Year of Mistaken Discoveries (23 page)

Brody clicked to the last slide. It was his photo of the little girl sitting on the log. I told the story to the audience about how when I’d seen the picture, I thought it looked almost eerie and how Brody had told me the truth behind the shot. “I realize now that you can’t control how people see things. Everyone brings their own perspective. I’ve learned that the only thing I can control is myself. I found my birth mom, but it didn’t matter. What I really needed to find was myself. I’m not there yet, but I’m getting closer.” I took a deep breath. It was over. “Thanks for your attention.”

The audience applauded. Shannon and Lydia stood up, trying for a standing ovation, which made me smile. I could see the next two people standing off to the side, ready to do their talk, so I paused to look one last time around the auditorium and then walked off the stage.

chapter thirty-one

O
nce I was in the wings, my legs started to shake, and I sat down on a roll of carpet left behind from the fall drama production. I felt light-headed. Brody wove his way through the abandoned set pieces and sat next to me.

“That was some talk,” he said.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you I changed it. I felt like it was something I had to do myself.” I glanced over. “You’re not mad about me calling your mom, are you?”

Brody shook his head. “No. I can’t believe she came.”

“It seemed like she wanted to come. I think she was just waiting to be invited. I’m sorry about all of it, the way I acted.”

“Me too. You were right, you know, when you said I was acting like a tortured artist.” He pretended to stab himself in the heart. “I got on your case because you were trying to make
things happen in your life, when I was too afraid to admit what I wanted in case someone told me I couldn’t have it.”

“Your parents should know you’re an amazing photographer. I didn’t know your dad’s number, so I had to settle for just your mom.”

“I’m not sure it will make a difference. She sort of sees what she wants to see. I suppose I shouldn’t let it get to me so much.”

“I think your parents don’t know you. That’s their fault, but you could try harder.”

“Forget about my parents. I should have tried harder to understand what you were going through. I didn’t get why finding your birth mom mattered so much to you and Nora.”

“It’s hard to explain. You know where you come from; knowing that history matters. People talk about how they have Irish heritage, or have a temper like their dad, or they’re proud of great-grandparents who had the guts to immigrate for a better life. They want to be in the army because they had some relative who did that, or people talk about how they’re artistic like Great-Aunt Harriet. I have none of that history to build on. I think I thought if I could know those things I’d somehow know myself better.”

“Having that history isn’t always a good thing either,” he pointed out. “Look at my family.”

“You’re who you want to be.”

Brody was quiet for a beat. “It’s weird. History can hold you back if you let it.”

“I think I was afraid of my history. Really, when you peel everything back, the truth was that I was abandoned. My birth mom didn’t want me, so she just walked away. I always said that didn’t bother me, but it did. I think I was always trying to make sure that it never happened again. If I could be perfect enough, no one else would leave.”

Brody pulled me closer to him. “But you’ve got it all wrong. You weren’t abandoned.”

I cocked an eyebrow at him. “What would you call it?”

“You were lost so you could be found.” He leaned forward so our faces were just a few inches apart. “She made sure you had a family. She left you to be discovered.”

I sat and thought about his words. “What if there’s nothing to be discovered?”

Brody smiled. “There’s a whole world to explore.”

I leaned forward and then hesitated. Brody met me the rest of the way and we were kissing.

He pulled back after a minute and smiled at me. “You know, the two of us are pretty messed up.”

“Candidates for years of therapy.”

“Now, you know what Bradshaw would say.” Brody made the fish mouth. “Our tortured pasts are what will make us the best superheroes. Batman had to suffer, after all, in order to really embrace his bat side.”

“What about Wonder Woman? I don’t think she had a tortured past. She was an Amazon princess. No sign of issues.
It seems to me, you and Batman are the messed-up ones.”

Brody scoffed. “Are you kidding me? The woman has an invisible plane and likes to fight using a Lasso of Truth. That’s a girl with some issues. When you want to tie people up in order to talk to them—you have problems. Who knows what happened to her in the Amazon? You know what they say: What happens in the Amazon stays in the Amazon.”

“Do you want to go out this weekend with my friends? They want to get to know you,” I said.

“Can you risk it?” Brody smirked. “I mean, I’m pretty hot. Now they’ve seen my pictures, and it’s just a matter of time until they find out about my Batman alter ego. Chicks dig a guy with a tortured past.”

“I’ll risk it. Besides, if you get out of line, I’ll tie you up with my lasso.”

Brody winked. “Now, that sounds interesting.”

I pushed him in the side, but then leaned forward and kissed him again. He put his arms around me, pulling me even closer. I folded into him. The place where our mouths met was the only real thing that anchored me to the earth, otherwise I’d float away.

Someone behind us cleared her throat and we flew apart. Ms. Fierera was standing there. She looked like she was trying not to smile. I stood in a hurry and nearly tripped over the carpet roll. I would have fallen except for the fact Brody caught my elbow and kept me from going down. I pulled my skirt into
place. Great. Now she could add “uncoordinated” to my file.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Ms. Fierera said. “I wondered if you’d like to do your interview now.”

I tucked my hair behind my ears. “Yes, that would be great.”

“Your guidance counselor has arranged for us to use his office so we can have some privacy.” She smiled at me. “I’ll meet you there in ten minutes.”

I nodded.

She started to walk away and then stopped and turned back around. “You may not have been trying to do it, but for the record, Ms. Scott, you were impressive out there. Very impressive.”

When she was gone, Brody picked me up and spun me around. “She loves you.”

I whacked him on the back so he’d put me down “Let’s not get carried away. I haven’t blown it yet. There’s still time.”

“No way. I could see it in her eyes. Trust me, Batman knows these things.” He smiled. “She’s from Duke—she’s gotta be smart, right? She’d be crazy not to love you.”

“Maybe.”

“I do.”

I stared at Brody; maybe I wasn’t understanding what he meant. “You do . . . what?”

He winked and then kissed me. “Knock her dead.”

chapter thirty-two

T
he sun was out and the sky was a perfect flat blue. The snow was blindingly white outside. The weather, combined with the fact it was a Friday, meant no one was interested in focusing on school.

“Okay, people, pay attention! The way you fill out the form is how your name is going to appear on your diploma in the spring. You need to decide if you want your middle name on there. No nicknames!” Bradshaw waved his hands around, trying to keep our attention.

The entire senior class was in the cafeteria so that we could go over details for graduation. We were all given copies of our transcripts and the list of what courses we had in the spring semester so we could each double-check our credits. We filled out forms to order caps and gowns. There was also an opportunity
to choose a selection of overpriced Northside High paraphernalia, including class rings that no one would be interested in ten minutes after graduation.

I spotted Brody a few tables over and he smiled.

“He’s got it bad for you,” Lydia said, noticing his gaze.

I flushed. “It’s mutual.”

“You know, I was looking at a map the other day. New York and Durham aren’t that far apart. You could drive it in a day.” Lydia acted like she was interested in her form, but I could see her smiling.

“Looking out for me, huh?”

She jostled me with her elbow. “What are friends for?”

I still hadn’t heard anything from Lisa, my birth mom. I didn’t know if that was because she was trying to decide how to fit me into her current life, or if she’d made the decision that there wasn’t any room. I’d hoped there would be a typical Hollywood ending where she would show up and confess that she’d made a horrible mistake, but it hadn’t happened yet. I was trying to wrap my head around the idea that it might not. As my parents, my real parents, pointed out, if she didn’t take the time to know me, it would be her loss. I was working on convincing myself of that and in the meantime taking some comfort in the idea that my parents believed it completely. She wasn’t the birth mom I wanted, but when it really mattered, she’d done the right thing. She made the decision to give me the family I needed.

Bradshaw clapped his hands to get our attention. “We’re
going to do one more thing. Take out a sheet of paper.” He walked up and down the rows, passing out plain envelopes. “You’re going to write a letter to your future self and put it in the envelope. I’ll collect them all and box them up. For your ten-year reunion you’ll get your letter back.” People shifted in their chairs, pulling out pens and cracking jokes about what they were going to write. Ten years from now seemed like a lifetime. We’d be twenty-eight, which seemed impossibly old.

“You’re the only one who will see the letters, so feel free to be open and honest. Talk about what you hope you’ve accomplished in that time, your hopes and dreams. When you’re done with your letter, seal it up and give it to me. Once you’ve done that, then you’re free to go back to class.”

I rubbed the silver locket my parents had given me for nailing my interview with Duke. I’d heard two weeks ago that I’d been accepted. My mom declared that everyone needed their own lucky locket. My pen glided across the page.

Dear Future Me,

It’s hard to imagine you/me in the future. We’re supposed to write what we hope for—I guess so in the future we can either laugh at what dorks we were in high school, or get depressed over all the things we wanted to do and never did.

My wishes for the future are pretty vague. I used to think I had things sorted out, but I’ve decided to see where things lead. I hope I’m happy. I hope I’m the kind of person
who figures it is better to do things and fail than regret never having tried at all. I hope I have good friends and have never forgotten Nora. I hope I’m in love with someone who loves me back, and enough to give me the room to be who I really am. It’s scary not knowing, but it’s also exciting.

I don’t know what I’ll be doing in ten years. Brody’s always talking about perspective. About if we change how we look at things, we can see them in a new way. I’m counting on seeing things differently when I’m out of here. Maybe I’ll be a writer. I might even have a kid of my own. It’s possible that Nora had the best plan way back in first grade. She wanted to be a mermaid. I like that idea. I hope I’m magical and free and unafraid of swimming against the stream.

I drew a mermaid at the bottom of the page. I wasn’t going to win any art awards, but I still liked it. I folded up the letter and slid it into the envelope. Then I remembered something. I pulled out my bag. I was still carrying around the photo Brody had taken, the picture of the girl at the edge of the forest. I used to think she was scared, that someone was about to eat her. Now I realized she was at the verge of a big adventure. All she had to do was turn around and face it.

I slid the photograph in with the letter and sealed it shut. I glanced up. Brody had finished his letter and was waiting for me. It was time to move on.

EILEEN COOK
spent most of her teen years wishing she were someone else or somewhere else, which is great training for a writer. When she was unable to find any job postings for world-famous author, she went to Michigan State University and became a counselor so she could at least afford her book-buying habit. But real people have real problems, so she returned to writing because she liked having the ability to control the ending. Which is much harder with humans.

You can read more about Eileen, her books, and the things that strike her as funny at
eileencook.com
. Eileen lives in Vancouver with her husband and dogs, and no longer wishes to be anyone or anywhere else.

SIMON PULSE

Simon & Schuster, New York

authors.simonandschuster.com/Eileen-Cook

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