“Yeah, I used to be in that show. The Mickey Mouse Club.”
It’s a breezy yet sunny August evening in Millington, Tennessee. There’s this tiny bridge over a burn at the end of my garden and if you cross over it with caution, it leads to a tyre-swing hanging from a huge oak, on top of a small mound. When we first bought the house two years ago, the solicitor used the surrounding area as a main feature, showing us how child friendly everything was. Even though I was twelve at the time, it didn’t mean I was too old to use what the previous owners had left behind.
Because there’s only room for one person to swing from it, that what was I liked about it best. When I moved to Millington with my mom and newly acquired step dad, I was still travelling to my old school about thirty miles away. It was ridiculous. I spent two years of my life catching three buses, just so I could be with my old friends in a familiar environment. You don’t meet a whole lot of kids who can genuinely say they enjoy school. I mean yeah, the popular ones can get by but it doesn’t mean they look forward to going. Me, I could honestly say I woke up with the knowledge I was going to have a brilliant day.
But then there’s that well known phrase, you know the one, “All good things come to an end.” Back then I couldn’t care less. Now it has such a whole new meaning. When my mom and complete ass of a step dad decided the journey I took every day to school was too much of a drain on their purse strings, it was agreed (without my say in the matter) that it would be more ideal if I converted to the local high school. This turned out to be the biggest mistake of my life.
You know that feeling when you walk into a room full of people, an instantly you know you’re not going to fit in. Instantly it becomes obvious you’re just not one of them. I can’t imagine a better way to describe what it was like upon my arrival at Jeeter High. It was just this overwhelming sense of oddity, not belonging to any particular gang. That’s exactly what I was. A misfit.
But then there was that vital math lesson just two weeks before we broke off for summer. 22nd of June. The turning point on my new life in Millington. Up until then, well it’s not something I like to admit often, I was a stalker of the one boy who got me through the summer I had destined to be the worst of my life. From that moment I haven’t just spoken to him once. Oh no, things have progressed a whole lot further since then. We no longer just acknowledge the fact each other exists. As the best summer of my fourteenth year is drawing to an end, I am sitting underneath the huge oak tree near the back of my house, basking in the sun and conversing with my new fully fledged friend, Justin Timberlake. However at this point in time I see absolutely no reason for him to know only last year this would have been a picture from my dreams.
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“Yeah, I used to be in that show. The Mickey Mouse Club.”
I tear from my thoughts as Justin breaks the comfortable silence we’ve just been enjoying in the sun. Of course I know what he’s just told me already. I was his stalker after all. He smiles and squints his eyes from the sun as he rolls over to face me.
“I think that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Coming back here.”
All this summer we’ve been discussing, talking, sharing funny moments. But today he’s been more willing to discuss than I’ve ever seen. Of course, all the kids at school know about the Mickey Mouse Club. It’s one of Justin’s key factors to his popularity at Jeeter High. But they don’t know the whole story. They merely idolise the fact he was in one of the biggest teen shows around, mixing with television types, meeting celebrities children would dream about. They know about it, to the extent that when he walks past groups of girls in the corridor they’ll start whispering about his experience with showbiz at such a young age, or how they fancied the one he acted alongside. But somehow Justin’s always kept a good deal of the story to himself. Of course he tells his other friends about what it was like but he’s never really discussed it in length with anyone else. This summer he’s really gone ahead and told me the whole story.
I don’t know how to respond to him. I have no experience with the subject at all. When the show was on I wasn’t stalking him then so I’ve never seen an episode. The only thing I can relate to, is knowing one place in your life so well and never imagining leaving it. That was the experience I had with all the different schools I attended. I can imagine that was what it must have been like for Justin leaving the Mickey Mouse Club. Thinking you’re going to go on doing this for the rest of your life and then being torn apart from it at such a rapid pace, you lose all ability to think about what happened properly.
“Justin I-…can I ask you something?”
Justin pauses for a moment and stares into the hazy blue abyss above us. His eyes have turned a wild electric colour, something that happens when the sun is shining particularly brightly. I can’t help but keep my eyes transfixed on his as he slowly turns to me again. My eyes are such a dull grey colour I almost feel drawn to his.
He smiles. “Sure…anything.”
It’s my turn to pause as I choose one specific question. There’s so many things I want to ask him. He’s undoubtedly the most popular guy in our year and I’ve only known him for several months. Yet he’s still choosing to spend the majority of his summer with me. He could be, I don’t know, running off with some prettier girl or hanging around with a cooler gang. Not sitting under some tree at the back of possibly the quietest person in the year group.
But I’m not quiet. And I love Justin for being able to see that. When I’m on my own with someone, out of school, I become a whole different person. I act so different around different people I sometimes worry myself that I’ll never know the real me. When I was at my old school thirty miles from here, I thought I was truly happy and never dreamed about turning into the freak I am now. Back then I was the same to anyone and everyone.
Here, I’ve developed a schizophrenic character.
At school I talk to no one. No teachers, no pupils, for Christ’s sake I hardly have any friends…alright, no friends. At home I’m different girl. Being fourteen everyone assumes I just have severe mood swings all the time. The amount of times I hear “typical teenager” or “it’s probably just teenage angst” really pisses me off. I end up storming off into my room which just makes the whole situation worse. However I think I can place some of the blame on my step dad John. I know the stories “evil wicked step dad” etc. But I swear that’s exactly what he is and I can justify it. When he first moved in with me and me mom, she insisted I call him “Uncle John” because maybe that would make it easier for me. Uncle John? Don’t be ridiculous. Not only does it sound stupid, but at the same time it sounds incestuous. I thought it was hilarious when I started calling him un-Uncle John but he failed to see the funny side. He just called me immature. How dare he have the cheek? He’s not even my father.
Then there are his own two bratty children. David and Hannah. David’s not so bad. He’s a year younger than me but at least he’s mature enough to talk too sometimes. Hannah…I have difficulty describing Hannah. She ten but from her height and features everyone assumes she’s about eight. It was shit when they moved in. My mom and I had to move away from the small apartment we were living in and into a new two story house with un-Uncle John and his stupid children. I was twelve at the time so I didn’t care if I was being mature or not. From what I knew, John was the reason I moved school, so naturally I hated him and everything associated with him.
“What did you want to ask?”
I jump at the sudden sound of his voice and sit up. The sun temporarily blinds me and I automatically squint my eyes. “Oh yeah. I mean, you were on that show for a while right?”
He nods uncertainly, unsure of where I’m heading.
“How did you...I mean, you’re quite famous!”
Justin’s sits up. He’s definitely grown over the summer. He must be at least several inches taller than me. “Francesca, what are you talking about?” He begins to laugh at my confused state. I don’t even know what I’m talking about. There’s just so much I want to know about him that so many others do.
Of course, he has other friends too. There’s Trace, who from what I know has been his closest friend since he was a baby. Trace is fourteen as well but I’ve never really talked with him as thoroughly as I do with Justin. Trace and I don’t really mix. We share a mutual understanding in the sense that he is friends with Justin…and I am friends with Justin. Other than that, we aren’t often seen in a three.
“I mean, you were on that ‘Search for a Star show’ or whatever it was called when you were about ten-”
“Star Search.” He corrects quickly. “Yeah, that was pretty early. But I thought it was what I wanted from a young age.”
“You mean being on stage?” I question slowly.
“No…just, singing. Performing. I thought it was my life ambition or something…” He trails off, his mind clearly thinking about what he’s just said.
“Justin…you sound like an old man. You’re only fourteen! You could still do anything you wanted.”
“Well, yeah I guess. But what I really want to do…I want to do basketball.”
He suddenly looks more alert and his eyes widen. I can see this is a subject he’s obviously put a lot of thought into.
“What, you mean as a hobby?”
He stares out towards the rest of Millington. It’s a great view from this hill. I used to come up here all the time after John moved in with us. I just hated being in the house with him. School didn’t really prove an escape providing the fact the only thing I looked forward to was double math on a Friday. I mean, who enjoys going to double math? No wonder people thought I was a freak. After I’d spoken to someone for the first time they never came back to talk again. I just presumed that was school life for you. Hey, I had twisted impressions of things.
“No. Not as a hobby…as a profession. Yeah, that’s what I wanna do.”
I stare at him. Is he serious? I think so. Being on television at the tender age of ten. Getting into Mickey Mouse club barely scraping teenage years. Performing on stages at pre-school. It’s obvious Justin’s going on to become big. But in basketball? I mean sure, I’ve seen the boy play and there’s no doubt he has unbounded natural talent. But I swear he should continue with the whole entertainment thing. I’ve never seen anything like what he does up there. He looks so comfortable…as if singing is like talking to him. And his voice…are fourteen year olds supposed to be able to sing that well. When we did the school play last year I genuinely believed he was lip-synching. He couldn’t just abandon what he has.
“My mom doesn’t think so…” His eyes suddenly shrink to their natural shape as his eyes fall forlornly to the grass.
Ah. I knew there was something. I’ve met Lynn a few times this summer. And if there’s one thing I’ve learnt…it’s that it’s very obvious Justin is Lynn’s boy. Not just that he looks up to his mother as a role model, but their characteristics are uncannily alike. It’s quite the scary experience. I can see why Justin is bringing up the subject of his mom now. He mom is very…well, if she thinks something is good for Justin she’ll go right ahead with it. I think it started with getting voice lessons. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying she’s pushy…I mean I’m completely with her on the whole “singing thing” with Justin. Its’ just that I can completely understand if it was Lynn who doesn’t think it’s a good idea for Justin to pursue a career in basketball. She’s often said it’s completely his decision but I think she somehow knows something even Justin himself doesn’t.
Justin and his mom are very close, that’s something else I’ve learnt. If something happens that bothers Justin in the slightest he’ll bring it up with her. I used to be like that with my mom. When my dad left we suddenly developed this weird relationship where she acted about ten years younger than she was. I mean, that’s not what you need when you’re going through a divorce is it? You don’t really need a sister figure. Well...I didn’t.
Justin looks up from the ground to meet my gaze. “Well, don’t you think it’s up to you?” I say a little harsher than I mean to.
He holds my stare for a second or too as he tries to assemble his thoughts. “Yes. And no. My mom’s usually right. But I overheard her the other night…”
I nod for him to continue as he repositions his self for whatever he’s about to tell me. “It was a pretty late phone call actually so I guess that’s why she hasn’t told me yet. Plus I checked where the call was made from…and it came up with a Florida code.”
“Well what did they say?” It must be something that’s quite important if he’s taking this long to tell me.
“Well their name began with a ‘C’ but I didn’t really pick up a whole lot of the conversation because the TV was on, but she mentioned Bob Westbrook, my singing coach and then I swear she said my name more than once. I dunno, I just get the feeling they were taking about me.”
“Well a lot of people talk about you Justin. Whoever the ‘C’ person is probably just knew who you were and was asking about you.” I point out reasonably. If there’s one thing that Justin does the most, it’s worry and think about the really tiny things. I’ve seen him do it. He can overhear his name somewhere and then worry about it for days. But he’s popular at school, not to mention famous…of course people are probably going to mention his name once in a while considering he goes to the same school as them.
“I guess,” he mumbles slightly before turning his gaze back down to the floor. His eye suddenly catches the time on my watch. “Shit, Francesca, weren’t we supposed to be home an hour ago?”
I glance down at my Mickey Mouse watch, its hand currently being bent in an awkward position to show how late I am. To be honest I could spend another five hours out here with Justin even if it is turning dark. I know tomorrow term begins again at school but I want this summer to last forever so badly. I’ve never enjoyed a summer so much I never want it to end since we moved. In fact, even before that I don’t think anything can top how I feel now.
He pushes himself off the ground stiffly and holds out a hand to pull me up. I don’t want to go home. I don’t care how whiney or childish that sounds because that’s how I genuinely feel. I brush a few tufts of grass of my pants and as the cool breeze of evening is slowly evaporating and have a horrible moment of realisation. You know that feeling you get when you’re out really late and it’s you’re just having so much fun you get caught up in the moment? Then at the last minute you realise you have to be up by five the next morning or there’s an English essay just waiting to be done when you return. If that feeling was trebled, I guess you could say that’s pretty much how I’m feeling at the moment.
It suddenly occurs to me that even though I’ve spent just about the whole summer with the guy I used to dream about (let’s just keep that one to myself), will that change anything at school? I mean, what if he stays exactly the same and acts like I don’t exist? I’m not popular…so what if he spends all his time with the other guys? What if…no, wait, he’ll probably meet some girl and forget I’m even there. What if this new term ends up the same as the last one? What if-
Justin suddenly pulls me closer, wrapping himself around me. Is he going to…was he about to…kiss me? He draws back before I have time to think about it anymore.
“I’m sorry, it’s just…it’s been a great summer right?”
I nod, not able to move much more than my head. He just hugged me. Justin just hugged me. How is this going to make me want to go home now?
“Thank you.” He whispers, before he starts again back down the hill towards my back garden. We arrive at the gate. I stop unwillingly. He smiles at me.
“I’m glad I got talking to you Francesca.”
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“You’re late.”
I ignore Hannah coy remark as I quietly attempt to make a run to my room. My mom has yoga this evening and I conclude I have exactly three minutes before she gets back. It’s John I should be worried about. He’s really been pissing me off lately. It’s not just the fact I’m constantly ignored, that’s how I prefer it. It’s the fact I can’t put one foot wrong or else he’ll pounce no matter what I’ve done. I swear, if Hannah knocks over the milk at breakfast or something I’ll be wiping it up the moment John walks in…and then I’ll get the blame. It’s always “his precious angel” over me every time. It’s pathetic of me. I’m pathetic. I’m fourteen coming on fifteen and something as small as that will affect my mood for the rest of the day.
I trip over David’s skateboard en route to my room and curse loudly. I don’t care if Hannah hears me and runs to tell John, she does that too often for me to care anymore. Sometimes I wish she would choke on her own poker straight black hair and die.
During the next ten minutes I find myself sitting motionlessly on my back and peering over to the clock ticking loudly on my bedside table. It’s counting down the seconds until a new term at school begins again. The hand suddenly seems to go so much faster than I remember it. If I could rewind it back to freeze my evening I would. But it continues, faster and faster, determined to get to five forty-five when my alarm’s going to mark a new day at Jeeter High. The rhythmic ticking eventually sends me to sleep against me will but before I flutter my eyelids shut for the final time I find a new reason for it to continue clicking. I imagine it’s counting down the hours until I’ll see Justin again.
Tick…tick…tick…the shrill alarm of the morning comes much sooner that I would’ve liked.
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