She scaled up her efforts to find out what it was in the air. Her rounds of the coffee houses got slightly frantic. She crossed the border sometimes now, to The Sippin’ Lizard in Flint or The Red Door in Detroit. In February she went to see The Beatles land in New York. After that she ventured there the odd time. Bob Dylan at The Gaslight did similar kind of stuff to the air as Joni did back home. The vibe was everywhere, but all in all for some reason still nowhere as strong as at The Depression. And nowhere else did Juno get that feeling that she sort of, almost, kind of belonged.
Jock grew a little moustache and developed a taste for cigarettes and whiskey. Since alcohol didn’t have any effect on Juno he got quite a reputation. In March John sold up. Clearly he’d got itchy feet and longed to move on to greater things than Alberta. Just like Juno. But who wound up running her favourite basement? None other than David Wiffen. Juno spent night after night waiting for the chance to make Jock leave the building and Juno enter, so she could get that rare pleasure of talking to a guy who was temporarily an equal.
Months passed that way and another summer began. Juno hardly ever saw daylight. She didn’t even go to ‘The West’s Greatest Hootenanny’ in July, which was part of the Calgary Stampede and organized by ex-Depression John. She was real tired now. Tired of putting spells on her parents, tired of not having a companion, tired of her life. There seemed no point in having Magic powers. Not if all you ended up doing was sit in a basement desperately waiting for one guy to get drunk and one girl to sing. Even if the latter did have a proper guitar now.
Then, over a year after she’d last met him, Juno saw Kent Keogh at the Inquisition.