Eli makes up for it a little by informing me that Jake is out back and allowing me to cut through the exit in the stockroom rather than walk all the way around the building. I push open the heavy door and find Jake hosing down Joplin, a bucket of soapy water at his feet. My heart warms a little at the sight of the familiar black van. It’s stupid, it’s just a piece of machinery, metal and bolts and rubber, but I’ve missed it.
Jake is wearing black jeans, as usual, and a shabby dark gray wife beater. No fedora today. Other than the fact that the bruise below his eye has faded, he looks exactly the same, even though so much has changed. But of course he wouldn’t look any different. It’s only been a few weeks.
I wait for a few seconds, and then I say, “Joplin’s looking good.”
The idea was to have a smooth, cool opening line, something that would give me the upper hand, but in this case, the element of surprise does not work in my favor. When Jake turns in the direction of my voice, the hose turns with him—and douses my entire front.
“Shit!” He jerks the nozzle away, shuts off the spray of water and looks at me, shocked. “Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay,” I say quickly. I wipe the cold water off of my face with one hand and pull the bottom of my drenched shirt away from my middle. “Uh, I actually needed the cool-down anyway.”
“Oh.” He stares at me with his mouth open, like he’s trying to decide what to say. Finally he clears his throat and says, “Um. Do you want to come inside? I can get you a towel—and…and I wanted to show you something. If you don’t mind.”
This isn’t how I pictured my first time in Jake’s room, but here I am: standing in the middle of it, dripping water all over his hardwood floor. He goes to the bathroom for a towel as I survey his space. It’s pretty much what I imagined it to be; the walls are layered ceiling-to-floor in posters of old rock stars and punk bands, with a few jazz artists thrown in for good measure, signed flyers from local shows and newspaper clippings from various protests.
I’m reading about two guys who scaled a skyscraper in Manhattan to raise awareness for global warming when Jake reenters the room. He wordlessly hands me a blue towel.
“Thanks,” I say, patting off my face. We look at each for a while, both silent. I realize he’s waiting for me to make the first move. I’m not sure where to start—but I figure there’s no point in beating around the bush. “I read June’s letter.”
“Oh.” He blinks a few times, but doesn’t move. “Did it help?”
“Yes,” I say, “and no. It said all of the right things—and none of the right things. Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” he says, without hesitation, and I know he’s telling the truth, because Jake never thinks twice about telling me when I’m not making sense.
The look on his face draws me by the anchor chain between us closer to him. I’m swept a step forward, my heart so tight in my chest it could burst.
“I really miss her,” I say. My voice cracks a little around the edges.
“I know.”
“And you.”
“What?”
“You. I miss you.”
His mouth hangs open, and then he smiles sadly, in a way that makes my insides ache, with longing and hurt and everything else standing between us.
“I…miss you, too,” he says.
It’s what I want to hear, but—
“I’m still pissed,” I tell him.
“I know.”
“Good.” All of that was hard enough to say out loud that I have to look away for a minute. Eventually I meet his eyes again and say, “So what did you want to show me?”
Jake goes to the vinyl record player sitting on top of his dresser, turns it on and sets the needle. He holds up the record cover—it’s the autographed Jimi Hendrix album.
“I wanted you to hear it,” he explains. “Listening to Jimi Hendrix on vinyl is something I think every person should experience at least once in their life.” He sits down on the floor with his back against his bed, and I lower myself down next to him, close enough so that our hips and thighs touch. The contact sparks something inside of me, hot and breathtaking, thrumming.
We listen to the music in mutual appreciative silence. Jimi makes the guitar come alive, makes it wail and scream and rage and sing, each soaring riff searing through me. This is the kind of music that changes people, the kind of music that changes the world.
The same kind of music that changed me.
I close my eyes, soaking it in, and when I open them again, Jake is looking at me funny. His mouth slants to one side like he doesn’t know whether or not it’s okay to smile.
“I’m sorry,” he says, “I just—I didn’t expect you to show up. Ever. I mean, I’m glad you did. You just caught me off guard, is all.”
“I wasn’t going to,” I say. “But I listened to your CD.”
A lengthy pause. “What did you think?”
“It sucks.”
“Really?” His mouth turns down in disappointment. “You didn’t like the music?”
“No, the music was great. And your song at the end, I loved it. I did. It’s just—you told me that the art of the mix CD is like a book. That it has to have the exciting hook in the beginning and the right closer that wraps everything up the way it needs to be. Your song was amazing, but there’s a problem. It’s not an ending.”
“Not sure I follow you.”
I take his hand in mine. He looks down at our interlocked fingers and then back up at me. His eyes are this unreal shade of green. I remember, the first time I saw him in the garden, how that was the first thing I noticed, before I knew anything else about him.
“‘June is over and so are we,’” I say. “I don’t want that to be how things end.”
“You don’t?”
I meant it when I said I was still mad. There’s no instant fix for this. But I care about Jake, and that means something, right? Maybe it’s a mistake, maybe I’ll get hurt in the end. But maybe not. I loved June. I still love her, and that will never change, but for the first time in my life, I truly, truly don’t want to be her. I don’t want to be so scared all the time. So alone. I want to believe something can be worth it. Worth the pain. Worth the risk.
Deciding to kiss Jake is like standing on the edge of a pool, staring down and wanting to take the leap, but fearing how cold the water will be.
I hold my breath and jump.
saving june: the sound tracks
Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum
1) “Start Me Up,” The Rolling Stones
2) “O Sweet Nothing,” Velvet Underground
3) “Nights in White Satin,” The Moody Blues
4) “Stairway to Heaven,” Led Zeppelin
5) “Gloomy Sunday,” Billie Holiday
6) “Where Is My Mind,” The Pixies
7) “Asking for It,” Hole
8) “Boom Swagger Boom,” Murder City Devils
9) “Train in Vain,” The Clash
10) “Under Pressure,” Queen, featuring David Bowie
11) “If Six Was Nine,” The Jimi Hendrix Experience
12) “American Girl,” Tom Petty
13) “Tangled Up in Blue,” Bob Dylan
14) “Don’t Know Much About History,” Sam Cooke
15) “Michelangelo,” Emmylou Harris
16) “Bang Bang (My Baby Shot Me Down),” Nancy Sinatra
17) “God,” John Lennon
18) “Where Did You Sleep Last Night,” Nirvana
19) “The Sounds of Silence,” Simon & Garfunkel
Jake’s “Say My Name” Mix
1) “Me and Bobby McGee,” Janis Joplin
2) “Come On Eileen,” Dexy’s Midnight Runners
3) “Demon John,” Jeff Buckley
4) “Stephanie Says,” Velvet Underground
5) “Daniel,” Elton John
6) “Layla,” Eric Clapton
7) “A Boy Named Sue,” Johnny Cash
8) “
Ruby Tuesday,” The Rolling Stones
9) “Peggy Sue,” Buddy Holly
10) “Joey,” Concrete Blonde
11) “Charlotte Sometimes,” The Cure
12) “Jacqueline,” Franz Ferdinand
13) “Gloria,” Patti Smith
14) “Deanna,” Nick Cave
15) “Allison,” Elvis Costello
16) “Clementine,” Elliott Smith
17) “Hey Jude,” The Beatles
Saving June
1) “Going to California,” Led Zeppelin
2) “This Time Tomorrow,” The Kinks
3) “Thunder Road,” Bruce Springsteen
4) “Take a Chance on Me,” ABBA
5) “Falling Is Like This,” Ani DiFranco
6) “Let It Be,” The Beatles
7) “Southern Cross,” Crosby, Stills and Nash
8) “You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” The Rolling Stones
9) “Never Argue With a German If You’re Tired or European,” Jefferson Airplane
10) “Rebel Girl,” Bikini Kill
11) “Touch Me,” The Doors
12) “California Love,” Tupac, featuring Dr. Dre
13) “God Only Knows,” The Beach Boys
14) “On the Radio,” Regina Spektor
15) “Fix You,” Coldplay
16) “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart (Wilco Cover),” Nickel Creek
17) “Chelsea Hotel No. 2,” Leonard Cohen
18) “The Book of Love,” Magnetic Fields
19) “3 Rounds and a Sound,” Blind Pilot
BONUS TRACK: “Saving June,” Jake Tolan
acknowledgments
First I need to thank my agent and biggest advocate, Diana Fox, for having enough confidence in me and my writing for the both of us. I couldn’t ask for better. I’d also like to thank my wonderful editor, Natashya Wilson, for falling so in love with my story and wanting to share it with the world. And thank you to everyone else at Harlequin Teen for making that happen.
To my earliest supporters—Lisa Rowe, Joanne Ferlas, Bridget Clark, Nell Gram, Gabrielle Rajerison, Ann Finstad, Erin Whipple, Rebekah Ross, thank you for your general awesomeness and love. Kim Montelibano Heil, you helped give me the push do this. Anna Genoese, you are the coolest and smartest person I know, and I respect your opinion more than anything. Thanks for never telling me I suck, even when I do. Olivia Castellanos, this book would not exist without you, period. Thank you for being the first person to ever read it, thank you for being on the receiving end of so many emails and phone calls throughout this entire process, and thank you even more for never doubting this could happen. Your friendship means the world to me.
My fifth-grade teacher, Eric Schweinzger—thank you for sharing my essays out loud in class, giving me glowing praise on my silly short stories, and basically helping a kid who wasn’t that great at much feel like maybe she could be pretty good at this one thing, if nothing else.
Mom, thank you for raising me on such awesome music, and for everything else. And I do mean everything. Your support is beyond words, and I love you.
Hannah Harrington, Saving June
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