{"id":13725,"date":"2020-04-30T09:00:00","date_gmt":"2020-04-30T14:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/winter-with-periwinkle-by-redfern-boyd\/"},"modified":"2026-05-04T11:57:59","modified_gmt":"2026-05-04T16:57:59","slug":"winter-with-periwinkle-by-redfern-boyd","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2020\/04\/30\/winter-with-periwinkle-by-redfern-boyd\/","title":{"rendered":"Winter with Periwinkle"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<ul class=\"wp-block-social-links is-content-justification-right is-layout-flex wp-container-core-social-links-is-layout-765c4724 wp-block-social-links-is-layout-flex\"><li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-facebook  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/profile.php?id=61556140010887\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12 2C6.5 2 2 6.5 2 12c0 5 3.7 9.1 8.4 9.9v-7H7.9V12h2.5V9.8c0-2.5 1.5-3.9 3.8-3.9 1.1 0 2.2.2 2.2.2v2.5h-1.3c-1.2 0-1.6.8-1.6 1.6V12h2.8l-.4 2.9h-2.3v7C18.3 21.1 22 17 22 12c0-5.5-4.5-10-10-10z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Facebook<\/span><\/a><\/li>\n\n<li class=\"wp-social-link wp-social-link-instagram  wp-block-social-link\"><a href=\"https:\/\/www.instagram.com\/boudin_mcneese\/\" class=\"wp-block-social-link-anchor\"><svg width=\"24\" height=\"24\" viewBox=\"0 0 24 24\" version=\"1.1\" xmlns=\"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/2000\/svg\" aria-hidden=\"true\" focusable=\"false\"><path d=\"M12,4.622c2.403,0,2.688,0.009,3.637,0.052c0.877,0.04,1.354,0.187,1.671,0.31c0.42,0.163,0.72,0.358,1.035,0.673 c0.315,0.315,0.51,0.615,0.673,1.035c0.123,0.317,0.27,0.794,0.31,1.671c0.043,0.949,0.052,1.234,0.052,3.637 s-0.009,2.688-0.052,3.637c-0.04,0.877-0.187,1.354-0.31,1.671c-0.163,0.42-0.358,0.72-0.673,1.035 c-0.315,0.315-0.615,0.51-1.035,0.673c-0.317,0.123-0.794,0.27-1.671,0.31c-0.949,0.043-1.233,0.052-3.637,0.052 s-2.688-0.009-3.637-0.052c-0.877-0.04-1.354-0.187-1.671-0.31c-0.42-0.163-0.72-0.358-1.035-0.673 c-0.315-0.315-0.51-0.615-0.673-1.035c-0.123-0.317-0.27-0.794-0.31-1.671C4.631,14.688,4.622,14.403,4.622,12 s0.009-2.688,0.052-3.637c0.04-0.877,0.187-1.354,0.31-1.671c0.163-0.42,0.358-0.72,0.673-1.035 c0.315-0.315,0.615-0.51,1.035-0.673c0.317-0.123,0.794-0.27,1.671-0.31C9.312,4.631,9.597,4.622,12,4.622 M12,3 C9.556,3,9.249,3.01,8.289,3.054C7.331,3.098,6.677,3.25,6.105,3.472C5.513,3.702,5.011,4.01,4.511,4.511 c-0.5,0.5-0.808,1.002-1.038,1.594C3.25,6.677,3.098,7.331,3.054,8.289C3.01,9.249,3,9.556,3,12c0,2.444,0.01,2.751,0.054,3.711 c0.044,0.958,0.196,1.612,0.418,2.185c0.23,0.592,0.538,1.094,1.038,1.594c0.5,0.5,1.002,0.808,1.594,1.038 c0.572,0.222,1.227,0.375,2.185,0.418C9.249,20.99,9.556,21,12,21s2.751-0.01,3.711-0.054c0.958-0.044,1.612-0.196,2.185-0.418 c0.592-0.23,1.094-0.538,1.594-1.038c0.5-0.5,0.808-1.002,1.038-1.594c0.222-0.572,0.375-1.227,0.418-2.185 C20.99,14.751,21,14.444,21,12s-0.01-2.751-0.054-3.711c-0.044-0.958-0.196-1.612-0.418-2.185c-0.23-0.592-0.538-1.094-1.038-1.594 c-0.5-0.5-1.002-0.808-1.594-1.038c-0.572-0.222-1.227-0.375-2.185-0.418C14.751,3.01,14.444,3,12,3L12,3z M12,7.378 c-2.552,0-4.622,2.069-4.622,4.622S9.448,16.622,12,16.622s4.622-2.069,4.622-4.622S14.552,7.378,12,7.378z M12,15 c-1.657,0-3-1.343-3-3s1.343-3,3-3s3,1.343,3,3S13.657,15,12,15z M16.804,6.116c-0.596,0-1.08,0.484-1.08,1.08 s0.484,1.08,1.08,1.08c0.596,0,1.08-0.484,1.08-1.08S17.401,6.116,16.804,6.116z\"><\/path><\/svg><span class=\"wp-block-social-link-label screen-reader-text\">Instagram<\/span><\/a><\/li><\/ul>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-large-font-size\"><strong>Winter with Periwinkle<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\"><strong>Redfern Boyd<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">__________<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Summer gets all the glory. People talk about their lives changing during the hot months. Our season was winter, especially the limbo between Christmas and New Year\u2019s. That time belonged to us, me and Periwinkle, and to our families, who lived the other eleven and a half months six hundred miles apart. Mine in Michigan, hers in Vermont. And we always made the most of it. Snow forts, cocoa, locking eyes across the dinner table and dissolving into giggles, everything the season should be. Even with the time between us, we were thick as thieves.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Periwinkle Hannon and I were no less than destined for each other. Our mothers had roomed together at UVM, so they were a different sort of friends from the dinner-party whisperers whose kids I dodged, kids with names like Rose or Freddie or Sara Jane. Periwinkle was a weird name, but a good weird, not like Tuesday Annabel Swick. Her name was the crunchy December sky at dawn and dusk. Mine was the dullest day of the week, when you\u2019ve survived Monday but you haven\u2019t crested the hill.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">We were partners in crime, maybe sixty-forty. Or seventy-thirty. Our escapades were my inventions, guaranteed to get us into trouble, but only if we were <em>caught<\/em> on the roof with a length of rope tied to the nearest tree limb or if the newts slithered out of our windbreaker pockets. But Periwinkle went along, a good follower and a good loser. Lucky, because I liked leading and winning. I walked one step ahead of her, ran a couple paces faster. My classmates hated me for it in a way she never would.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Still, I couldn\u2019t stand to see her hurt. Whenever her family came to our house, the older rascals who infested our neighborhood hassled her to no end about her name. I\u2019d chase them off with a hockey stick or a bit of blackmail \u2013 most recently, my theory on why they\u2019d snuck away <br> from the school bonfire with the Carlisle girls from the next street over. They\u2019d accuse me of having nothing to do with my otherwise pathetically lonely existence besides eavesdrop, but they\u2019d back down.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">And then Max happened. My sister, Sondra, brought him home the year she was sixteen and we were thirteen. It was the fourth time in all our lives the Hannons had driven out to Detroit in their rusty old station wagon. It turned out to be the last time. Sondra was sophisticated \u2013 less than gorgeous, if you asked me. Periwinkle was always trying to get into Sondra\u2019s makeup vanity for what she called \u201cexperimental purposes.\u201d I nicked a stick of eyeliner for her once. Sondra read me the riot act, but I actually liked the way Periwinkle looked with it. She knew what she was doing, too.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">The week leading up to Christmas, shortly after the Hannons arrived, Sondra started looking like a clown with everything she wore. She told me to shut up when I pointed this out. The next day she strutted in with a buff senior on her arm. Neat brown hair. Mismatched eyes. Mother loved him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Periwinkle practically blew a fuse when she saw him. The look on her face made me sick.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Max spent Christmas morning with us, and then he and Sondra went for a spin in his Camaro. Periwinkle and I lounged the afternoon away, on our backs in front of the fire, rummaging through our gifts and leaving the adults to prepare the big meal in the kitchen. My parents had given Periwinkle a bound journal, despite my reminders that Periwinkle hated writing. Now here she was doodling away at a list. I rolled onto my stomach and saw <em>his eyes<\/em> at least three times. \u201cWhat\u2019s so great about his eyes?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou haven\u2019t noticed how one\u2019s blue and one\u2019s brown? I\u2019ve never met someone with mismatched eyes! Gol-<em>ly<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Periwinkle only said <em>gol-ly<\/em> when she wanted something. \u201cYou\u2019ll never have him, you know that, right?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">She brushed it off. \u201cA girl can dream.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cCan\u2019t you see how stupid he is?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHe\u2019s not stupid.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYes, he is. A big dumb jock.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">She sat up. \u201cHow can you say that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I shrugged. \u201cOkay, forget I said it. But don\u2019t get your hopes up. He\u2019s going to college next year, probably. He\u2019s an old man.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cHe\u2019s <em>beautiful<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI can\u2019t wait to see how fast he dumps Sondra for the next one.\u201d I rolled onto my back. \u201cTrust me, Periwinkle. Thirteen\u2019s too young, anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">She looked at me for a moment before lying back down. \u201cYou\u2019re just jealous because you\u2019ve never felt this.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I opened my mouth, but I didn\u2019t have a comeback. I\u2019d never really looked at boys in that light, they were just kind of there. And they treated me the same. Still, I had my pride to protect. \u201cFor your information, I have made the conscious choice not to cheapen my life with silly thoughts of romance.\u201d There.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cSuch a liar,\u201d she muttered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAm not.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAre too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt doesn\u2019t matter!\u201d I said. \u201cUnless you want to end up like Sondra, falling at any guy\u2019s feet?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cIt doesn\u2019t look like she does that. They seem to respect each other.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou don\u2019t know how many boyfriends she\u2019s had.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWell, if it makes you feel better, I won\u2019t end up like \u2018that.\u2019\u201d She made air quotes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYou\u2019re in dangerous territory.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cMax is <em>one guy<\/em>. I\u2019m not boy-crazy, Tuesday. I\u2019ll be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I propped myself up on my elbows. \u201cNot if it\u2019s the <em>wrong<\/em> guy.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cFor Pete\u2019s sake, it\u2019s not like I\u2019m going to try to steal him away from your sister.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI\u2019m just saying I don\u2019t want you to get involved in \u2013\u201dShe let out an aggravated sigh. \u201c\u2018Get involved?\u2019 I <em>like<\/em> Max. It\u2019s a fantasy. Please don\u2019t do what my brain already does for me.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cTelling me what I should and shouldn\u2019t \u2018get involved in.\u2019 It\u2019s just like you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">For the first time possibly ever, I heard bitterness in her voice. \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">She stood up and meandered over to the other end of the room. \u201cYou\u2019ve always been the one in charge. Which was fine when we were younger, but\u2026I need some space.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I was kind of shocked. \u201cI thought you had fun.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI did\u2026but there was always this part of me that wondered, when\u2019s it my turn? You know? Well, you don\u2019t.\u201d She sat on the far edge of the couch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI mean,\u201d I said slowly, \u201cI think I was pretty good, for the most part\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cExcept for your obsessive need to be first and to win everything.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cSo, you\u2019ve had this list of gripes for a while now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cWhat was I supposed to say? You scared me sometimes, Tuesday, I\u2019ll be honest.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cI\u2019ve always been there for you,\u201d I argued, getting to my feet. \u201cI beat up those boys. Remember how they made fun of you? Every day, almost. And then that one day they got a fist in the face?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cAnd I got a kickball in the face.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I blinked. We hadn\u2019t played kickball since we were nine. That day was mild, the street was plowed. One of the boys, the youngest, blond, moronic-looking, was chanting \u201cPeri-tinkle\u201d over and over, the funniest thing the others had heard all day. Their jeering interrupted our game. I was already in a bad mood. I marched up to the blond one and slugged him in the face. And something in me had snapped big-time because I knocked him down and took my fists to every inch of him within my reach. By the time the other boys pulled me off him, he was curled up and whimpering. I dusted my hands off, spat in the slush at the other boys\u2019 feet, and tried to refocus. Then I remembered: Periwinkle was up, four to three. I wasn\u2019t really aware of myself until I\u2019d picked up the kickball and chucked it at her. She was standing a few feet from me and it hit her smack in the forehead. She wobbled and swayed and then her knees buckled. The red lifted from my eyes and I found her out cold. It took me a while to register that I had done it, but when Mother came to the door demanding to know what all the shouting was for, I told her the boys had thrown the ball at Periwinkle\u2019s head and I\u2019d chased them off. She believed me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cYeah,\u201d I mumbled. There was no reason for this to be so vivid in my mind. \u201cI guess so.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">\u201cThat\u2019s the day I started to wonder whether you really cared about me at all.\u201d She glanced at the carpet and scoffed. \u201cWell, once I came to.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I was trying to swallow my heart from my throat. \u201cI\u2019m\u2026I\u2019m <em>really<\/em> sorry, Periwinkle.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">Her eyes met mine. My pulse skipped. \u201cI think that\u2019s the first time you\u2019ve ever said that.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I\u2019d apologized plenty in my life, with some coaxing, but probably never to Periwinkle. The sudden need to make up for lost time filled me from the bottom of my soul, almost overwhelming the bother about Max, about Periwinkle liking Max. Almost.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">My feet were heavy as I came toward the couch. The room dimmed like a dying TV screen. I sat down next to her and leaned in as if to hug her, and I didn\u2019t stop leaning until my mouth found the left corner of her mouth, Soft and tender, like peach skin. When I leaned back, Periwinkle was staring at me, white as a sheet. I could tell by her ponytail that she was shaking. Part of me didn\u2019t know what I had just done, and part of me was completely sure. I had never been in love. I had never been in love with a boy. I hoped this was an okay apology.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">A minute or maybe a lifetime later, we saw Mother and Mrs. Hannon in the doorway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-medium-font-size\"><strong>***<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">At Christmas dinner, Sondra sat beside me, Max across from her. Periwinkle across from me, as usual. It was deadly silent. Mother requested the roasted potatoes. Periwinkle handed the dish down the table. Roasted potatoes were her favorite, and she hadn\u2019t taken any.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">I tried three separate times to catch her eye. Periwinkle didn\u2019t look back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">__________<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color has-link-color has-medium-font-size wp-elements-e20c95837e43d4dc9d1b8b529610d078\" style=\"color:#000000\"><a href=\"http:\/\/www.cosifaccioio.com\/\"><strong>Redfern Boyd<\/strong><\/a> is the pen name Cecilia Gigliotti has thought of going by since she first drafted this story nearly eight years ago. Much of her work deals with pop culture, childhood trauma, and things famous people have said when they thought no one was listening. Her essays, poems, and photography appear in publications including <em>The Atticus Review<\/em>, <em>Outrageous Fortune<\/em>, <em>The Route 7 Review<\/em>, <em>Transformations<\/em>, <em><a href=\"https:\/\/rizapress.com\/2020\/01\/08\/a-night-at-the-opera\/?fbclid=IwAR1Ko9zbK8St_NNsRDP9Dj44mTxPo1-TKXj2UJpB9xGC52O0e4dYo4ws-Vg\">Riza<\/a><\/em>, <em><a href=\"https:\/\/bluemusemag.com\/2018\/05\/03\/leslie-leeds-poetry-prize-2018\/\">Blue Muse Magazine<\/a><\/em>, <em>Visiting Bob: Poems Inspired by the Life and Work of Bob Dylan<\/em>, and <em><a href=\"https:\/\/writingforpeace.org\/cecilia-gigliotti\/?fbclid=IwAR1hE6IJHoyh4ESxFGaCk7A2afGlAVaHKCcAe5oQdm9hrsldclKHc8aVGFg\">DoveTales: Writing for Peace<\/a><\/em>. She ghostwrites for Galatea Addictive Stories, an app powered by the online publishing forum Inkitt.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p><strong>__________<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n<div class=\"wp-block-image\">\n<figure class=\"alignleft size-full\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" width=\"438\" height=\"211\" src=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg\" alt=\"\" class=\"wp-image-15484\" srcset=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1.jpg 438w, https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-content\/uploads\/sites\/37\/2024\/01\/boudin-logo-1-300x145.jpg 300w\" sizes=\"auto, (max-width: 438px) 100vw, 438px\" \/><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-align-center has-large-font-size\">&lt;&lt; <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2020\/06\/18\/three-microfictions-by-tyler-barton\/\">Back<\/a> <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/2020\/05\/19\/the-sound-of-silence-by-amanda-hays\/\">Next<\/a> &gt;&gt;<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-medium-font-size\">To learn more about submitting your work to <em><a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/boudin-submissions\/\">Boudin<\/a><\/em> or applying to McNeese State University&#8217;s Creative Writing <a href=\"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/mfa-application-submissions\/\">MFA program<\/a>, please visit Submissions for details.<\/p>\n\n\n\n<p class=\"has-text-color\" style=\"color:#ffffff\">***<\/p>\n\n\n<\/p>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>Winter with Periwinkle Redfern Boyd __________ Summer gets all the glory. People talk about their lives changing during the hot months. Our season was winter, especially the limbo between Christmas and New Year\u2019s. That time belonged to us, me and Periwinkle, and to our families, who lived the other eleven and a half months six&hellip;<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[252],"tags":[75,77,84,26],"class_list":["post-13725","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-boudin-2020","tag-boudin","tag-mcneesereview","tag-redfernboyd","tag-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13725","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=13725"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13725\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":22333,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13725\/revisions\/22333"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=13725"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=13725"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mcneese.edu\/thereview\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=13725"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}