The Collected Accounts of June Bloomer

Across newspapers and television, seventeen year old June Bloomer is being shredded across the country for the cataclysmic events she caused in the quiet town of Johnston's creek. However months after the horror, in that forgettable village, June's only four friends are determined to tell the truth of June from the causalities they received first hand and nothing less.


9. Entry seven:

I don’t want this story to have climaxes, and plot-twists, and secrets; but it might only be in the capable hands of Rose that might be what you get. Having said that, I’ll let you in one little secret right now. Four Sommer sisters went away on that April Sunday, with a forecast of thunder crackling through the clouds, and only three Sommer sisters came home.

Johnson’s creek is the kind of place where Sundays are sacred. The majority of its townspeople are christens, and there is a quiet rhythm of a pace as the dress in their finest and head for church. It’s a lazy start for the rest, but eventually we all fall into the same pattern and have well-prepared dinners and movie nights. Generally, I like Sundays. Or rather, I liked Sundays. I don’t like being idle so much any more, but I’d rather be left alone with my thoughts of June than left alone with my family. I can’t pretend I’m okay yet, but this is helping. I think.

This Sunday however, had this bubble of excitement chilling through it. Eve Sommer’s seventeeth birthday party had been a constant topic of conversation riddled through the school. Whether it was the popular kids, with cool smiles and dead eyes, or those who didn’t quite make the cut. In one tiny little miracle, more of Eleanor’s hard-worked miracle than anything else, I had managed to scrape an invite. A doubt miracle, considering June Bloomer had secured her way in too.

See, Eleanor Green has a talent for making friends. And when I say talent I mean its her superpower; she can’t stand it when people hate her and therefore everyone has to like her. It sounds like it would be a difficulty, and for anyone else I suppose it would be. But not Eleanor, who happened to become tennis partners with Eve and from there; El returned the next day with four beautifully-decorated, sticker-ridden invitations.

“Did Barbie stumble home drunk and puke all over your doorstep?” Rose hardly lifted her eyes but the distaste was apparent. “No, funnily enough. But if you don’t want tickets to the best and probably only party happening in the Creek…”

“Fine. We’ll go.” Eleanor grinned as Rose sized up the card with a half-frown, took hold a violet and ribbon sheet and stuck it between her pages as a bookmark. Then the conversation died down, but I swear I saw a smirk in the corner of Rose’s lips. Or maybe it was a trick of the light.

Eve’s birthday party was going to be held in her garden, with little fairy lights dotted in the pale trees that rimmed their ever increasing house. Mr Sommer liked to improve things; and in his spare time he was constantly rebuilding and constructing extensions and sheds until at last the house that had been miles away now skimmed. They’d brought in some party person from the neighbouring city, and it was honestly the only event dotted on the social calendars of the town. While the children, for lack of a better word, were hammered, there was a quaint little tea-gin-party in a far away house The Sommer parents were hosting. Everything had been planned to the upmost little detail.

If it had been up to planning and planning alone, maybe it wouldn't have fallen to pieces.

Rose had gotten a lift there with Eleanor, and Ky insisted he would drop me off even though he had no intention of actually partying. “It’s an experiment, a perfect place to observe.” My stomach lurched and pounded against my frame at the thought of seeing June there.

I arrived to find nothing but absolute chaos in my way in. It’s fair to say as I arrived at the door; it wasn’t exactly invite-exclusive. Eve and Delilah’s city friends had arrived in cars jammed with five people too many, and already the house seemed to burst with people with music wheezing out through the black gate, flung open and welcoming. The limp grass seemed to shake and vibrate with the sound and the heat from bodies already scared away whatever chill could be felt. How was I meant to find Rose and Eleanor here?

The throbs of people spilt sips of their drinks on me as I passed and shook up their casual positions draped on fences and tree trunks. Above there was a thin-veiled cloud of second hand smoke forming, a little from the cigarettes and a little from the fog machine specially ordered from far out, and the tops of people’s heads were being crowned like halos. The ground seemed to creak with the pressure of it all, and I found myself alone in every corner playing leapfrog across the people. No matter the mass of the people, it was impossible to find a familiar face.

“There you are!” I felt a tug pull me from all sides as I recognised the voice the action came from. “I’ve been looking for you for hours…” Eleanor sighed, and the glitter from her eyes sparkled off the artificial lights. The air turned sour and chilled all at once, and as I looked to her right I could find the source of the problem. Holly Sommer was at her side, narrowing her eyes at me with a look that never surrendered.

“Oh crap… I’m sorry.” Eleanor slapped her hands on her cheeks.

“It’s fine, El.” I stammered out, trying to avoid Holly’s glare but she caught it anyway.

“Will you leave us for a minute?” Holly asked Eleanor and I watched her leave with the helplessness of an Aztec human sacrifice being pushed into the heart of a volcano. My heart beat was uncomfortably fast like it was trying to escape the shatter it had faced at her mercy before.

“June Bloomer likes you a lot.” She said, and frowned at the smile that took over my face.

“Really? I, I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what? Know? Please Michael, everyone in school can see you’d rather lose air than her if they cared to even notice.” I didn’t understand what she was getting at, or why she was part of the tiny minority of people who did care at all. Still, I was giddy with the thought. June Bloomer, the June Bloomer I was so split in pieces about, had an affection towards me. No matter how small, it was a start.

“I’m sorry okay,” Holly begins after I’m quiet for a while. “Well, I’m not sorry; it’s just that I think Aubrie likes you, and you don’t even see her.”

“Aubrie?!” I would have spout out a drink if I was lucky enough to have one. A little intoxication couldn’t have harmed at this point. Why would she want me to notice her sister? It was a well known fact Holly and Aubrie were the closest of them all, but even then there was more than a heavy dose of resentment that came from Holly for the most part. I was already a piece of one Sommer’s past and wasn’t particularly eager for another.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t know.” I replied frankly and hoped she could feel the sincerity filtering on my trembling tongue. There was something about her pallid skin, mildly purple lips and unkept blonde hair that created a mental blizzard on the route of my brain to my mouth. She was attractive without any sort of care in the way she looks, and maybe she would have had that light-hearted prettiness of Eve if she let her face relax. Holly had always looked as though on the way to a pessimistic battle since the day I met her.

“Whatever. Maybe you shouldn’t acknowledge her, you’d probably just mess her up. Later, Michael.” And like magic she thinned out into the crowd until I could no longer see her. Any conversation we had was always like this, like the true conversation was happening in a code submerged in the words. Unfortunately, Holly Sommer always forgot to give me the dictionary to translate it all.

I was left in the dark until finally, the world stopped. June Bloomer was in sight, just at the helm of the house wearing a sundress covered in little flowers I couldn’t make out from the distance in a casual vision. My lungs forget their purpose and the people beside me gave me bad looks and no sympathy as I erupted in a minor choking fit. She caught my eye just as I coughed for dear life and I swear I could see a minute smirk.

At this point, I'd like June to know this:

All I am is a boy, June Bloomer, all I am is some mortal one-language-speaking boy. I know this. But around you, I don’t want to believe my entire existence is so normal. I want to be as extraordinary as you. I want to write something so beautiful it makes your eyes well and mouth sigh not dryly, but in exhaustion of a satisfied-with-tragedy heart. I want to write novels that make you anxious to crack the spine of such a glorious book. I want you, and only you, to look into the eyes of a boy next door and see a hero.

What people believe June is won't see my point here. They won't care that I care about her, and they certainty won't care about whatever we had; whether it was love, or unrequited adoration, or just a medium entity, I don't know. But June Bloomer if anything, was my first and greatest love. I suppose this is a big spoiler, but this isn't so much story telling more than it is confessing. My heart both sank and rose as I watched her figure walk closer and closer, until eventually she came to my side.

"June- I- I-" I didn't have a chance to get out my spluttering speech before a splitting screech filled the air and shook the crowd whole as it rang out for a lost Sommer sister.The spoken name curdled with the fear and the blood surely split painting the atmosphere a loud red and black. Suddenly and simultaneously the party and the world flipped on its head and people were running through the crowds, yanking on each other and screaming themselves with tears pouring down their faces and my brain in an attempt to catch up muted them all out. What was going on? Who was lost or dead or neither or both? And why was June so calm about it all, watching the rest with a unfocused expression? I was scared for the answers to all the questions above.

And you know what June said? Among the screaming and the panic and the surreal mix of terror and excitement our town would no longer be strangers to? I’ve been waiting all night for you admit you love me. Suddenly I felt as though I was two-thirds into a romantic comedy, and not a horror film. The flashlights on a desperate search to follow the voices became like strobes to make the moment more urgent.

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