A Song for Julia

thoughtful. Then she said, “Mom didn’t like Crank. But I did. He called me Alex.” She smiled.
    I wish she’d talk about something other than Crank. “Let’s talk about something else, okay?”
    Carrie gave me a sideways look, and I asked Alexandra, “How is school going for you?”
    She frowned. “I don’t like being the new girl. Again. They’re mean here.”
    Oh, Alex. I sighed. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I went through that when we were in Bethesda. It was hard.”
    She said, “I did make a friend, though. Her name’s Michelle, and she’s in my homeroom. We eat lunch together. And Mom said I can go to Michelle’s New Year’s party, if I’m good over Christmas.”
    “I’m glad you made a friend,” I said.
    Ten minutes later, we were headed home in Mom’s minivan. I had to shed my heavy coat and gloves, which were appropriate for Boston but certainly not here. Carrie switched on the radio and flipped it to a different station.
    I froze.
    Familiar chords were pouring out of the speakers, and then I heard Crank’s voice.
    “Oh, my God,” I said. It was one thing to hear it live or the recording. It was something else entirely to hear it over the radio all the way across the country.
    “Is that it?” Carrie asked.
    I nodded. Alexandra leaned forward in between the seats. “That’s your band?”
    “Yeah,” I said, and she squealed.
    By the time we reached the highway, Carrie looked over at me and said, “This song is about you.”
    I nodded, didn’t say anything.
    Her eyes were big, and she had a huge grin on her face. In a quick, excited voice, she said, “Oh, my God, that is so cool.”
    I grinned back but felt a little apprehensive. I knew it was going to be a matter of seconds now before she asked me about Crank.
    Not even that long.
    “So, what’s going on with you and Crank?”
    “Nothing really,” I said.
    She looked at me. “Talk to me, Julia. Did he do something? I just…don’t get it. I’m not trying to be a nag, but … being honest? I’ve never seen you happy before. Ever. And I want to see that again.”
    I grimaced. “Harry showed up in Boston.”
    “Oh, no,” she said, her voice hushed.
    “He showed up at the club we were playing last night. And Crank beat him up.”
    Carrie said, “I’m loving Crank more every time you mention him.”
    “Me too,” I whispered.
    “Then why did you break up with him?”
    I shook my head. “Because I’m afraid, okay? For the first time in my life, I’m … doing what I want. I’m living a life that’s mine, one that I chose. I’m afraid of losing that.”
    She was silent for a few moments. “Look, it’s none of my business. But … I think you’re making a mistake. You’re not the kid you were in China. You need to look in the mirror and really see yourself. When I look at you I see someone who cares. You’re smart, organized as hell, and you try to treat people the right way. And you’re a hell of a lot stronger than you think you are.”
    “I’m a lot of things,” I said, “But I don’t think strong is one of them.”
    She rolled her eyes. “Julia—”
    I held a hand up. “Just … stop, okay? I know what you’re trying to do. But I’ve got to work through this on my own, all right?”
    And then I felt a hand on my arm. A small hand. I turned in my seat, and Alexandra leaned forward and said, “I want you to be happy, too.”
    I blinked back tears and held her hand.

    Always forgive (Crank)
    I clicked on the play button, and my own personal Christmas mix started to play. It had the traditionals that everyone loved, but it also had some of my personal favorites: songs like The Vandals’ “Oi to the World” and “Hang Myself from the Tree.”
    You gotta have a sense of humor about these things.
    Once the music was playing, I sat down on the couch and stretched out, looking up at the ceiling.
    Sean was stressed about Mom being in the house. He was doing his best to contain it, but I could see it from the way he paced in the living room, his temper slightly shorter than normal. Mom was stressed about being in the house. Both of them stressed me out. Plus, we were all stressed wondering if Dad was going to be able to call tonight, as he’d said. It’s one thing to hope and plan, but when you’re on a foreign deployment with the military, there are no guarantees.
    I hated that he was out there, living in some tent camp in Kuwait, instead of home with us. Of course, he might well have ended up