday were still running a track in her mind. 

“Thinking about what?” 

“Like…” She sighs, propping her chin on her fist, trying to gather her thoughts. “Do you think I’m always worried about what other people think? That I never do anything for myself?” 

“Oh. Well—” Laura Lee is as kind as always, but Jackie can tell that she’s trying to be careful in her answer, which tells her everything she needs to know. “I think you’ve got a lot of pressure on you that other people don’t have to deal with.” 

“So, that’s a yes?” 

“It’s a yes, and a no.” She wraps her fingers around her glass of water. “I think you’ve spent a lot of your life worrying about other people. But I also think that we’re young, you know? I mean—look at the two of us right now.” 

She gestures around at the bar, which yeah, good point there. Jackie snorts. “Yeah. It’s weird, isn’t it?” 

“A little.” Laura Lee smiles. “I wouldn’t have stepped foot in here a year ago.” 

“I wouldn’t have a week ago.” 

“I think that it’s really brave of you, if I’m being honest.”

Jackie isn’t so sure of that. She laughs, pressing in on her soda until a small dent appears in the can. “I don’t know if I feel very brave. Crazy, maybe.”

“They’re very similar, aren’t they?”

She pauses, thinking she’ll need some more time to chew on that. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Do things like that make you uncomfortable?” Jackie asks. 

She cocks her head, trying to be subtle, to a man wearing a tight red tank top bearing the words God is Dead on the front. 

Laura Lee chuckles, and shakes her head. “No. Well—not anymore. It definitely would have last year.” 

“Are you, like… less religious now, or something? Sorry if that’s too personal of a question. I’m just curious.”

“It’s alright.” She says kindly, taking a sip from her water. “If anything, I’m more religious these days. But… it is different, yeah.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“It’s not that complicated. I just… realized that God means something different to every person, and that it’s okay if it doesn’t mean what it does for me.” 

Jackie tilts her head. “I don’t know if I believe in God. Is that okay?” 

The smile that Laura Lee gives her is affectionately exasperated. “Of course that’s okay. It would have been okay before, too, you know. I never hated anyone for not believing in God. I just mean… my idea, I guess, of God has expanded.” 

“I know you never would have hated anyone.” Jackie says, reaching over and placing a hand on Laura Lee’s arm. “I’m only joking.” 

“I get a little embarrassed sometimes about how pushy I could be. But I always loved everyone.” Laura Lee places a hand over Jackie’s and threads their fingers together. “Anyway—I think I believe now that God is… everywhere. In everyone. That He—or… Her. Or even it… can be things I haven’t even recognized yet. In ways I couldn’t never imagine. And yeah, some people feel nothing at all. Which is kind of like a God too, if you think about it hard enough.”

In bed that night, Jackie thinks about God, and Shauna, and that audience she’s always on stage for. 

Jackie’s not about to get religious, no matter how profound Laura Lee’s words, but still, it makes her think. She’s in dire need of some self-reflection. Some peace, if not answers. 

So what is her God? Or is it a who?

Maybe it used to be Shauna, but if that’s the case, then Jackie’s been forsaken. Or—as depressing as it might be, is it that aforementioned audience: her parents, peers, her fucking reputation?

And yeah, forsaken she may be, but the audience still includes Shauna, too.

They’re back at the Nocturnal Grotto again the next day for their third show in New York City. 

Jackie is trying to edge up the side of the bar so she can be closer to the stage, while still maintaining a safe distance from the mosh pit. It’s even bigger today than it was yesterday. Wednesday’s brought with it a larger crowd. 

Unfortunately, she’s too close when the fight breaks out. 

“What the fuck, man? Watch where you’re throwing your elbow!” 

“Dude, chill. It’s a mosh pit. If you’re going to be a pussy about it, then—”

One of the men throws a punch at the other one’s face, and everything devolves into fucking chaos. 

Jackie’s knocked backwards. She spills soda down the front of her shirt. If she wasn’t so focused on trying to stay upright, she’d be pissed about that. She gets shouldered again, this time from the side. She starts to topple over, soda falling from her fingers, but before she falls to the ground, a pair of hands grabs her by the arms and hoists her back upright. 

She never sees who.

The music never stops. After rushing back to the bar, Jackie turns to look up at the stage, eyes wide after the minor scuffle. 

If anything, the violence only serves to spur Kevyn and Randy on even further. The music gets louder, the drum beats deeper, and Kevyn’s voice rattles with demented enthusiasm. 

Natalie, on the other hand, seems distracted. Her fingers still pull at the guitar with a steady rhythm, but her head swivels around, searching for something. 

She finds it in Jackie. 

They lock eyes over the rumbling roar of electric guitar, and she watches in real time as Natalie’s eyes relax into something calm again. You’re okay, they seem to say, or at least she thinks. 

Jackie grins, and waves her hand over the stain on her shirt in exaggerated dismay. Natalie pushes forward to sing the harmony, laughing through the lyrics, and not looking away until the song comes to an end. 

There’s no show on Thursday, so they splinter into smaller groups to prepare for the upcoming road trip. 

Laura Lee and Ken work together to get the RV tidied up and organized, stacking blankets into the loft bed and filling the cabinets with snacks, water, and first aid supplies. Ken also fiddles around under the hood, and double checks that the plumbing is running as it should, while Laura Lee dusts off the tables and counters inside until it’s all clean and ready for a two-month inhabitation. 

Natalie and Kevyn dip out early in the morning to stock up on beer and marijuana. 

Jackie decides to head into the city. Both to explore, but also to pick up a postcard to send to Van, as well as getting another roll of film for her camera. Despite living so close to New York, Jackie rarely gets the opportunity to pop in. And on the few occasions she does, it’s typically with her parents, which should be more than enough explanation. 

“Hey, mind if I come with you?” 

Randy slides up next to her, wearing a faded grey Wiskayok baseball t-shirt that flings her straight back into the past. She slides her purse up her arm, peering inside to confirm that she’d put away her wallet. She responds, while digging around inside in search of familiar smooth leather. 

“Uh…” There’s not really a reason to tell him no, but Jackie wants to. She’s never spent any time alone with Randy, and it wasn’t what she had in mind for the day. 

“I promise that no one will mess with you if I’m there.” He says, boastfully, though Jackie had not once expressed any interest in bringing someone along for protection. 

Unfortunately, Jackie is unfailingly polite, so she just nods. “Sure, I guess.” 

Another person might have sensed the reluctance in her voice, and perhaps picked up on the unspoken implication that she does, in fact, mind. But Randy’s never been one for subtleties. 

He grins. “Awesome. Let me go grab my wallet.” 

So—that’s how Jackie finds herself walking the streets of Brooklyn with Randy Walsh at her side, chattering about his younger sisters, baseball, and one time he’d accidentally kicked a hole in the wall after tripping over a stray drumstick. 

She’s only half-listening. 

Her mind wanders. So do her eyes, gazing over apartments, souvenir shops, other pedestrians, and all of the street food vendors. 

Randy startles her with another out-of-the-blue question. 

“So—uhh, I guess you haven’t talked to Jeff at all, huh?” 

“No.” She says, dismayed. The idea of it is ridiculous. “Not at all.” 

He nods, as if that is a very profound thing for her to do. “I don’t blame you for it at all. I wouldn’t either, if I were you.”

And, like, okay? Cool?

Jackie cannot help the way she rolls her eyes, but Randy doesn’t notice. “Alright, then.” 

He continues, eternally oblivious. “Me and him don’t even really talk that much anymore.” 

She sighs, taking the bait. “Oh, really? How come?” 

Randy shrugs, stopping next to her on the sidewalk while they wait for the red walking man to turn green and allow them to cross to the other side of the street. “We’ve just grown apart, I guess, for like, no reason too. I know he’s all busy at Rutgers with fraternity stuff, and I get that college is busy, but it’s like he doesn’t even remember that we’re supposed to be best friends.”

Jackie looks over his face—slightly sunburnt, with freckles dusting his cheeks and nose, thin lips pressed into a frown. He looks genuinely sad. It’s odd, seeing that. She softens. 

“That sucks.” And though she doesn’t actually relate, considering her own best friendship ended in an explosion, and not the slow-death that seems to be the case here, she knows how hard it is to lose a lifelong friend. “I’m sorry, Randy. I know it’s normal for that to happen after high school, but yeah… it doesn’t feel good. But hey, at least you’ve got the band, right?” 

“Yeah. I still miss Jeff.” Randy smiles. “But I love those guys.”

She smiles. “I think I do too. Love them, I mean. I don’t miss Jeff.”

“You’re in a sorority, right?” Randy asks, only laughing a little about her comment, which she’s thankful for. 

“Yep. Chi Zeta Phi, right here.” 

“Neat. Do the girls have as many parties as the frats?” 

“Well, we mostly go to their parties.” 

“Damn. I bet they’re pretty fun.” 

“No,” Jackie says, making a face. “I hate them, actually.” 

The crosswalk goes green, and they start to walk again, as Randy gives her a surprised look. “Shit, really? You always seemed like you would… I dunno, love all the sorority shit.”

“That’s what everyone says.” Jackie says, tired. “I thought I would too, but… maybe it isn’t for me.” 

“That sucks too.” Randy frowns, sounding genuinely sorry. “That’s how I felt about college. My mom was pissed at me for dropping out, but… I hated it.” 

“I think my mom would disown if I ever quit.” 

Randy throws an arm around her shoulder and yanks her close. “Well, fuck your mom, then!” 

After Jackie escapes the sudden embrace, they fall into a comfortable silence. She settles into it, feeling more comfortable with that than talking about Jeff, or her sorority. 

For the next couple of hours, they walk around together, popping into souvenir shops for postcards, and a photo hut to get the roll of film. Randy takes a picture of her standing next to a mannequin in a shop’s window display, because they’re literally wearing the same outfit. Jackie takes a picture of him posing next to graffiti street art, arms lifted to flex his muscles. 

All in all, it’s actually a pretty good time. 

It’s a quarter past three in the afternoon when Randy makes them stop at a hot dog stand for lunch. He insists on paying, and passes her a foil-wrapped bun after shoving his change back into his pocket. 

“It’s been fun having you around, Jackie. I’m glad you came.” Randy tears at the foil until half of his hot dog is exposed. 

She smiles, peeling away her own wrapping. “Thanks, Randy. Me too.” 

He holds out his bun, grinning. “Cheers?” 

Jackie laughs, and taps her food against his. “Cheers.”

“Dude, this place is kind of a dump.” 

Kevyn shoots Randy a dirty look and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and? Most of the places we’re going to play at are going to look like this.” 

Jackie ducks past them to stand next to Natalie and Laura Lee. Randy has a point. There’s a sticky layer of beer on the floor. Her shoes peel from the ground with every step. 

O’Sullivans might not be the prettiest bar in the world, but Jackie thinks it has a certain charm. 

They lean up against green shamrock wallpaper, and Jackie looks around. This time, she remembered her camera. She brings it up to her eyes and takes a picture of the old, crackling jukebox a few feet away. It’s her first time in Sunnyside, and her first time in an Irish pub—obviously. Even if it isn’t the cleanest, Jackie likes it all the same. 

This is by far their most crowded show. 

The Friday crowd fills the room at a steady pace. The clinking of mismatched glasses mixes with a plethora of conversations and raucous laughter. 

And honestly, it’s a good thing this place is a bit on the dingier side, because that probably contributes to the bartender’s complete lack of interest in checking their ID’s. With a barely hidden grin, Kevyn buys a round of beers for everyone but Laura Lee (she opts for an Arnold Palmer) and brings it to their table. 

Hometown plays second tonight. 

The first band got on stage just a few minutes ago. They’re running a sound check that doesn’t seem to be going well. One of the microphones crackles and pops in a way that doesn’t seem very intentional. The other four all begin to grumble about it. 

“Ugh. Do you hear that?” Nat mutters.

“Yep.” Kevyn frowns. “Sounds like a busted PA system.” 

Jackie doesn’t know anything about sound systems, or anything involving the technical side of a band, but even she can tell that something is off. Every few minutes there’s a high-pitched burst of feedback that makes her wince, and the guitar seems to buzz or drop every few seconds. Still, once the band really gets going, it’s still pleasant to listen to. 

“It’ll be cool, you guys.” Randy grins from over the rim of his beer. “Shitty sound is all part of the tour experience. I say we make the most of it.” 

“Well, of course we’re going to make the most of it.” Kevyn says, more than a little snide. Randy takes it on the chin. “It’s not like we have any choice.” 

Leaving the boys to their bickering, Jackie wraps both hands around her glass, and looks over at Nat. “So… what’s the music like today?” She’s been looking forward to something different after the grunge from the last few days. 

“A lot of classic rock, but the softer kind. Some folk too—Bob Dylan kind of shit.” Nat digs in her pocket and pulls out a crumpled ball of paper. “Here, so you can follow along.” 

Jackie takes it and unwraps the sheet. She sets it down on the table to look at, careful to avoid the wet spots left from their drink condensation. 

“Oh, yay, Sweet Caroline!” Jackie exclaims, her eyes lighting up. “I love this song.” 

Nat snorts. “Of course you do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing.” Nat says, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “Just that you look like the kind of person who would love that song.” 

“It’s a fun song, Natalie. Do you hate fun?” 

Laura Lee giggles. “Don’t listen to Nat. She’s being pretentious. It is a fun song.”

“Me? Pretentious?” Nat gasps, and puts a hand over her heart. “You must have me mistaken for Kevyn.” 

Kevyn laughs, nodding his head in agreement. “Hey, I’ll admit it. I’m a music snob. But this song is a crowd pleaser, so we’ve got to play it. I bet it makes us the most tips.” 

Jackie sniffs and sips her beer. “Well—as a member of the crowd, I can tell you that it would please me. I’m going to sing the ba ba ba’s so loud.”

 Natalie gives her a fond look, shaking her head. “Then I better hear you while I’m up on stage.” 

“Trust me, you will. Also, are you going to sing tonight?” Jackie asks, glancing back down at the song list. For the most part, Kevyn does all the singing, but on occasion, Nat will take the lead on the microphone. Those are always Jackie’s favorites. 

“Yep.” Natalie says, with a line of beer on her upper lip. “Number seven.” 

“Janis Joplin?” Shauna was a big fan, but as seems to be the trend the last couple of days, remembering that doesn’t pang her chest. She thinks back to conversations in Shauna’s car, and the sound of her voice as she waxed poetic about the tragedy of Janis’ life. “I really like her.”

The sound is still all fucked up when it’s time for them to take the stage. 

Not that the crowd seems to care. They’re so enthusiastic that it makes up for it entirely. Every song is a hit, so when the static gets too loud, or the guitar too warbled, it doesn’t even matter. There’s at least eighty people packed into this small, dirty space, and they all sing along with a fervor that plasters a permanent grin to Jackie’s face.

She waits patiently for song number seven, sitting at the bar and nursing her third beer, and then a fourth. Finally, Nat swaps places with Kevyn to stand in front of the center stage microphone. Kevyn swaps out for an acoustic guitar and begins a slow strum, while Natalie closes her eyes and starts in on the lyrics, and the tangy twist of the lead melody.

Jackie gulps down the rest of her beer and then takes off through the bar in a rush, hurrying to get to the front of the crowd. 

After pushing all the way to the stage edge, Jackie lifts her camera and points it at Nat, squinting with one eye so she can look through the lens. Will she ever tire of this? — Probably not. 

The distortions add to the entire experience, casting their performance with something raw and authentic. It feels like she’s watching a documentary about the moment a famous band has their first big break. She takes another picture. 

Everything is going great until the second chorus. Another pop of static erupts from the speaker, and it must cause some type of electric shortening, or something like that, because midway through another round of Bobby McGee’s, she suddenly yelps and jumps away from the microphone, hand flying to her mouth to touch at her lips. 

Jackie jumps in surprise, looking at the others, who seem just as shocked as she is. 

But it’s a credit to their dedication that the music never stops. Even Nat, who’s now sporting a pink, round burn mark on her lip, recovers without a hitch. 

Lord, when he sang the blues.

With the microphone now compromised, Nat’s forced to sing from further away. She compensates for that by raising her voice from a low croon to something that’s near a scream. 

It works. 

The feral shout makes her already raspy voice rumble into deep gravel that falls through the song. It urges the crowd into a frenzy. Jackie finds herself wrapped in the sweaty mix of dozens and dozens of people, moving with them until her stomach presses against the wooden edge of the stage. 

She gasps, breathless with energy. 

That feelin’ good was good enough for me. 

Jackie screams with the others and loses herself in the moment. 

Natalie might be the coolest person that Jackie’s ever met. She blinks up at the stage, overcome with sudden affection. It’s difficult with the movement all around, but she lifts her camera again, gripping tight and waving it to catch Natalie’s attention. 

They lock eyes. Natalie understands what Jackie’s trying to do and twists her body to give her a better angle. She grins, lips curling over the ending-lyrics, and Jackie flushes warm with happiness and reckless romanticism. (Look at them. They’re really here. This is happening.)

She takes the picture, knowing already that it’s going to be one of her favorites.

“I love you guys so much. Like—you don’t even understand.”

Jackie throws her arms around Laura Lee and buries her face in the side of her neck. She’s properly drunk now. After getting off stage, they hit the bar hard, ordering round after round of shots. They’re all shit-faced now, stumbling into the street towards the red Chevy truck. 

Laura Lee is the only sober one of the group, and as such, is the designated driver. 

She returns the embrace, laughing in Jackie’s ear. “We love you too, don’t we, guys.” 

“Hell fucking yeah, man!” Natalie yells, before bursting off in a sudden sprint, cheering as she runs zig-zagged to the car.

Randy immediately takes off after her, whooping and cheering, and oh, that looks fun—Jackie pulls away from Laura Lee, and she’s off too, wind in her hair. 

But she’s way too drunk to be doing something like this. She doesn’t realize how close the truck is, and she’s going too fast to slow down. Her body crashes into the back passenger door with a loud clunk and a fit of giggles, sending her tumbling into Natalie, who catches her in a clumsy hug. 

“Did you have a good night?” Nat asks, her breath ghosting over Jackie’s ear and sending a shiver down her spine. 

“Yes.” Jackie grabs onto her, fingers twisting, then curling to grab a fistful of leather jacket. She holds on tight, only swaying a little as she pulls Nat closer. “So much fun.”

Natalie hums. “Good.” 

Her eyes sting. Jackie, suddenly emotional, has to fight off tears. “I think this is the happiest I’ve ever been. You guys are so cool.” 

At that moment, Kevyn shows up, slamming into the truck much the same as Jackie had. “No, Jackie…” He gasps, whirling around to put a hand on her shoulder. They’re all falling all over the place—young and happy and way too drunk for their own good. “You’re so fucking cool, and like, I never knew that before this week.” 

Randy burps, yanking open the front passenger door. “I knew it already. Who’s stupid now, huh, Kev?” 

“Still you.” 

Laura Lee, bless her, takes their messy chaos in stride. She makes a shooing motion at them, smiling. “Get into the truck, you guys. We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah!” Jackie says, suddenly remembering that tomorrow they’ll be leaving New York City. 

“The real tour begins.” Natalie grins, pulling away from Jackie to open the door. 

She nudges Jackie forward. Jackie complies, grabbing on the handle to hoist herself up. Nat and Kevyn climb in right behind her. They situate themselves in their seats and get their seat belts buckled. But instead of pressing into the cool glass window, Jackie gravitates towards Nat once again, leaning over to rest her head against a leather-clad shoulder.

Jackie’s always been a happy drunk, and she’s more than passed the affectionate stage of the night; the one that makes her eager to touch, and hug, and… 

She hums, not even caring that Natalie isn’t Shauna. Right now, she’s better. 

Natalie’s cheeks are red, probably from the alcohol. She tosses an arm over Jackie’s shoulder, the other over Kevyn’s. 

“I fucking love you guys.” 

“Oh my god,” Is the first thing Jackie says the next morning when she wakes up on the floor next to Laura Lee. “I can’t believe I don’t have a hangover.” 

Considering how many drinks she’d had last night, it’s a miracle that she wakes up, chipper as a bird. 

Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for everyone. 

“Ugh,” Nat groans, facedown on the couch, with her head stuffed underneath a pillow. “Speak for yourself. I feel like dog shit.” 

“Well, drink some water or something, because we have a big day. Also—how are you more hungover than me? That’s crazy.” 

“Shut up, please.” Nat grunts, shoving herself into a seated position. 

Jackie rolls her eyes. “That’s rude. And to think, we were just getting so close.” 

“Fuuuuck,” Natalie stretches out the word, bringing her hands up to rub at her temples. She smacks her mouth and closes her eyes. In her voice, Jackie hears the rasp and strain of the night before. “My head hurts.” 

Laughing, she gets to her feet and heads into the kitchen, where she fills up two glasses of water. 

“Here, drink up.” She says, holding out a glass. 

“Thanks. I could kiss you for this.” 

Ignoring how her stomach completely flips like a pancake, Jackie sits on the couch and takes a sip from her own glass. She busies herself with thinking about the upcoming day. They don’t have a very long drive, just two hours down I-95 through New Jersey, and then down into Philadelphia. 

“Oh, you guys are awake.”

Kevyn comes out of the bathroom, hair wet from a shower, wearing one of the band’s t-shirts, and a pair of light blue jeans. He’s got a grin plastered to his face, one she’s almost inclined to mimic. Jackie’s not the only one ready to get this show on the road—literally.

“Barely.” Nat mumbles, after gulping down the last of her water. 

“Well, up and at ‘em, buckaroo. I want to get on the road soon, so we have time to check into the motel before the show tonight.” As he walks by the back of the couch, Kevyn reaches out to slap the back of Natalie’s head. 

Nat immediately swivels around to hit him back, but he jumps out of the way and disappears back into the bedroom. 

“Asshole.” Nat yells after the echoing ghost of his laughter. 

Jackie giggles, energized by his reciprocal excitement. She springs up from the couch and sets her glass on the table. 

“I’m going to shower! I’ll be quick, in case you want to go next.” She receives only a grunt in response. 

After speeding through her shower, Jackie dresses and returns to the living room, all in under ten minutes. Laura Lee is awake now, stretching her arms above her head and yawning. 

“Good morning, Laura Lee!” Jackie sings, crossing the room to shove her pajamas and razor back into her backpack. 

“Hi, Jackie,” She says, grinning from the bed of blankets. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better than I thought I would, that’s for sure. Amazing, actually. And ready to get going.” 

“Me too! Do you want to shower first, Nat?”

Natalie is clutching her empty glass in her hands, legs crossed and body swaying, with her eyes closed. “Huh? Oh—no, you go ahead. I need a minute.”

All in all, it takes them about an hour and a half to fully wake for the day. Randy’s just as hungover as Natalie is, which makes him uncharacteristically quiet as they load their suitcases into the RV. But Jackie, Kevyn, and Laura Lee are all peppy enough to make up for it. They chatter happily while doing one last walkthrough of the RV.

Sitting on the wicker porch chair again is Ken. He doesn’t do much helping, except for tossing out random bits of advice as they got everything together. 

(“Don’t let the tank get below half!)

(“Make sure to keep whatever drugs you’ve got in there nice and hidden. Kevyn—do you remember that secret compartment I showed you?”) 

(“I’ll skin each of you alive if you don’t bring this back in one piece. Or at least two pieces.”) 

(“If any of you are trying to get laid—looking at you, boys—then use a fucking condom. There’s nothing worse than a tour baby, trust me on that.”)

Soon enough, they’re all ready to go. The excitement swells to a fever pitch as they file into the RV, one by one, except for Kevyn, who is having a private goodbye with his uncle. 

“So…” Jackie drawls, flopping down onto the couch behind the driver’s seat. “Where are we all going to be sleeping?” 

She’s been wondering about that for days, and now that she’s finally inside of their little makeshift home, the question returns. There is one bed, situated above the driver and passenger seats like a little loft. There’s also the couch she’s currently sitting on, and the dining table that’s across from her can be converted into another couch. 

“The boys are taking the couches.” Nat answers, tossing a big blue duffel bag on the floor next to the table. “I won the drinking contest for the bed, so I’ll be up there.” 

“And then I brought an inflatable air mattress.” Laura Lee says, pointing at a folded grey mat and a small, electric fan.”

“What about me?”

“I figure you can bunk with me? I’ve got the most room to spare, so it makes more sense. And that way no one has to take the floor.” Nat slides into one of the benches attached to the table, glancing at Jackie quickly, and then looking away. 

“Oh, cool.” Jackie says. She pinches at the fabric of her shorts, opting for a casual smile. “Thanks, Nat.” 

“Just promise me that you don’t snore.” Nat takes a breath and meets her eyes, “It’s already going to be bad enough with Randy in here. It’ll suck if you keep me up with more honking in my ear.”

“I do not snore.” 

“Really? Because I can remember a few times Shipman mentioned—”

“I don’t! She was wrong!” Jackie laughs. “I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jackie Taylor.”

“Oh my god, I hate you.”

“It’s whatever. I’ll just get some ear plugs. Problem solved, right?”

“We’re rotating driving shifts, and that includes you too, Taylor.” 

Jackie laughs, raising an eyebrow at Natalie. “Are you sure about that Scatorccio? I don’t even have my license.” 

“Neither do I. So what?” 

“Wait, what?” Laura Lee says, turning around in the front passenger seat to level Natalie with a disapproving glare. “You’ve had months to do it. I told you I would help you.” 

“Sorry, Mom, it slipped my mind.” Nat scoots back on the bench until her back is against the window and stretches her legs out in front of her.

Laura Lee scoffs, drumming her fingers along the brown leather Bible resting open in her lap. 

“I mean…” Jackie wrinkles her nose. “I’m not exactly the best driver. You know that. Don’t you remember what happened to the car I got for my sixteenth birthday? And like… I’ve never driven one of these.” 

It would be just her luck to wreck the RV, wouldn’t it? The mere idea of returning it to Ken in less than—what was it he’d said? In less than two pieces? Yeah, it makes her cringe. 

“I can teach you.” Randy says, dropping down to sit on the cushion next to her. “We can find a Walmart parking lot somewhere along the way and give you a few lessons. Going backwards is the hard part. If you can manage forwards, then you’re already most of the way there.” 

“Besides, it’ll be mostly highway driving,” says Nat. “It’s easier than it looks, don’t worry.” 

Their conversation is interrupted by the opening of the driver’s side door, grinding with a high-pitched whine to Kevyn. He hops into the seat with his cheeks high on his face, suspended with a grin that’s so excited, it’s contagious. “Alright, motherfuckers! Who’s ready?” 

Nat slams her fist down on the table, and cheers, as Laura Lee claps her hands and goes, “Me!” 

Randy, still not entirely recovered from his hangover, joins in too. He’s never been the type to be able to resist group enthusiasm. “Me too!” 

Jackie grins. 

“Well, then…” Kevyn shoves the key into the ignition and brings the engine to life. “Let’s get this show on the road.” 

He presses his palm against the horn. It sounds like what you would hear on a boat, but it startles Ken all the same, nearly sending him tumbling out of his wicker chair. He steadies himself, and then looks over at the RV, waving a hand and yelling, “Be safe, you crazy idiots! Have fun! Bring this old man back a bunch of fun stories. I’ll see you at the end of the summer!”

Jackie presses her face up against the open panel window and shouts out, “See you in August!” 

“Love you, Uncle Ken.” Kevyn waves back, and shifts the vehicle into reverse. “Don’t die while I’m gone!”

Ken throws up a middle finger and holds it up, keeping it there until they disappear out of his sight.

The Delaware River stretches out on either side of the RV, sparkling bright and blue underneath the summer sky. The water ripples, coaxed by the gentle current of the wind into a shimmering dancing pattern that gives Jackie something pretty to look at in the sea of concrete. 

It’s not a long drive to Philadelphia. Just a little over two hours, and it’s going by quickly. 

The mood is good. They’re laughing, and talking. About twenty minutes into the drive, Laura Lee popped in a tape pulled from a medium-sized black crate nestled on the ground between the two pilot seats. It’s filled with a bunch of music from every genre they could think of. 

The Steve Miller Band is playing right now, but it’s a song that Jackie doesn’t know, so she busies herself with looking out the window. 

More than once, she finds herself stealing glances at Natalie. And, speaking of—

A flash of silver spins in Natalie’s hands, its light glinting off the tall, three chambered bong that she’s got gripped snug between her thighs. She’s humming along to the song while she grinds up her weed, head bopping along and lips mouthing the words.

Randy leans forward with a can of Coors Light clutched between his fingers. “Ooh, are you loading a bowl? Can I have some?” 

“You fuckin’ mooch,” says Natalie, sticking out her tongue.

“Aww, c’mon.”

Randy turns to Jackie for help, but all she can do is laugh, shrugging her shoulders. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’m also mooching. I didn’t bring anything.” 

“I thought sharing was caring.”

Natalie laughs. “Sage words, Mr. Walsh.” She pinches a small tuft of green between her fingers and packs it into the bowl. “For that, I suppose you may have some.” 

“Wowza, you’re so kind,” Jackie says, giggling. 

“Eh, what can I say? All in a day’s work.”

The song playing from the speakers comes to an end, and after a brief spell of silence, the tape continues to the next. The twinkling trill of a xylophone fills the space of the RV. Jackie gasps, recognizing this one. She sits up straight, and yells to Laura Lee. 

“Oh, I love this one. — Do you think you could turn it up?” 

Laura Lee leans forward and spins the nob. 

Guitar and drums kick in next, and Jackie crosses her legs on the couch, smiling as the voice of Christine McVie meets her ears. It’s one of the songs she shared with Shauna—it was rare that their music tastes aligned, but if you were to make a Venn Diagram, then Fleetwood Mac would land square in the center overlap. 

Despite the Shauna-associations, it makes her smile to hear it. She won’t let Shauna take this away from her, too. Not now, when she’s so giddy it makes her face hurt. Not here, with Natalie smirking at her with weed in her hands, and on her thighs. The song tastes like chlorine water, smells like barbecue charcoal, and Jackie sings along, waving her hands in front of her in a grooving match to the beat of the drums. 

Randy joins in next to her. He never does vocals in the band, so she’s never heard his singing voice before. It’s higher-pitched than she would have expected, but nice. 

The clicking gasp of a lighter breaks through the music, followed by the bubbling suction of water when Natalie leans forward to hit the bong. Jackie stares, following the edges of her neck and throat as she leans back to exhale the smoke towards the ceiling. Nat takes it like a champ; there’s not a cough in sight. 

“Laura Lee,” yells Natalie over the shout of their singing, “Do you want any?” 

“Yes, please,” Laura Lee unclasps her seatbelt and clambers into the back to sit on the bench across from Natalie. 

“Will you bring it up to me when you’re done?” Kevyn calls over his shoulder.

“Absolutely not.” Laura Lee says, taking the bong. “You’re driving, so you have to wait.” 

Kevyn laughs. Jackie can’t see his face, but she can hear the smile in his voice. “Boo. You’re so safe and responsible, it’s killing the vibe.” 

(Again—Jackie doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to seeing this. Some things haven’t changed. Laura Lee still doesn’t drink, after all. But looking at her now, bringing a lighter’s flame close to the bowl, reminds Jackie of how much is different. A lot can change in a year.)

She isn’t nearly as graceful about it as Natalie was, but still, considering who we’re talking about here, it’s still impressive. Laura Lee pulls the bowl from its downstem and inhales so sharply that Jackie can’t help but giggle, because her eyes go comically wide. She looks like the wolf from the nursery rhymes about the pigs and their flimsy houses, right before he blows them down. It’s so endearing. 

When she exhales, she leans over the table and blows it all over Nat’s face, laughing. Nat plays along, gulping like a fish and wafting the smoke closer with her hands. 

Jackie bursts out laughing. 

Laura Lee puts the bowl back in place and stretches over to pass the bong to Jackie, who takes it with eager, reaching fingers.

The music continues to play in the background as Jackie bends her neck forward to take her turn. 

Something’s happening, happening to me.

And shit, if Fleetwood Mac isn’t speaking the truth. Jackie grins around a mouthful of smoke, still dancing as she sucks down the inhale. 

The chorus builds to a swell, and as Christine’s voice stretches into the end of the song, Jackie’s breath rises to join the rest in another cloud of pungent smoke, wisping along the top of the RV in white, ghosting curls. 

Next to her, Randy’s doing a rowdy performance on the air drums, knee jerking just like it did the other night, like he’s pressing his foot to the bass petal. He makes crashing cymbal sounds with his mouth, giving them a beat to follow along with. 

Natalie and Laura Lee join in on the singing, and when Jackie clears her lungs of smoke she jumps back in too. 

Is this how Christine felt when she performed this song twenty something years ago? Did Lindsay Buckingham look at Stevie the way she’s looking at Nat? Did Stevie smile at Christine the way Laura Lee smiles at Jackie? 

The song comes to an end, but they all keep singing into the next. 

Jackie looks out the window, and laughs.