The keys on her phone clicked furiously under her fingers. She let the predictive text do most of the work. They’d get the point of the message, she was sure. Hitting send, she snapped the phone shut and slid down the bathroom wall, ruined.

It just sat on the edge of the basin, taunting her with that perfect blue line.

This didn’t make sense. She’d never let him, you know, inside of her. Sure, maybe things went on for a bit before they put a condom on, but never far enough for stuff to happen…right?

God. What the hell was she going to do? She wasn’t some poor girl out in Frayser. Her parents had money, she was going to go to college, she was going to have a future. But now that stupid blue line had been drawn across her life.

It was a line of demarcation, dividing what was before, and what comes after.

On the floor, her phone started to buzz like a beehive, filling up with messages, and her waiting for the sting. She couldn’t bare to open it. If she did, then all of this would be real, and she would really be pregnant.

Memphis Note
In early 2011, the national press caught wind of the rising pregnancy rate at Frayser High School. They called it an epidemic and a failure of the Memphis School System and Memphis as a whole. I couldn’t help but wonder what a privileged girl finding out that she’s pregnant would think about those 90 girls who were pregnant at the same time. Would she think that she’s better than them? Would she empathize with them? Or would she just be a normal, selfish teenager and not think about anything but herself?

It was late on a Thursday, after 11. His parents had gone to bed, and he was supposed to be asleep.

Under the blankets, earbuds in, a tiny FM radio in his hand, he waited. Listening for that telltale sign that she was about to start. That warm, alluring inhale she began each show with.

All he knew about her was her name. June B. Like any properly mysterious DJ, June never gave her full name. She called her weekly WEVL show June Bug Radio. And he lived every week waiting for her broadcast.

He loved it because of what she played. French African jazz. Eastern European turbo pop. Beijing punk rock. Brazilian hip hop. Japanese rockabilly. And so much more. Music like what everyone else was playing, but from places no one he knew had ever been.

He also loved it because of her. He had no idea what she looked like. But in his mind she had chestnut hair, or sometimes fiery red. He could never make up his mind on the details. All he had to go on was her music. Which meant she must be absolutely killer.

She inhaled. June Bug Radio was on the air.

Memphis Note
WEVL is the local volunteer radio station. People can join the organization and get their own block of time on the FM dial. I’ve got a cousin who’s been doing a show for years, and I’ve discovered some of my favorite musical acts through their eclectic mix of programming.

He loved his Mom and Dad. He really, really did.

Danny was different than all the other parent’s kids, though. He didn’t fit in with their routine of school, game, church. School was ok, he guessed, but he couldn’t cheer on Friday for the jocks that had pushed him into the locker all week, nor could he nod along to the preacher on Sunday that said even worse things should happen to him.

Danny’s refuge from that was sitting in his room, singing along softly to his collection of musicals. Jesus Christ Superstar, Rent, Pippin; he’d close his eyes and see himself on stage, under lights, belting it out.

Once he’d actually tried to tell his parents everything. They didn’t understand. They thought he’d met a new girl at school named Dorothy. They’d even asked him if he’d like to borrow the car to take her out some time. At that moment, he had wanted very much to drive the car off a cliff, with himself inside it.

And as he left the note on the kitchen table, he hoped that they might get the message this time, but he knew they probably wouldn’t.

“Gone to meet MAGY, back later.”

Memphis Note
MAGY stands for Memphis Area Gay Youth. It’s a wonderful support group here in town that’s help God knows how many kids make it through the tribulations of adolescence into adulthood. Oh, and the Dorothy thing? Look up Friend of Dorothy. It’s a euphemism going back to the 50s.

It was quickly becoming apparent that The Spot would be necessary before the night was over. She’d intimated that she was ready to go all the way, he’d remembered to stash some condoms away in his car, and it looked like signs were green across the board for tonight being the night.

Problem was, The Spot was more of a communal space than a private one. It was a clearing in the deciduous forest of Shelby Farms his friends had discovered last summer while looking for a place to watch a meteor shower. Far enough back from the main roads, no one ever checked it. Which made it perfect for nights like tonight. And unfortunately meant it could already be occupied. He would need to find out.

The text message went out as he took her to get coffee. “Need The Spot. All clear? Y/N?” He needed four Ys. Needed them more than anything else in his life.

Two came back before they’d even walked in the Starbucks. Both Ys. Another while they waited on their order.

They sipped their drinks and ground their thighs while they waited.

Finally, his phone buzzed in his pocket.

The Spot was his.

Memphis Note:
Shelby Farms Park is one of the largest urban green spaces in the world. It cuts a swath through the east edge of Memphis with lakes, forests, open pastures and even a herd of buffalo. And yes, it even has a few “Spots”.