Junie & Jackie - A Love Story

4

Have I mentioned that my mom was uptight?

It was only a few days after I started watching Jackie Williams' sister that she started asking questions. At first, I could not understand why she was so curious, so interested. I watched at least 15 or 20 different kids just this year. It seemed there was a new kid every week, a mom recommending me to her friends when they need extra help. I was kept busy with kids from all walks of life, so her interest in Amelia was confusing.

That is, until I realized why she cared so much.

Had I known she was going to search through my room, I would've hidden my stash a little better. I had been at school in class all day and desperately needed a joint before showering and heading to bed. Except the joint I had rolled the night before was gone, as was the grinder and the plastic baggy of weed.

My parents both knew I smoked back in high school. I had gotten in trouble for it when they found weed in my book bag, two weeks with no phone, TV, or friends. To be honest, it was a nice break for me. I was never one to sit on my phone all day anyway. I wouldn't tell them, but their punishment was relaxing.

After that, I kept my smoking under wraps, but never fully quit. I always had some anxiety issues, especially living on this street, and weed calmed me down. I wasn't a fucking stoner or anything, but I did smoke most nights before bed.

My mom was never supposed to find out I still smoked. I didn't even know how she had a suspicion—I was so careful—but evidently, not careful enough.

When I realized my things were missing, I went downstairs to find her sitting at the kitchen table, all of my paraphernalia on display like I was a criminal. She stared at me, dark circles under her eyes, still in her scrubs. Her hair was in a messy, loose ponytail, frizzed up curls surrounding her hairline. My mom was never good at doing hair, not like me. They say the ability to braid skips a generation, and they're right. My nana was a good braider, a good hairstylist, and she always did my mom's hair for her. There was no need for my mom to learn, so she never did.

She worked as a CNA in a nursing home, and it felt like she was always at work. She worked twelve hour shifts, more times a week than she should. I would look exhausted if I were her too.

"What is this?" she asked, although we both knew the answer. I stared back at her, blinking. Once, twice, three times. My silence did not convince her to drop the topic like I hoped it would. "Junie. Why are you doing drugs? This could ruin your career."

"I don't have a career yet, Mom," I reminded her. I was still just in school, nowhere close to graduating. By the time I needed to be clean for a drug test, I would be. "It's just weed."

"Just weed?" she almost scoffed. "Marijuana is a gateway drug, June! Didn't you have to do the DARE program in high school? It could kill you! What if you get something laced? What do you do then?"

"I wouldn't get something laced," I countered, although there'd be no way to convince her of that. I couldn't tell her that my usual dealer was a nice old man who worked at the gyro shop downtown and that he always smoked his own product to ensure customer safety. She would think I was a lunatic. "It's really not a big deal. And I'm twenty, so I can make my own decisions."

"This is because of that boy, isn't it?" the way she spit out the words confused me. So much hatred, though I had no clue who she could be talking about. I hadn't had a boyfriend since high school, and my parents had adored Colin. They still brought him up to this day, even after we broke up and I begged them to never bring him up again. They didn't know the whole truth about the situation with him, and they never would. So Colin was not the boy that she so clearly disliked, even though he should've been.