Hannah Harrington - Saving June

According to the puppy-of-the-month calendar hanging next to the phone in the kitchen, my sister June died on a Thursday, exactly nine days before her high school graduation. Mays breed is the golden retrieverpictured is a whole litter of them, nestled side by side in a red wagon amid a blooming spring garden. The word Graduation!! is written in red inside the white square, complete with an extra exclamation point. If shed waited less than two weeks, she would be June who died in June, but I guess she never took that into account.

The only reason Im in the kitchen in the first place is because somehow, somewhere, someone got the idea in their head that the best way to comfort a mourning family is to present them with plated foods. Everyone has been dropping off stupid casseroles, which is totally useless, because nobodys eating anything anyway. We already have a refrigerator stocked with not only casseroles, but lasagnas, jams, homemade breads, cakes and more. Add to that the lemon meringue pie Im holding and the Scott family could open up a restaurant out of our own kitchen. Or at the very least a well-stocked deli.

I slide the pie on top of a dish of apricot tart, then shut the refrigerator door and lean against it. One moment. All I want is one moment to myself.

Harper?

Not that that will be happening anytime soon.

Its weird to see Tyler in a suit. Its black, the lines of it clean and sharp, the knot of the silk tie pressed tight to his throat, uncomfortably formal.

You looknice, he says, finally, after what has to be the most awkward silence in all of documented history.

Part of me wants to strangle him with his dumb tie, and at the same time, I feel a little sorry for him. Which is ridiculous, considering the circumstances, but even with a year in age and nearly a foot in height on me, he looks impossibly young. A little boy playing dress-up in Daddys clothes.

Can I help you with something? I say shortly. After a day of constant platitudes, a steady stream of thank-you-for-your-concern and were-doing-our-best and it-was-a-shock-to-us-too, my patience is shot. It definitely isnt going to be extended to the guy who broke my sisters heart a few months ago.

Tyler fidgets with his tie with both hands. I always did make him nervous. I guess its because when your girlfriends the homecoming queen, and your girlfriends sister iswell, me, its hard to find common ground.

I wanted to give you this, he says. He steps forward and presses something small and hard into my hand. Do you know what it is?

I glance down into my open palm. Of course I know: Junes promise ring. The familiar sapphire stone embedded in white gold gleams under the kitchen light.

The first time June showed it to me, around six months ago, she was at the stove, cooking something spicy smelling in a pan while I grabbed orange juice from the fridge. She was always doing that, cooking elaborate meals, even though I almost never saw her eat any of them.

She extended her hand in a showy gesture as she said, It belonged to his grandmother. Isnt it beautiful? And when she just about swooned, it was all I could do not to roll my eyes so hard they fell out of my head.

I think its stupid, I told her. You really want to spend the rest of your life with that jerk-off?

Tyler is not a jerk-off. Hes sweet. He wants us to move to California together after we graduate. Maybe rent an apartment by the beach.

California. June was always talking about California and having a house by the ocean. I didnt know why she was so obsessed with someplace shed never even been.

Seriously, youre barely eighteen, I reminded her. Why would you even think about marriage?

June gave me a look that made it clear the age difference between us might as well be ten years instead of less than two. Youll understand when youre older, she said. When you fall in love.

I rolled my eyes as I drank straight from the jug, then wiped my mouth off with my sleeve. Yeah, Im so sure.

What, you dont believe in true love?

Youve met our parents, havent you?

Two months later, June caught her precious Tyler macking on some skanky freshman cheerleader at a car wash fundraiser meant to raise money for the band geeks. The only thing really raised was the bar for most indiscreet and stupidest way to get caught cheating on your girlfriend. Tyler was quite the class act.

A month after that disaster, our parents divorce was finalized.

June and I never really talked about either of those things. It wasnt like when we were kids; we werent best friends anymore. Hadnt been in years.

Now, even looking at the ring makes me want to throw up. I all but fling it at Tyler in my haste to not have it in my possession. No. I dont want it. Its yours.

It shouldve been hers, he insists, snatching my hand to try and force it back. We wouldve gotten back together. I know we would have. It shouldve been hers. Keep it.

What is he doing? I want to scream, or kick him in the stomach, or something. Anything to get him away from me.

I dont want it. My voice arches into near hysteria. What makes him think this is appropriate? It is not appropriate. It is so far from appropriate. Okay? I dont want it. I dont.

Our reverse tug-of-war is interrupted by the approach of a stout, so-gray-its-blue-haired woman, who pushes in front of Tyler and tugs me to her chest in a smothering embrace. She has that weird smell all old ladies seem to possess, must and cat litter and pungent perfume, and when she releases me from her death grip, holding me at arms length, my eyes focus enough for a better look. Her clown-red lipstick and pink blush contrast sharply with her papery white skin. Its like a department store makeup counter threw up on her face.

I have no idea who she is, but Im not surprised. An event like this in a town as small as ours has all kinds of people coming out of the woodwork. This isnt the first time today Ive been cornered and accosted by someone Ive never met acting like were old friends.

Its such a tragedy, the woman is saying now. She was so young.

Yes, I agree. I feel suddenly dizzy, the blood between my temples pounding at a dull roar.

So gifted!