Living with Jackie Chan (27 page)

Then the justice of the peace arrives and has us all cram into the gazebo and stand in a circle around Larry and Arielle. She asks me and Arielle’s sister to step forward and stand inside the circle with Larry and Arielle. Larry’s eyes are already watery. “Calm down,” Arielle whispers. She winks at him.

Searching the circle, I see all the people of my two lives. My life before, and my life after. My parents. My two best friends. Stella. Gil, Gene, and Ben. Star and Calvin. Even the old lady from Apartment Two. Plus a bunch of Larry and Arielle’s closest friends. Everyone’s smiling. Everyone’s happy. A year ago, I never would have believed I could feel like this. Like I belonged. Like I was worth something. Like I was loved. A sappy, warm feeling fills my chest. Like it’s filling up with something good. I think Larry’s corniness is rubbing off on me.

After Larry and Arielle read their vows, the JP turns to me and asks for the rings. I pull them out on the little pink ribbon Arielle tied them to. On the rings, there’s a pattern of pine needles, to remind them of the place they got engaged, on a wooded trail in Vermont. They slip them on each other’s fingers. Tears stream down Larry’s cheeks. “Don’t make my mascara run, you goof,” Arielle says. But it’s too late.

At this point, practically everyone is wiping their eyes. It’s like a gush fest. But that seems appropriate, given this is all about Larry and Arielle’s big day. Finally, the JP announces they’re married, and Larry whoops before he grabs Arielle and dips her back and gives her a romantic kiss. Everyone laughs, and then we all move in to hug them. And then, as Larry would say, it’s time to party.

We’re like one big crazy parade, following Larry and Arielle through the park and down the road to their favorite Spanish tapas restaurant. It’s the same one Larry took me and Stella to the day he told us he was going to ask Arielle to marry him. There’s a roof-deck dining room they rented out, so we have the whole place to ourselves. Larry and Arielle arranged a big, long table with enough settings for all of us. A crew of waitstaff bring tray after tray of dishes for us to try. Another waiter is in charge of keeping wineglasses full, but Larry already told him not to give any to me and my friends. I notice that my mom and dad stick to water, too.

After everyone is completely stuffed, the waiters come out with champagne and pour everyone a glass. Even me and my friends, though we get noticeably less than everyone else. But no one takes a drink. Instead, they all look at me expectantly and wait. Stella leans over and whispers, “I think you’re supposed to give a toast.”

“Me?”

“Best man.”

Crap. Why didn’t anyone warn me?

Stella motions for me to raise my glass and stand up.

I take a deep breath and lift my glass. Larry and Arielle glow up at me.

“Uh,” I say. I clear my throat.

“He’s speechless,” Larry says.

“Quiet, Larry.” Arielle nudges him.

“Most of you know, Larry has been letting me stay with him this past school year so I could go to Roosevelt.”

“And he just graduated today! Woo-hoo!” Larry shouts.

Dave woots.

I think they
are
long-lost brothers.

“Anyway. Thanks, Larry. It’s been a great year.”

“It was my pleasure,” Larry says. He wipes his eyes.

“When I met Arielle,” I continue, “I knew she was perfect for Larry. There aren’t many people who can put up with his kind of crazy.”

“Hey!”

“I mean it in the best way, Larry.” I turn to Arielle. “Thanks for giving Larry a chance,” I tell her. “I hope you guys have a life filled with all the things that make you happy. And since that’s each other, I think you’re well on your way.”

I raise my glass, and everyone else does the same. “To Arielle and Larry. I hope you have a lifetime of happiness.”

“Hear, hear!” my dad yells, and everyone echoes him.

Then we all drink. Except for my mom and dad, who put down their glasses and drink from their water.

“Wow, man,” Dave says to me when I sit back down. “You’ve turned into a real sap.”

Caleb elbows him.

“Ow! I didn’t say that was a
bad
thing!”

I drain my champagne. Before I can refill my glass with the bottle the waiters left on the table, Larry pulls it away. “Save room for cake,” he says. Like that makes any sense.

As if on cue, the chef comes through the door, pushing a cart with a big cake on it. The cake has a gazebo on top that looks just like the one at the park. Everyone
ooh
s and
ahh
s over it, especially Larry and Arielle. Arielle’s sister gets up with a new glass of champagne. “My turn,” she says.

“Larry and Arielle, I knew the minute I first saw you together, you were meant to be that way always, just like Josh said. You make each other smile. You make each other more beautiful. When Arielle asked me to be in charge of the cake, I decided to take a day trip over to the park and get some photos of the place where you’d say your vows. Now, I know Arielle asked me to be in charge of the cake because we both think Jackson at Cake Tops is super cute.”

“Oh,
really
?” Larry asks, looking at Arielle in this ridiculously jealous way.

“Oh, stop it,” she says.

“
Any
way,” Arielle’s sister goes on, “Jackson and I decided that it would be really amazing to make a gazebo to go on the top of the cake. And Jackson has a friend who’s a glassblower. And it just so happens that this glassblower friend is even cuter than Jackson. Don’t you think?” She motions to the guy sitting next to her, who blushes. Larry whistles.

“
Any
way,” she says again, “thanks, Arielle, for the excuse to visit Jackson. Which led to me meeting Andy. Who made the most beautiful gazebo I think I’ve ever seen.” She raises her glass. “To Larry and Arielle!” she says.

We all lift our glasses again. Unfortunately, mine is empty.

“And to Andy!” Larry says.

He and Arielle get up to cut the cake just as a group of people walk out on the deck with guitars and hand drums and start playing music. People eat and dance, and it’s like this never-ending party. Larry and Arielle dance the whole time. Every so often, they move close to the table and grab up someone who looks bored or who hasn’t been humiliated on the dance floor yet. I make a big effort to look very busy anytime they get near.

I keep catching Stella looking at the dance area hopefully, until Star and Calvin start making out as they slow dance.

“Someone needs to get a room,” Dave jokes.

But we all saw Stella’s face when she noticed them, so no one thinks it’s funny.

Dave and Caleb have spent the last hour filling me in on all the crap that’s been happening for the past year that they couldn’t really elaborate on in e-mail and texts. Mainly, that Caleb is still seeing Corinne and that Dave and his girlfriend may be getting back together. I can feel the dance we’re doing. It’s kind of like sparring. They keep throwing punches of info at me, and I keep waiting for the big knockout punch. The thing maybe they want to tell me about most. About how Ellie’s been doing.

But I’m not going to ask. And they won’t say anything unless I do. So I’m safe.

Safe.

“Yo, man, you should really ask her to dance,” Dave whispers to me when Stella turns away from us to talk to Arielle’s sister.

“She’s on crutches,” I say.

“You could carry her,” Dave suggests.

“Oh, please,” I say.

“C’mon, dude. She’s hot!” Dave says.

“We’re just friends.”

“So? She’s still hot!”

I sigh. “If you get me a glass of champagne, I’ll do it.”

Caleb reaches under the table with both hands. A minute later, he’s passing me a water glass with a mysteriously bubbly substance inside. I down it before Larry can stop me.

I sit for a minute, letting the warmth settle into my chest.

“It’s time,” Dave says, just as Stella turns back to us.

“Time for what?” she asks.

“Time to dance?” I ask.

She blushes. “Finally!”

I stand up, and she takes my hand. The minute our skin connects, I feel that familiar jolt I always feel when we touch. I purposely do not turn back to see what Dave and Caleb are doing, because most likely it involves annoying expressions and exchanges of money, since I’m sure they bet on whether or not I’d have the balls to ask Stella to dance.

“Um, how are we going to do this?” I ask her, looking down at her injured foot.

“I have no idea. Let’s just see what happens.”

She leans on me and we kind of hobble forward on three legs until we make it out to the dance floor. Stella reaches for my shoulders, and I put my hands around her waist, then we kind of pivot around slowly, her on one foot.

“Thanks,” she whispers in my ear.

“For what?”

“This. I always wanted to slow dance like this.”

“You never have?”

“Missed prom, remember?”

“But there must have been other times.”

She shrugs and rests her head on my chest.

“I hear prom is the top overrated event of all the big life events,” I tell her.

“You made that up.”

“No, really. This is way better. We get to be with the people we want to be with. Not all those losers who care where your dress came from and how much it cost and whether you hired a freakin’ limo or not.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

“I never thought you’d have given so much thought to prom.”

“Just how to avoid it.”

“Well, you’re probably right,” she says. “This is pretty nice.”

“I’m really sorry you had to miss yours, though,” I tell her. “I should have, like, asked you. But I was too chicken.”

“I would have said no, anyway.”

“Oh. Um — thanks?”

“Not because of you. Just because . . . it would have been too awkward. All my friends would be like, ‘What happened with Britt?’ and it would end up being a stupid gossip fest.”

“Well, I’m still sorry you didn’t get to go.”

“We’re here now, so let’s not stress about it. It’s the thought that counts.”

We turn and turn. Slowly. Barely to the music. This moment could last forever. Just like this. Just us here. But I can feel the music slowing down and ending. And I don’t know what to do next. Because in a week, I’ll be leaving. And at the end of the summer, we’ll be going to different cities. And all I’ll have left to remind me of Stella is a rock I’m supposed to talk to.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, looking up at me.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” I say. “I was just thinking.”

“About something sad?”

I hold her a little closer and force myself to smile. “Nah,” I say. “No worries.”

She rests her head on my chest again and holds me back.

“Liar,” she whispers.

As the next song starts, I know before I turn around that it’s my dad playing. And when I see Larry’s face, I realize I’m not the only one my dad used to play the song for. Tears slowly slip down Larry’s cheeks as he stands there, staring at my dad and his guitar. My dad. Playing this slow, sad lullaby with a voice that sounds different from the one I remember. My mom walks over to Larry, and they start to slowly dance together.

“I thought you said your dad’s band was lame,” Stella says quietly. “I think he’s really good.”

“He doesn’t play like this with his band,” I say. “At least, he didn’t used to.”

She rests her head on my shoulder again and I try to hold her close like before, but somehow it suddenly feels so much harder. For some reason, she feels so heavy. I look over at Gil and Gene, who dance together holding Ben between them. He reaches his pudgy hand for Gil’s glasses and laughs. Gil smiles, and Gene gently pulls Ben’s hand away, so gently that Ben doesn’t mind, but laughs again. The three of them move to the lullaby like a rocking chair, back and forth. My mom reaches for Larry’s face and wipes his cheeks dry. Arielle is dancing with her dad, and she does the same for him.

“What’s wrong?” Stella asks. But she doesn’t reach up and wipe my face, thank God. I close my eyes and listen to the music. Feel the weight — the life — of Stella against me, knowing that soon I will have to let her go.