Reasons to Be Happy (16 page)

“You’re not really going to kill him are you?”

Dad narrowed his eyes. “No. I won’t kill him. But
only
because—”

I waited. When he didn’t finish, I said, “What?”

“Only because I don’t want to go back to jail,” he admitted.

I threw my head back on the ugly green cot and laughed. It felt so, so good, even on my trashed throat.

Africa had been a distraction, not a cure. It was silly of me to think the struggle was over.

But I
wanted
it to be.

That was a new twist on this old, boring story.

Dad smiled and stroked my hair. “We’re going to be all right, aren’t we?”

I nodded. “I think we really are.”

• • •

Although we arrived at the Academy Awards in the same limo and would be seated together, Dad and I had to part from Izzy and Modesta for the red carpet gauntlet. We answered inane questions about our clothes and about Mom. “How does it feel to be here without her?”

What
kind
of
moronic
question
is
that?
I wanted to scream.
How
do
you
think
it
feels?

“She’s here in spirit,” Dad would say each time.

I’d been coached for all this, just as Dad had prepared to be asked about the competition (he was up against his best friend, Sean, which the reporters loved).

When we finally got inside, we found our seats with Izzy and Modesta, the rest of the documentary team in the row behind us.

I was so proud of my friend sitting beside me. Although I found lots of the awards ceremony pretty boring, she seemed enthralled. We probably had four hours ahead of us to go, but I already wished I was at Jasper’s house, in jeans instead of all dolled up.

• • •

Oh, that’s right. Jasper. I told you how we almost blew it, but I didn’t tell you how we fixed it. After that horrible first day back at school, after I’d relapsed, then passed out in the bathroom, Jasper showed up at my house.

I’d been out in the backyard. Dad was inside with Sean and Laila. I could’ve helped with dinner, but I felt fidgety. I dug around in the garage and unearthed a board about the size of a cookie sheet. I gathered my African supplies, found a bucket and mixed up the clay. I sat in the backyard—under the lemon tree—in dirt that was brown, not red, with no monkeys waiting to rob me. Instead of palm oil and cook fires, the air smelled of eucalyptus. I began to build another African market scene.

I got lost in it. So lost, the time slipped by again.

So lost, I didn’t hear the back gate open.

So lost, I jumped big time when Jasper said, “Hey, Hannah,” from right behind me.

“Whoa,” he said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Your dad told me to put my bike back here.”

I scrambled to my feet after crouching too long, so dizziness slammed me for the second time that day. I put out my hands, and Jasper caught me in a sort of rescue hug. “Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah,” I said, blinking hard to bring the backyard back into sight.

The yard righted itself.

“I came to see if you were all right,” Jasper said.

We stood, holding each other’s hands as if we were about to dance.

I pulled away, confused. I found my voice, but it was thin and shaky. “I don’t get it. If you care enough to come over and see if I’m okay, why wouldn’t you talk to me this morning?”

He shoved his hands in his pockets. “You really hurt my feelings, Hannah,” he said.

“
I
hurt
your
feelings?” I asked. “How?”

“Oh, come on. You said you only wanted to see me when the B-Squad wasn’t around. How do you think that made me feel?”

The yard slanted. “
What?
When did I say that?”

“In your email on Saturday.”

I thought back. I hadn’t said that, had I? I tried to remember my wording. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, the yard slanted back to how it was supposed to be. This was fixable.

“Jasper, that’s not what I meant at all. At
all
. I can see how you might’ve thought that, based on what I said. I typed it so fast, and I was kind of nervous. But, really, I just didn’t want to
wait
until Monday. I wanted to see you as soon as I could.”

He stood there, absorbing this. He took his time, just like he did in class. He tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Why were you nervous?”

Truth just kept spilling out of my mouth. “I was nervous because I really like you, Jasper, and I didn’t want to make an idiot of myself if you didn’t like me back.”

“How could you think I didn’t like you, based on our emails?”

“That’s what I
thought
, but then this morning, I was so…oh my God, I was…
crushed
.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I am too. But how could you think I didn’t want to be seen with you based on
my
emails?”

He unfurled his grin. “I was nervous.”

“Why were you nervous?”

He tossed his hair out of his eyes. “Because I really like you Hannah. I was scared to believe you liked me back.”

I thought I might levitate.

He hugged me. For real this time.

The top of my head fit just under his chin. I closed my eyes. He smelled so good.

“Wow,” he said when he ended the embrace. He looked down at the miniature market I’d been making.

We pulled apart, but he kept hold of one of my hands. My cheeks blazed. I wondered if Dad, Sean, and Laila were watching.

“This is amazing,” Jasper said, real admiration in his voice.

He sat down cross-legged in the dry grass to look closer, his nose inches from the clay, beads, and aluminum. “You are so talented.”

I laughed.

“And you look so…beautiful.”

I stubbed my toe in the dirt. “Well, you know, a little visit to the third world can help you lose weight.”

He looked baffled. “I’m not talking about weight. I’m talking about your face. Your…glow.”

I didn’t know what to do with my hands. He looked at me as intently as he had the market.

“It’s the first thing I noticed this morning,” he said. “You look…transformed.”

I touched the brass figure on my breast bone. “I
am
transformed.”

What I loved about Jasper is that he didn’t take it as a joke. He nodded.

I sat down on the grass beside him. “I feel like the real me is back. The authentic me. I’m…happy. I haven’t been happy for a long time.” I couldn’t think of a single other person my own age that I could share this with.

“Authenticity and happiness are the best beauty products out there.”

He touched my cheek. I felt dizzy all over again. I put my hand over his and then held it. “Your emails meant so much to me,” I said. “I was having a really hard time.”

“I think that’s probably an understatement.”

That golden triangle hypnotized me.

“I don’t just mean my mom”—God, I couldn’t even say it. Would that ever get easier?—“or my dad getting arrested. I was having a hard time before that. Those things”—things seemed the wrong word. Could you call your mother dying a “thing”?—“just made it worse, but like I told you, I have some issues.”

Don’t tell him!
What
are
you
doing?

“I could kinda tell, Hannah.” His forehead scrunched up. “What happened today?”

I wanted to shrink and hide inside my miniature market. “I owe you an explanation of…”

He shook his head. “You don’t owe me anything, Hannah.”

“I want to be honest. You’re always so real and honest.”

“Well, okay,” he said. “But don’t tell me if you’re not ready. It doesn’t have to be today.”

Don’t tell him!
He
just
gave
you
permission
not
to
tell
him!

I kept hold of his hand. I looked down at his hand and held it in both of mine, tracing those graceful fingers with my own. Then, I stepped off the cliff. “I have Bulimia.”

Falling,

falling,

flailing in horrible free fall. I’d shatter on the rocks below, everything disgusting and revolting splattering out of me. This sweet, nice boy would find an excuse to leave.

I looked up at Jasper’s face…and the free fall stopped. His face was still open and kind.

Not disgusted.

Not revolted.

Maybe a little sad. That’s all.

I exhaled.

He squeezed my hand. “How’d that feel?”

“Terrifying,” I admitted. I looked only at his hand when I asked, “You don’t think it’s gross?”

“Well…yeah, bulimia is pretty gross.”

I stiffened.

“But
you
aren’t gross, Hannah. There’s a big difference.”

He was right. Bulimia
was
gross. I marveled again that I’d missed how amazing he was when I’d first met him.

He took my hand and turned it palm down to rub that blister mark he’d noticed all that time ago. It was fainter, lots fainter, but still there. It had taken a while to build it up, so no doubt it would take a while to fade away.

I went inside and got Jasper his gift. I gave him the strip of kente cloth and told him all about the chief who’d taught me to bargain. “I thought maybe you could put that on your piano.”

He ran his fingers over the fabric. “Someday, when I have my own piano, I certainly will.”

“You don’t have a piano?”

He shook his head. “That’s why I practice at school all the time. Pam lets me in really early, before the school doors are unlocked. Dexter’s let me in on weekends too.”

“The more I learn about you, the more amazing you become.”

He leaned forward, his face toward mine. Was he going to
kiss
me?

Panic made me duck my face, and I instantly regretted it.
Why? Why? You big chicken!

He stood. “Now it’s time for
your
gift.” He went to his backpack on the ground near his bike and pulled out a long, flat box. As he walked back to me, I saw it was a See’s Candy box. Now, See’s Candy is very, very good, but…My smile tightened. You could give your teacher candy. You could give your grandmother candy. You could give
anyone
candy!

When he handed the box to me, it felt unusually heavy with my disappointment. “Thanks, Jasper.” I forced my voice cheerful and perky.

He sat down beside me again. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

“Oh! Would you like some?”

I didn’t understand why he laughed until I opened the box.

Inside the box, in each of the little holes where a chocolate would go was a…rock.

“Take one,” he urged.

I looked at his face, wary—was he mocking me?—but his expression was kind, eager.

I picked up one rock, but it was in two pieces. I held the top half and saw that inside this plain, gray rock were purple glittery sparkles. “Oh,” I breathed.

The story. The story I’d told him, about realizing a bigger world existed. He’d remembered!

Jasper handed me the bottom half of the rock he’d picked up off the ground. In the space where the rock had been was a folded piece of paper, the size of a fortune from a cookie. I unfolded it and read the words,
You
are
a
survivor
.

“You are the coolest guy alive,” I whispered.

Each of the rocks held a startling surprise inside, and each had a paper underneath.
You
are
an
incredible
artist
,
You
see
the
world
in
a
unique
way
,
I
can
tell
you
apart
,
You’re authentic
,
Your
hair
is
the
exact
color
of
honey
,
You’re smart
,
You’re funny
,
You
can
cut
onions
without
crying
,
There
is
nothing
fake
about
you
, and
You
are
brave.

My very, very favorite one was the last one I unfolded.
You
are
beautiful
inside
and
out.

I swallowed. The lemon tree’s aroma suddenly seemed overwhelming.

He tossed his hair out of his eyes. “You thought it was just a lame box of candy, didn’t you?”

I laughed and nodded.

He leaned in again.

This time I didn’t duck.

He tasted minty and warm. My legs dissolved even though I already sat down.

I would’ve kissed Jasper all day.

I would’ve kissed Jasper forever.

But my dad came out on the deck and yelled in an odd, high-pitched voice that didn’t sound like him at all, “Hey, you guys! You want some dinner?”

• • •

129. Kissing

130. Perfect, unique, special personal gifts

131. A good run when you feel like you’re floating

132. Being in love

133. Kissing

I thought about my first kiss, and all the kisses with Jasper since, as the awards ceremony crawled on.

At long last, the documentary category rolled around.

I had to remember that they occasionally panned the audience, and they would certainly show my dad and I while Aunt Izzy was up—everyone milked our connection for all it was worth.

I smiled, but I felt sick. It took forever for the actress in pink sequins to open the envelope.

Aunt Izzy won. She held Modesta’s hand and led her up the stairs to the stage.