My uncle Merle always used to joke that I ain't really my dad's kid, 'cause I'm too quiet and too polite to be a Dixon. Dad would always tell him to shut his damn mouth, 'cause I'm a Dixon through and through. Sometimes I think my uncle Merle is right, but Dad says my goodness don't make me any less of a Dixon. He does say I got to get over my shyness, though. But I ain't really shy. Just quiet. Don't got much to say, I guess.

None of that really matters, though. Now, it doesn't matter if I don't got much to say. All that matters is that I keep breathing. That's what Dad says.

"Whatchu' poutin' for, Juni?" a voice says to my right. I know it's Uncle Merle, though, 'cause he's got that raspy quality to his voice that people get when they start smokin' cigarettes before they even graduate high school. I also know it's Uncle Merle because he's the only person in the whole world who calls me Juni.

"I ain't poutin'," I say, because I really ain't. Maybe I look like I am. I got my arms crossed, I guess, and I ain't exactly smiling, but I'm not poutin'. Or maybe I am, 'cause I got a real good reason to be poutin'.

"I ain't gonna be gone long," Merle says, as if him being gone is the reason I'm not really, but kinda poutin'. I don't care if he's leaving. He can go wherever he wants to go, usually, 'cause I don't even like him that much. I mean, I love him, 'cause he's my uncle, but he's also really stupid and annoying a lot of the time. I never tell him that to his face, though, because I know better. But what I'm actually not really, but kinda poutin' about is that he's leaving when he's supposed to be staying here with me while my dad's off tracking down a deer I found tracks from. Now I'm wishing I never showed Dad the deer tracks in the first place. 'Cause now I'm gonna be at this dang camp all by myself.

"You aren't s'posed to leave. Dad said," I say, giving Merle a glare. Dad don't trust none a' these people at this camp. He don't really trust Merle either, 'cause Merle's a real bad babysitter, but at least Merle is blood.

"Your dad don't even gotta know. I'mma be back 'fore ya know it," Merle drawls, picking his shotgun up off of the tree it was leaning against. We got a small camp a little ways away from everyone else. I usually hang around there, 'cause I really don't talk to any of the other kids in camp very much. But now that Merle's leaving, Lori's probably gonna be bothering me, saying I should come and play or do homework or something like that.

I don't really say anything else as my uncle Merle starts walking off toward the vehicles. I just keep my arms crossed and glare at his back. I don't even know why he's going with them. The small group was formed to go with Glenn on a run into the city- Atlanta. It's supposed to be quick and easy, and they already had enough people. But, for whatever reason, Uncle Merle decided he wants to go with them. He wants to rob them, still, I think. So I don't know why he's helping them. Guess he's just stupid like that.

My uncle Merle's always been kinda stupid. And a real bad babysitter. One time, when I was six, I was staying with Uncle Merle while my dad was at work. I forgot my backpack in Merle's truck, so me and Dad picked it up on the way to school the next morning. When I got to school, I put my backpack in my cubby, like I always did. Later on, my teacher went to get my folder from my bag, 'cause apparently, I was acting out, so she was gonna send a note home to Dad. I wasn't really acting out. I just wouldn't talk when she called on me, 'cause I didn't know the answer. Anyway, it didn't matter that I was acting out as soon as she started rifling through my backpack, 'cause before she was able to find my folder, she found a baggy full a' medicines that little kids ain't supposed to have in their backpacks.

I wasn't allowed to go back home, that day. Cops came to school and I was sitting in the front office all day long, missing out on story time. Eventually, my dad showed up, but I wasn't allowed to talk to him, and when he tried talking to me, the police started pushing him and shoving him away. I didn't get to go back home for three weeks. I had to live with a bunch of strangers for a whole three weeks!

When I got back, Merle wasn't allowed to babysit me for a long time. Plus, my dad stopped calling me Junebug, for some reason. He used to call me Junebug all the time, like how Merle calls me Juni all the time. But after I had to live with that other family for three weeks, Dad just called me June, like everybody else does. Except for when I'm in trouble, 'cause then he says my whole name. Juniper Jo Dixon. I think Dad stopped calling me Junebug 'cause he don't love me as much as he used to. I think he just liked it better when I was living with the other family. Or maybe I'm just too old to be called Junebug anymore. I don't know.

I watch Merle climb into the van with the rest of the group that's going on the run, which includes Glenn, Morales, Andrea, Jacqui, and T-Dog.

Glenn's nice. He seems nice, at least. I don't ever really talk to him that much, but he made me a s'more once, before we ran outta marshmallows.

Morales smiled at me a couple times. He has kids of his own. I think their names are Eliza and Louis.

Andrea's nice, but I like her sister better. Andrea's kinda intimidating. I think she might've been rich, before.

Jacqui's got a sweet smile, but I don't know much about her.

T-Dog's got a weird name. I like him, though. He's kinda funny.

Merle gets into the van last, and then Morales starts up the engine and drives off, and now I'm the only Dixon left at this camp. I hope Dad comes back before Merle does, so he can yell at Merle for leaving. I don't think he will, though, 'cause tracking a deer takes a while, even if you're Daryl Dixon and you're the best dang tracker in the state of Georgia.

"Juniper," Lori says to get my attention. She calls me Juniper all the time, for whatever reason. Dad introduced me as Juniper, but over time, one by one, I told 'em all I like to be called June. Lori didn't seem to get the memo. "Do you want to come play with Carl and Sophia?" Lori asks.

"No, ma'am," I tell her, 'cause I really don't want to go play with Carl and Sophia.

Lori seems a bit taken aback by this, for some reason. "Are you sure? They're playing Go Fish over at the picnic table," she says, trying to convince me.

Still, I don't want to, so I say, "No, thank you, ma'am."

"Ok. Well, if you change your mind, you're always welcome to join in," Lori says kindly. She's always kind like this, and sometimes it's overwhelming, 'cause my dad ain't nothin' like that and I ain't used to it. Anyway, I nod and turn away, because I have plans of going down to the quarry and searching for some cool-looking rocks.

I like being close to the quarry. There are all sorts of rocks in every different color you could ever imagine. And, even better, the water is the most crystal clear water I've ever seen in my whole life. It's blue and beautiful and it sparkles like those shirts that got sequins on 'em. I never had those shirts, 'cause they're itchy. I got one once for my third birthday, 'cause Dad thought I'd like the way the sequins can go up and down to switch the colors, but Dad brought it back to the store because, apparently, when I tried it on, I started screaming and crying until he took it off. So now he won't buy me them, even if I ask. I don't really want one, anyway. But the point is, the water is shiny and blue and I like lookin' at it a whole lot.

Another good thing about the water is that, when I'm down by the water, it's quieter than it is at camp. 'Cause at camp, everyone's talking and arguing and the kids are yelling and sometimes it really gets on my nerves. I don't wanna tell them to quiet down, though, 'cause I don't wanna hurt their feelings. So when it gets too loud, I just go down to the quarry and look for rocks.

Sometimes Dad comes with me when I go to the quarry. Not because he thinks it's too loud, but because he thinks Merle is too damn annoying. I like when my dad comes down to the quarry with me, and just me, because he's less grumpy when Merle ain't around. Sometimes I wonder why he even keeps Merle around in the first place, 'cause Merle's done more bad than he's done good, but then I remind myself that it's because Merle's blood. You can't leave your family behind, even if they're jerks.

It makes me mad, though, if I'm being honest. Because Merle does bad stuff all the time, and he just gets away with it. Sometimes Dad will yell at him, and only if it's real real bad, Dad and Merle will fight with each other until their faces are all bloodied up. But most of the time, Dad just scoffs or rolls his eyes at his brother.

But when I do something wrong, even something as little as rolling my eyes, I get a spankin'- or, sometimes, a rap over the knuckles- and Dad sends me to my room. And Merle even hits me on my face sometimes. It ain't fair, though, 'cause I'm just a kid, and I'm supposed to make mistakes. But Merle's a grown adult and he should know better, but he don't, and he never learns because he always gets away with it.

One time Merle even left me on the curb, all by myself, and all Dad did was yell at him for it. But the next day, I broke a glass and I got a spankin'. It's not fair. But I can't tell Dad any of that, 'cause he'll just get mad.

I should be grateful, though. I know Dad and Merle had it much worse. Grandpa was the really, really angry type of dad. He hurt my dad so bad that he's got scars on his back from it. I've never gotten a scar from my dad. I got one tiny one on my eyebrow from Merle, but he didn't mean it. He drank too much beer and took too much medicine that he wasn't really thinkin' right. But Grandpa left scars on Dad and Merle's backs just because he wanted to. So I should be grateful.

I am grateful. I'm grateful because on Fridays, when Dad got his paycheck, he'd let me get a Spider-man popsicle from the ice cream truck. I'm grateful because Dad saved up money so he could get me a radio and some CDs for me to have in my room for my birthday. I'm grateful because I had a bed to sleep in and a roof above my head. I'm grateful because I've got my dad and I'm still breathing.

Carl doesn't got his dad no more. I couldn't imagine not having my dad. Carl has his mom, though, and I don't have mine. I think if my dad died, I'd just be stuck with Uncle Merle. Or maybe, since Merle's been arrested so many times, they'd make me live with that other family permanently- well, before. Now the courts, attorneys, and judges ain't here to decide who I live with. So if Dad dies, I'll be with Merle, and if Merle dies, I'll just have to figure it out.

Anyway, Carl's dad was a police officer, and he got shot on duty. Merle hates police officers. That's why he don't get along with Officer Shane at all. Officer Shane was Carl's dad's best friend, and now he's pretending he's Carl's real dad. It's weird. I saw Shane sneak off into the woods, and then I saw Lori sneak off after him. I don't know what they do out there, but it's probably something Lori shouldn't be doin' with Officer Shane outta respect for her dead husband. But that ain't my business, so I always keep my mouth shut about it.

Personally, I don't mind Officer Shane. He's nice to me. He checks in on me every once in a while, when my dad's off hunting. I think it's because he knows Merle ain't the best babysitter. He must catch on to stuff like that, 'cause he's a police officer and all. But I don't got any reason to hate him.

I know I said I don't really feel like playing with the other kids very much, which is true, but that doesn't mean I don't like 'em. I think they're nice. None of them have called me Dixon like it's a swear word before. Some people in my old town used to say it like it was a swear. They don't, though, so I like the other kids. I just don't always feel like playing with 'em.

I don't know much about Eliza or Louis, because they stick with their mom more than anyone else. I think they might be shy. Carl's cool. He showed me his cars once, but I didn't touch 'em 'cause I wasn't sure if he wanted me to or not. Sophia's my favorite, though, 'cause she's just as quiet as I am at times.

That's why I don't get real annoyed when she starts walking along by my side as I search for rocks. I keep my eyes on the ground, but I can hear her walking next to me. I could hear her walking down the path. Dad's got me all trained up on being a good listener. Originally, it was because we went hunting a lot, but now it's because of the dead people.

"What are you doing?" Sophia asks me curiously.

"Lookin' for rocks," I tell her, just as I spot a blue-ish lookin' one on the ground. I crouch down to pick it up, and she crouches down next to me, inspecting the rock in my hand. I hold it out for her to see better.

"That's cool," Sophia said, giving me a teeny-tiny smile. I return the teeny-tiny smile as I shove the rock into my pocket and stand up again. "My mom said to tell you that we've got a box of crackers, in case you want any," Sophia says.

"Thanks," I say, even though I'm not even really hungry.

Sophia nods and turns to walk up the hill while I continue to search the ground for another cool rock. After a moment, I hear Sophia's footsteps pause. "Are you coming?" she asks me.

"I'm not hungry. Thank you, though," I say.

"Well..." Sophia tugs at the end of her shirt awkwardly, "Shane said you aren't supposed to be down here by yourself. That's why my mom said to come get you.

Oh. That makes a bit more sense than coming down here to tell me about some crackers. "My dad lets me," I tell her with a shrug. And I ain't lying. My dad doesn't care where I am, as long as I don't go too far. He considers it too far when I'm out of screaming distance. But everyone back at camp can hear me from here.

"That's what Carl said, but they didn't care," Sophia murmurs. I don't want to make her nervous by arguing about it, so I just nod and start walking back up to the main camp. Besides, I get why they don't want me away from them when my dad and Uncle Merle aren't here. If a walker came out of nowhere, trying to bite me, and my dad found out, he'd raise hell on everyone. He gets angry real easy, even if it ain't even your fault.

When we get up to the camp, Sophia goes off to the picnic table, where Carol, Lori, and Carl are all sitting. But I go to the RV and climb up to the top. Dale always keeps watch up there. He's one of my favorites at camp. He's real smart and wise. Sometimes he reminds me of the owl from Winnie the Pooh. He doesn't talk as fast as the owl from Winnie the Pooh, though. He just knows a lot and has a lot of books. My favorite thing about him, though, is that if you ask him a question, he's sure to answer it. Even if he doesn't know the answer, he'll come up with something to tell you. When I ask Dad questions, he says I don't know a lot. But not Dale.

So, when I sit down at the edge of the RV, I think up a question to ask. Since I'm thinking about Winnie the Pooh, I ask, "Do bears really like honey?"

Dale smiles upon hearing my question. He continued to pace around and keep watch with his rifle over his shoulder as he answered. "Bears do love honey. They love beehives, especially, because of all the bees inside. It's a good source of protein," Dale explains.

"Oh," I say, nodding my head. I try to think up a new question. I think more about the owl in Winnie the Pooh. "How can owls turn their heads all the way around?" I ask.

"They turn their heads just a bit less than all the way around. I'm sure it has something to do with their bone structure. How far the spinal cord goes up into its neck, perhaps," Dale explains.

"What's a spinal cord?" is my next question. Dale answers that one, too, and the next one, and the next. Because Dale doesn't run out of answers.

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I would just like to remind you all that character flaws and bad relationships leave room for development 🙏🙏