ROSALIA SERRANO REMINDED PEOPLE a lot of paintings. Her beauty was indescribable. It wasn’t conventional or the magazine type. Her skin was sunkissed, tanned and freckled from the sun. Her hair was wild and came out in dark, almost raven, vicious waves. She wasn’t particularly ugly but her beauty had a lot to do with her vivacious spirit. Rosalia was never quiet or gentle. She was loud and wanted to be heard. She laughed too loud, smiled at strangers too much and was almost always had her hands covered in paint. She was shorter than a lot of girls in her class and she couldn’t dance well or picked up math as well as the others but when she sang, people stopped to listen.

Rosalia wasn’t perfect but that never stopped people from loving her.

She had a fair amount of boys falling at her feet but she never loved them. She liked most but it never got to the point she wanted them forever. Most of her paintings were inspired by people and the boys she met. She was a visual person, often painted how she felt about certain boys and certain people but she never painted how love made her feel. When she met Remi Velazquez at age 20 during a retro-themed party, she was almost certain she knew what love looked like when she saw him from across the room and suddenly, love was all she could ever paint.

Thirteen years later, she fell in love for the second time when she gave birth to Juniper.

When she had Juniper wrapped in a blanket in her arms, she made a promise to always keep an eye out on her. She loved her daughter and saw herself in her. She flourished as her mother. Often singing her to sleep, played with her in the garden and painted a magical portrait of a garden in her nursery. Juniper has her eyes, her thick, wavy hair and the smile that would light up her entire face.

And when she was expecting a second baby when Juniper was only 10, she was sure she’d make the same promise to her son. But somewhere along the way, Rosalia never found out if she was going to make that promise because she had lost him before she even got to see him.

From then on, Juniper saw her mother wither away like the flowers in the garden from the seasons changing. She’d smile less, laugh less and paint less. Rosalia was beginning to deteriorate. The paintings she did paint were gradually becoming less vibrant. She often caught her mother sitting by the window, staring off at it for hours on end. She didn’t eat a lot and she’d go for weeks without talking to her family.

But Rosalia always kept her promise, even after she died from guzzling bleach with Juniper seeing her pale body in the laundry room. She never stopped watching over her daughter from where she is, far away from the world she used to be in.

“I’ve had enough!” Juniper almost flinches at how loud her dad is yelling at her in the dead of the night. He’s never yelled at her that loud before nor has he ever looked any more frustrated, angry and for the first time, helpless, than in this moment. She sits on the grey sectional, running her finger across the gauze that is wrapped around her hand, avoiding his bullet eyes.

She took the keys to the Porsche after Ethan left and sped off into the road, driving right into a streetlight, completely trashing the front. Luckily, the airbags went off and her injuries only caused her hand to be torn open by the shards of glass that cracked and shattered disastrously from the impact.

“What is it gonna be this time, dad? Taking my phone away? Cutting up my credit card? No more shopping sprees?” She asks, feigning distraught in her tone. Juniper feels that she doesn’t care anymore and she truly doesn’t. She just feels like an empty, vacant shell of a person. Her dad only stares back at her helplessly and hopelessly. He’s still in his sweatpants and white t-shirt after sending Juniper to the ER to stitch up her hand. He looks incredibly exhausted; from not sleeping enough and dealing with his daughter non-stop.

He rubs his hand on his five o’clock shadow and says, “You leave me with no choice here. I’ve been thinking about it and I didn’t think I’d have to resort to this but I’m desperate here, mija. I don’t know what else to do with you anymore. I think I’ll have to send you off to boarding school so you can get your act together.”

“Boarding school?” Juniper guffaws hysterically, “Where? East Coast? New York isn’t really my scene. Or are we talking about Connecticut? They have an obscene amount of private schools. Plenty to choose from. Plenty to hop one from another.”

“I don’t think you understand how desperate I am for you to change. Be it the East Coast or Connecticut, you’ll always find your way to destroy everything in your path, ” He says in a stern tone and Juniper knows he’s not going to bite her quips. Her dad takes a seat next to her and clasps his hands together and calmly says, “There’s a great boarding school in Edinburgh that I’ve had my eyes on for a while now and I think it’d be a good idea to send you off there and finish high school. I think it’s best that I take you out of LA and far from it as possible so you can think about your own life.”

Juniper’s jaw drops and she scoffs incredulously, “Edinburgh?”

“Something’s gotta give, Juniper.”

“So, you’re just gonna ship me across the fucking ocean and hope for the best that your daughter comes back reformed?” She stands up from the couch, looking at her dad in disbelief. She feels confused and angry at the same time. “You can’t do that-”

“Yes, I can,” He corrects her. His voice is loud again, “I’ve given you so many opportunities to change but you never do, June. If it takes me to send you off to boarding school across the damn ocean to put some sense into you, then so be it.”

Juniper clenches her fists and feels tears stinging her eyes as she looks back at him in disappointment. She feels her chest sinks, constricts and releases with so much tension and her the pit of the stomach caving in with anxiety. The information hits her all at once and she begs, “You can’t do that, dad. You can't just send me away like that, to some place I've never been in!”

“Great.” He states and stands up, his height towering over her. He’s acting like he isn’t sorry but the look in his eyes say otherwise, “Then, it gives you the perfect chance to rebuild yourself. Now, I’m going to bed. I’ve had enough for the night. Whatever the hell you do beyond this point, do it at your own discretion. I’ve had it with you. I’m drawing the line. If you don’t get your shit together this summer, I’m not going to be as forgiving anymore.”

He pushes past her and leaves the living room as Juniper sits back down on the sectional with her head in her hands, praying and desperate for a way out.

_______________

After spray-painting a pair of lopsided testicles and a hairy penis on the front doors of Camden Prep, Juniper has to do two weeks worth of community service. Even though she’s been told that she has curfew for the two weeks, she doesn’t even go by it and her dad knows that as long as she visits the library for the next two weeks, it’s all he needs from her at this point.

Today is her fifth day at the local library and she’s staring up the grey building with the front glass doors haphazardly covered by various posters that are tattered and weathered. It’s very ugly and it hurts to even look at. The building sticks out in between two buildings in the saddest of ways. It’s grey, dull and bleak in comparison of the two other buildings it’s wedged between, which are blue and a soft yellow.

She frowns and sighs at the thought of having to spend a lot of her time at the library for another week. There’s a tiny bit of regret and perhaps even guilt that she ever picked up two cans of spray paints at Costco but the feeling dissipates when she remembers the reason why she did it in the first place.

It was because Ridley Sanders decided it was a great idea to post a video of the night he and Juniper hooked up. It was pure violation and abuse of his jock status. Juniper had to do something. Something that could never match up to her humiliation but spray painting a pair of lopsided testicles and a hairy penis across the front doors of the school (that the Sanders are proud donors of) with ‘RIDLEY SANDERS’ BALLS ARE SMALLER THAN HIS IQ’ made her feel somewhat better.

But forcing her to help out at the local library for two weeks in the name of vandalism and so-called defamation?

That’s just asking for too much of Juniper.

Her dad steps out of the red McLaren, phone in his hand as he nods his head repetitively as if the person on the other line can see him. Juniper restrains herself from making a comment and watch him lock the car and bidding goodbye to the caller. He’s already in his regular work attire; a white button-up and a pair of slacks.

“You remember what we talked about on our way here?” He asks, fully occupying himself with rolling the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows.

“Try my best, don’t drag the Velazquez name through mud and only suck dick in the back of the library when nobody is looking. Blah, blah, blah. Got it.”

“Juniper,” A horrified look immediately shadows over his face. He scowls and places his hands on his waist, looking down at her, “I’m serious. After what happened last night, I really need you to get your act together. I took your phone away so, you can't take off anywhere else.”

“Whatever,” She shrugs and makes her way up the steps as her dad follows her closely.

Cautiously putting her gauzed-up hand on the metal handle of the door, she pushes to open it only for it to croak and moan in protest. She frowns and proceeds to push a little harder but the door only opens an inch as if something is blocking it from the inside. Her hands shake the door in an attempt to pry it open but to no avail. It usually takes a while for Myrtle, the stout middle-aged lady who works there, to come get the door every time Juniper comes.

“You know, you don’t have to walk me to the door,” Juniper turns to face her dad who is coming up the steps soon after her.

“I’m afraid I’ve lost trust in you, Juniper,” he sighs exasperatedly, looking down at his Rolex to check the time.

“What the hell could I possibly do in the mere ten seconds of walking from the car to the door?” She represses the need to roll her eyes.

Her dad gives her a dubious look, “At this point, anything. Who knows what you’re capable of.”

“This place is a dump,” She comments, checking her long acryclic nails. She lets out a sigh, “Nobody goes to the library anymore. All I do in there is put books back and collect dust like everything in there. Fun fact: the greyness in Myrtle’s hair is just dust, contrary to popular belief. And the sad part is I count the gum underneath the reading tables for fun.”

“Well,” he says as he rolls the sleeves of his button-up to his elbows, “You should’ve thought about that when you decided to spray paint obscenity at the front of your school.”

Juniper holds back from raising her voice and potentially ruin her chances of staying in LA at the end of summer. Instead she just smiles and calmly tells him, “Should’ve hired a better lawyer then. One that wasn’t so easily distracted by a pair of boobs.”

Her dad only shakes his head and knocks on the doors, shaking it once. It takes a minute before the door opens forcefully, revealing Myrtle standing behind it, looking flustered as always with her eyes being magnified from her thick spectacles. Her hair spills out in brown-grey curls, almost matching her baggy sweater, which is a strange choice since it’s summer in California.

“Sorry, the doors are still shitty as always,” She says and awkwardly nudges the door to stay open, making the glass surface to shake, “Budget cuts are a nuisance. Hopefully, we’ll get some new doors this summer!” She steps aside and beckons for them to come inside.

Juniper follows her dad into the library, her eyes shrewdly scanning the area. It smells musty and mildewy. The floorboards are wooden and it creaks under pressure. There are tall bookcases by the walls and set out in different sections, seperated by various genres of literature. The ceilings are high and there are old faux candle chandeliers hanging, partially covered in cobwebs and dust.

“Alright, as always, Myrtle,” Her dad starts his usual morning routine of reminding everyone what’s supposed to happen, especially Juniper, “Sign her slip when she’s done. I’ll come pick her up at 3 as per usual,” he then turns to face his daughter, who’s still scowling at the fact that she still has to do this for a little over week, “And, mija, please. Don’t screw up. You’re digging your own grave at this point.”

“Yeah, maybe I’ll even lower myself into the ground,” she says sarcastically, “So, you know, I can let myself down one last time.”

Her dad ignores her quip and faces Myrtle again, “Call me if anything happens.”

Myrtle laughs softly, “I think you’re underestimating your daughter, Remi. She’s doing great around here.”

His eyes takes a half-glance at Juniper, who’s shooting him a sickly sweet grin which he isn’t entirely convinced by. He only nods his head and turns to the door. When he reaches the door, his hand hovers the handle hesitantly. He looks over his shoulder and glares at Juniper, “Behave. Please.”

“Where’s the cocaine, Myrtle? I need snort a line before I start,” Juniper says loudly so her dad can hear her. She’s joking and he knows it too but the look on his face isn’t happy. He shakes his head as she waves her fingers at him before he steps through the doors, out of sight.

Juniper isn’t worried. No, she’s just bored and deeply devastated that this is a place she has to be stuck in for the next two weeks. But her dad? He’s extremely worried, listening out one million and one things Juniper can do to the library as an act of retaliation. He knows that he’s given her an ultimatum but a part of him thinks it still isn’t enough for him to give himself a peace of mind.

The sight of her dad leaving has never been a sight she feared for the past few years but at the age of 17, this is the first time she never felt so scared watching her dad leave her. She feels 5 again, being dropped off on her first day of school at kindergarten. She secretly hopes that her dad is hiding away behind a tree or sitting at the cafe across the street like he did with her mom when she went to school for the first time.

But she knows she’s on her own. It has always been like that.

This wouldn’t be any different.

“Gosh, you really need to give to your dad a break,” Myrtle shakes her head, walking over to the counter where she usually sits to retrieve a box of returned books.

Juniper shrugs simply and dump her Chanel backpack behind the desk, a purchase she made on a whim when her dad decided to take her car keys off of her. In retaliation, she took his Mastercard Black card, booked herself a trip to Monaco and went on an almost-endless shopping spree.

“Oh, please, he’d be bored without my never-ending misadventures.”

Myrtle raises a brow at her, looking nowhere near convinced, “Didn’t you steal his credit card off of him? Isn’t that illegal?”

“Doesn’t count if you’re the only one inheriting all the wealth,” Juniper says and stops herself, giving it another thought as she leans her elbow against the counter, resting her chin on the palm of her hand, “Well, maybe now that Heidi is added into the mix, I’m only getting a couple 100 million rather than all of it.”

Myrtle’s jaw drops when she doesn’t see Juniper geting fazed by what she admitted. She waves her hand dismissively and asks, “How was the wedding?”

“Meh, it was fine,” Juniper murmurs, running her finger over her gauze, “I invited people to gatecrash and then I totalled her brand new Porsche. Now, my dad is threatening to send me to some boarding school in Scotland in hopes for some miraculous ‘reform’.”

The middle-aged lady in front of her gives a sideways look as if she’s calculating every single thing Juniper has done for her dad to finally reach this point. She even feels internally grateful that she isn’t married and doesn’t have any kids to deal with. Although, it can get lonely sometimes. At least she has her pet hamster, Williamson, named after her first crush in 10th grade.

Myrtle fishes around the box and starts to pile them in genres as she says, “Do you want to go to Scotland?”

“God, no,” is all Juniper says.

She’s terrified but she’s not going to tell anyone that. Juniper isn’t even entirely sure if Scotland is just a mere threat her dad is putting out so she could go easy on everything. But if her dad is serious about shipping her away to some posh boarding school, Juniper doesn’t know what to think of it. She’ll be far away from Los Angeles and everything she has known. This city, regardless of how skin-deep it can be and how ruthless everything is, is all she has left of her mother.

“Well, maybe that’s something you should think about,” Myrtle states with a flat smile. She senses Juniper isn’t going to give her usual snark remark and nudges her arm with her stubby finger, “Go get started on those blind date books.”

Juniper nods her head as Myrtle takes off to retrieve the book cart to put all the returned books to its original place. Juniper sits herself behind the counter and takes out a bunch of books under the desk, where Myrtle had left a selection of books for her to wrap. Myrtle has also left sticky notes on each book, writing only three words to describe each narrative.

It’s Juniper’s usual routine when she gets to the library. She’d sit for a while and wrap books in parchment paper with a piece of string before writing three designated words on the surface which would help readers to pick which one to take home, without judging it by its cover. After that, she would aimlessly run each surface of the bookcases with a feather duster and checking in books into the system after they are returned.

It’s terribly mundane inside the library while on the outside, the sun is beaming lustrously.

Juniper is wrapping up a book called ‘Only Sunflowers’ and quickly reads the sticky note that lists out: coming of age, loss, healing. She pays no mind to everything else and wraps it up before it is even embedded in her mind. She wraps up the rest and carries the box to the front where they usually put up the wrapped up books for people to choose from.

The day drones on ever so slowly and people come in and out of the library. They usually come in just to look around with no intention of ever picking up a book. It has that rustic and dusty environment that people go in to take an Instagram photo for that I-read-books feel. It’s a pathetic scene if you’re ever sitting behind the counter, chin on the palm of your hand, as someone picks up Lolita off the shelf to pose with.

The library gets as exciting as books falling out of the top shelf when someone tries to reach for it. Juniper jumps at the chance to clean it up because by one o’clock, she has every grain on the wooden surface of the table memorised.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” a regular, Flora, stammers when she sees Juniper approach her. Juniper only knows her name from the countless books she has borrowed and never bought. Her name is pretty much at the top of the library’s database. She’s a scrawny little pre-teen with glasses too big for her face, pigtails that hold back her wild curls and clothes that hang onto her. The big shirt she’s wearing swallows her torso and the shorts clings onto her waist -- she looks like she’s drowning and being weighed down to the ground. With Juniper looking down at her, she cowers against the shelves.

“It’s cool,” Juniper tells her and eyes the puddle of books that gather by their feet.

“I wanted to get White Orleander,” Flora says meekly, scared to make eye contact.

Juniper bends over and picks the book off the floor, holding it out towards Flora, “And you got it, kid.”

“Th- thank you,” Flora smiles weakly and takes the book from her hand. As Juniper starts to gather the books, Flora tilts her head aside. Her glasses slides down the tall bridge of her nose and she pushes it back up with her finger, “Um, J- Juniper, right?”

“The one and only,” Juniper sighs, as if it’s unfortunate to be her and live her life that’s filled with never-ending luxuries.

“Yeah, my c- cousin follows you on In- Instagram,” Flora says, unsure if she should smile or not when Juniper’s stormy eyes flicker from the books to her, eyeing her down. She quickly adds, “She lo- loves your photos. Esp- especially th- the ones with- with the pretty cl- clothes,” her small smile falls and her eyebrows creases together, “B- but what are you- you doing here?”

“Well,” Juniper starts with her hands on her knees, leveling her height to Flora’s and says, “When a boy spreads a very inappropriate video of you and you decide to take power back by artistically spray painting his hairy ballsack across the front of the school, be aware that sometimes, you’re not gonna win that fight. People don’t like it when girls fight back.”

“Oh, o- okay,” Flora nods her head slowly and brings the book up between them, “Can I h- have this checked o- out please?”

Juniper smiles widely, “Of course.”

She guides Flora to the counter and scans the barcode of the book before handing it back to her. When Flora leaves, Juniper heads back to the front where the scatter of books still lay ever so haphazardly. She brings the step stool with her and begins to pile them up in alphabetical order before stepping to the top of the bookcase to return the books back in place.

“Is there any way I can get a synopsis from these?” A voice says beside her as she shoves the books into the shelf. Juniper holds herself back from rolling her eyes. She takes in a deep breath and smiles, looking down beside her to the voice.

Juniper instantly meets a pair eyes that have the same deep copper speckling in dark dirt of the earth. He cranes his neck up as she stands on the stool, staring back at him. The moment she stands by the pool comes back to her in a flash, replaying the second their eyes met from over the waters.

“Hello? Synopsis?” The boy repeats, holding two books wrapped in parchment paper in the air.

“Uh,” Juniper shakes her head, “Sorry, that’s all you’re getting.”

“Bummer,” he blows a raspberry, looking at the book in his right hand. His thick eyebrows crease together as he returns his gaze up at Juniper, “How can I ever choose between ‘fantasy, orphan, escape’ and ‘beauty, youth, paintings’?”

She purses her lips and shrugs, “Guess you gotta go with your gut. That’s how these,” she points to the books in his hands, “Work.”

“Ah,” he clicks his fingers, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Precisely,” she nods her head and asks, “You were at Ash’s party last night?”

The boy smiles up at her. His smiles so magnificently against the golden light that pours from the skylight in the ceiling. The light shines over him just enough to hit the necklace that hangs around his neck. Juniper glimpses at it, seeing a pair of wings embedded in a circular pendant before looking back at him in the eyes.

“Guilty as charged,” he shrugs and watches her step down from the stool. He scratches the back of his head as she bends over to pick up another pile of books, “Juniper. Right?”

“Depends on who’s asking,” she smirks as she turns to face him.

Juniper usually knows how it goes when it comes to boys. The boys in her life are no stranger to her entire timeline of escapades. She intrigues them. They like that she’s a challenge and how she’s unpredictable. They like how impulsive she is. How fast she is. How crazy she can get. She’s the tempting bite of forbidden fruit. Juniper knows it. She knows how they usually look at her and what they want. First, they’ll charm her; challenge her on a night out and then, hopefully, it’ll end with the both of them ripping clothes off of each other.

“Castiel,” he introduces himself and coolly leans his shoulder against the bookcase.

Castiel reminds her of classic film actors like Paul Newman or Marlon Brando from his ‘A Streetcar Named Desire’ era. He has a magnificent smile, one that Juniper can’t stop looking at. It reminds her of the sun and the beach. How the sand feels against her skin and how warm the water is. His hair is dark, almost black, tousled and pushed back. His skin is very tan, sunkissed from the touch of the Californian sun. But his eyes. Juniper has never seen something so benevolent before.

“So, what are you doing here?” He asks. Nobody who goes to a party at a place like the Malhotra mansion without being somebody. A rich girl with 18,000 followers on Instagram and armed with a notorious background at that, shouldn’t be lingering in a place like this.

“Community service,” Juniper replies with a deflated sigh and steps up on the stool again, putting the books back.

“Community service?” She hears him reiterate, questioningly. She looks down at him, seeing the genuine confusion in his face, “What’d you do to get that?”

Juniper looks at him with a sharply raised brow, shooting him the same confused look. A lot of people know about the whole Ridley Sanders scandal, especially if they have the same circle of friends since Castiel went to Ash’s party. Everyone else at the party saw the video and they saw what Juniper spray painted. But he doesn’t seem to know a thing about her. Not even all the atrocity she committed for the past few years.

“I spray painted Ridley’s balls across the front of the school,” Juniper tells him with a shrug, hopping off the stepping stool. She raises a brow at him, “Are you new around here something?”

“Yeah,” He replies after blinking a couple of times. Castiel seems shocked at the reason why she’s there. He clears his throat and slowly tells her, “I moved to LA from San Francisco a few days ago with my parents,” he pauses and seems reluctant to say the next thing that’s right on the edge of his tongue. But it doesn’t take long as he quickly slips in, “I’m actually trying to explore LA. Make some friends along the way. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone with you?”

Juniper lets out a laugh. She likes that he’s forward with the light of hope in his eyes but this is Los Angeles. You’ll learn it gets hard after a while.

Boys like him seem to check every criterion of the victims on her fling list; he’s attractive and his innocent demeanour is begging to be torn apart. It’s the quiet, shy and goody-goody-two-shoes ones that are more fun. Juniper had come across types of people to know that beneath what seems to be the-boy-next-door demeanour coming off of Castiel lays a soul waiting for one hell of a riot. But she’s not going to take the chance and figures she should leave boys alone for now. The girls too.

And she can tell there is so much in him that she can’t corrupt. He’s bright-eyed, excited and happy. If the rumours are true, she wouldn’t care but she does. And it’s with that look in his deep copper eyes that she can’t let him fall along with her.

Her smile wavers a little as she says, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Castiel.”

He scoffs, “Why?”

“That’s why,” Juniper easily says and gestures to the two girls across the room, having their phones out at her direction and whispering to each other, stealing glances over and over again. When Castiel returns his gaze back to Juniper, she adds, “People love to talk about me and I don’t mean it in a good way. You’re new around here, I get it but I don’t want to be the one to break you before this city gets to do it. Better be safe than sorry. So,” she sighs, eyes darting to the books, “I take it you’re not going to buy those?”