Burn It Clean

"Junie Quinn Idler, this is just an awful idea. We could die. You've gone crazy." Willa shut her eyes tight and clenched her fists, willing all this trouble to dissolve.

"Juniper," she corrected coldly. She was seventeen now, and hadn't been Junie for almost a year.

Nana Idler had refused to make the change, as well. She'd also chosen to ignore Juniper's newfound vegetarianism. Every morning, her plate was made the same: two eggs, one slice of toast, and twin fatty strips of bacon, thick and greasy. Juniper didn't argue anymore. She simply left them untouched on her plate.

Willa shook her head vigorously, second and third guessing her best friend's plan. She looked more childlike than Juniper did, with pink cheeks, a rounded body, and a wide, upturned nose.

Sometimes she even wore her hair in two long braids to match her sister, Charlie Jane. Juniper hated it when she did that. Willa insisted, though - it made little CJ so happy.

"Trust me," said Juniper, "it will be just fine. I've been doing controlled burns with Nana Idler ever since Mama left."

It was true. Just last week, in fact, they'd been hired to burn down a series of dilapidated old structures at the Clarence farm.

Fire had always been a part of Junie's life. She and Nana made almost as much money burning as they did from tending their own farmland. The Idler girls - Nana and her Junebug - carried out prescribed burns for farmland, burns of old and unsafe structures, and anything else that required a steady hand.

It was true she'd never done it on her own before, though.

Nonetheless, Juniper wasn't scared. She watched as the flames reached higher. She liked the smell of smoke. She inhaled deeply, shutting her eyes. She had watched with contempt as Willa covered her nose and mouth with the collar of her shirt.

Like casting a spell, Henry Fussner appeared shortly after she summoned the flames. She turned when she heard his old pickup truck coming. To her, it almost drowned out the roar of the fire.

He drove up way too close and fast. Juniper could almost feel the rubbery heat on her toes. Willa stepped back and coughed. Her eyes stung from the red cloud of dirt he had conjured around them.

Juniper stood her ground, though, heart thumping and feet set wide. She maintained eye contact. It felt like staring down an animal.

She could feel the uneasiness just below the surface of his sneer. He was scared. Juniper Idler could smell it.

She hoped Henry couldn't sense her heartbreak in the same way.

This barn had been their special spot since Henry was old enough to ride his bike the four miles from town to the Idler farm. It was theirs until just last week. Henry had found out why Juniper's mama ran off. He'd learned what she did in the city, and with whom.

Juniper had always thought it was a lack of courage or vulnerability that had made her keep the secret. Now, she knew.

It was instinct.

Henry hadn't known who she was - not really. Deep down, though, Juniper had always known him. She knew his heart had limitations. She knew his need to please his Daddy - to impress him, to make him proud - was too much. It far outweighed any affection Henry had ever felt for her. It outweighed his affection for anyone, himself included.

Henry leaned out the window, but he didn't unbuckle his seat belt. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"Just wait 'til I tell my father what you're up to over here," he threatened through clenched teeth.

He sped off before the first tear fell. Juniper was thankful. She thought he'd offered her a small mercy. Willa knew better, though. She'd seen the salty well start to form in the corner of Henry's left eye - same place it always did.

"Go on, then! Go tell Sheriff Daddy, little boy," Juniper screamed into his taillights. Henry held his middle finger in the air, so she knew he heard her.

Nana Idler watched from the window of the blue farmhouse. She knew she'd see Fred Fussner soon enough. She'd known Fred his whole life. Nana Idler had been his soccer coach and 4-H club advisor as a kid.

She knew Fred was a coward - the kind of man who would make fun of his own wife to get a laugh from his buddies. She heard his car pull up and met him on the porch.

"It was a hazard," she explained calmly. "Dry old thing. A structure like that, in the city, would have been condemned years ago." She narrowed her eyes. "I thought that's what we did out here, Fred? Or is it against the rules for me to handle my own property? My own granddaughter?"

Fred's cheeks were flushed. He nodded, scribbling frantically on his yellow legal pad. "I'd never tell you how to raise your own babies or handle your own barn, Mrs. Idler. Just needed to write a report." He scrambled to his car, never having made eye contact. Nana watched him drive away.

She hoped this meant his boy wouldn't be coming around anymore. She'd watched Henry Fussner grow up. Nana had been disappointed to see him adopt his father's brand of gutless swagger.

When Fred Fussner was gone, Nana walked steadily toward the barn.

Both girls watched her approach, wide eyed and unable to breathe. Juniper reached for her friend's hand. Willa squeezed reassuringly, but Junie could feel her shaking.

Nana Idler walked a large, slow circle around the barn. They watched her mutely as she tossed something into the fire. It looked like a picture, or maybe an old, yellowed note. Neither girl could tell which. They didn't dare ask.

The old woman turned to them and nodded once. Then, they watched her dark silhouette move against the flames and disappear into the night sky. After a minute they heard the rusty hinges of the farmhouse door.

Juniper thought there'd be hell to pay in the morning.

There were only fresh eggs, with a side of toast.