Chapter One
Juno
“We are environmentally friendly already, Daria. We are very well aware of how natural resources can be used to create and support the life that we live. We don’t have plastic around the house. We have jars, zero waste products, and we compost and recycle everything. But you cannot make me go vegan. We’re already vegetarians.”
I enjoyed these types of mornings. Me sitting in the breakfast nook of our kitchen, while my two moms discussed how they could contribute to an eco-friendly life. Sure, I cared about the world and all the animals living in it…but veganism was a step too far for me as well.
“I think we should at least try. What if we go a month without animal products? We might enjoy all the new things we can eat,” Mom said, looking over at me with her tea in hand.
“What do you think, Juni?”
I shrugged. “I don’t think I can go full-vegan. I mean, isn’t that just eating plants and tofu all the time? And I’m allergic to soy. I don’t like almond or oat milk. How am I supposed to eat my cereal in the morning?”
“Maybe you can get used to it,” she said, puckering her lips. Mom, whose real name was Daria, was the one who birthed me. I always called her Mom, but when it came to my other mom, I used her first name to get her attention. Aggie. We decided on that when I was four years old. It was too confusing for them to hear me call out for them, and neither of them knew who I wanted to read me my bedtime story.
They’ve been married for over eighteen years, and adopted me shorty after. They met at a hippie event. No idea if that was really what you called it, but that’s what they told me. Living with two moms was fun. I didn’t miss the aspect of having a dad, and both my moms were very loving. They supported me in everything I did, but of course there were times in which I wished I wouldn’t live at home anymore. I liked my privacy, and in our house, that was a very rare thing.
Our house was pretty much an open space, with the kitchen and living area being one big room. Upstairs, their bedroom didn’t have a door. Instead, a big curtain separated the hallway from their room.
And then, by climbing up a ladder, there was my bedroom. I slept in the attic, which was fairly big with a large ceiling window. When I wanted to have some peace, I pushed my bedside table over the opening in my floor.
“I don’t think I can get used to eating and drinking plants,” I told her, then got up from the table to grab my backpack. “I’m off to school. I’m hanging out with Pixie later. Don’t wait on me for dinner,” I said.
“Have fun!” they both called out.
I walked outside to get to my bike, but before I could reach it, I had to step over bags of soil and empty pots. Aggie loved her flowers and plants, but seventy percent of them took up the whole space inside and outside the house. It looked like a jungle, but I wasn’t complaining.
“Someone’s tired,” I heard Pixie say as she stopped her bike in front of the little gate of our house. I pushed my bike over to her, making sure not to knock over anything.
“I’ve been up writing that stupid paper all night. Since when do we have deadlines?” I asked. Pixie and I went to Memphis Progressive School. Since our parents were hippies, and didn’t agree with the traditional way of learning, they valued experience and wanted us to learn by doing, not by sitting there and listening to a teacher who has to follow the pace of every other school.
At a progressive school we chose our own subjects. Things we were really interested in. Before that, I was homeschooled by Aggie. We did have five classes that followed somewhat the normal school system like English, History, and Math, but those classes took place only once a week. Right now, I was learning about music and artists in the eighties, and also about recycling, since that was a huge part at home. I wanted to contribute to whatever was going on at home. Last year, I decided to do a presentation on LGBTQ+. Mom and Aggie were a big inspiration, and my teachers loved what I put together.
“Since you started to get lazier every day, Juno. You pissed Benji off a few times last week. No wonder he’s giving you deadlines.”
I sighed. I didn’t piss our principal off. He’s just a little pussy when it comes to students who tell him no. Which is the whole point of that school anyway. Us students decide what we wanna do, and if there’s something we’re not interested in, we can just go on to the next thing. We were allowed to work at our own pace.
“Whatever,” I mumbled.
Chapter Two
Juno
Our school was a big, old house. It only had three classrooms, and three teachers teaching twenty-five students, but not at once. I had six classmates, all were around my age, and the other kids were younger.
Our classroom wasn’t like a regular one. Instead of desks, we had three large couches in the middle of the room, a few carpets on the floor, and walls that were covered in paintings. Nothing matched. None of the couches were the same, each carpet had a different pattern on it. The ceilings were high, and the windows big. We would have lots of light in this classroom, if it weren’t for the constant rain and fog this time of year.
I sat down on one of the couches with Pixie next to me. Pixie was fun and adventurous. She definitely was the one that matched this school the most. Her clothes were always colorful, and her short, blonde hair was wild and different.
We had no dress code at Memphis, so mom-jeans, sneakers, and a large sweater was my daily outfit. I didn’t see the point in dressing up for school. There was one guy, Gus, who liked to come to school in either a tie or bow-tie. His hair was always perfectly gelled back, and his shoes were always shiny. Not sure how comfortable it was to lounge on the couches with a belt as tight as his, but he didn’t seem to care.
“Good morning, students,” Benji’s voice filled the room, and we all looked at him, wondering what he was doing here this early. Normally, he was in his office until lunch, and that’d be the first time we’d see him every day.
Benji was in his forties, but his gray hair and beard made him look much older. His goofy personality fit right in here. He built this school a few years ago, and parents like mine were grateful to have him. They knew we could be creative and follow our wants and needs without anyone telling us not to.
“I have some bad, and some good news,” he said, looking around the room. “Jonathan left us,” he announced, and everyone in the room gasped.
“Did he die?” Pixie asked.
“He did not die, Pixie,” Benji said. “But he decided that he didn’t want to teach at Memphis anymore. God knows why, but he left a note Friday night and, poof!” he made a bomb-exploding gesture with his hands. “He was gone. Lucky me, I have a friend who’s always wanted to come teach at Memphis. He should be here any second,” he said, looking at the door.
I raised an eyebrow. “And did your friend ever teach students like us?” I asked.
Benji turned to look at me, and he mimicked me by raising his own eyebrow. “I appreciate your concern, Juno. He did not teach students like you before, no. But he will adapt. He’s a good guy. A musician, actually. I’m sure he can help you out with your subject,” he told me with a smile. Thanks to the small number of students at this school, Benji knew what every single one of us was up to.