If It Makes You Happy Read online

  Emily Quan.

  Shahera Rose.

  “I told you to stop worrying about that. You only get to do this once, so get whatever you want.” She smiled, admiring the lamp’s kaleidoscopic shimmer. “It’ll look beautiful next to your bed.”

  “Technically, I’ll get to do it eight times.”

  Granny cut her eyes at me.

  I placed the lamp in the basket. “Beautiful. Thank you.” My college had provided a move-in checklist, and there were fifty-eleven articles on the internet in case they hadn’t. Back at home, my mom had gotten:

  Two sets of XL twin sheet sets—blackity black and polka-dot green/black

  One comforter—also black

  One throw blanket—green

  Requisite plastic fare—a drawer set with wheels, four cubes, and a shoe rack

  A complete flatware set

  Two sets of bath towels

  A rolling laundry basket

  Floating shelves

  Fairy lights

  With Granny, I had gotten: a fancy lamp.

  Granny pushed the basket as we walked to the next aisle—actual school supplies. Binders, paper, folders, pens, and pencils. Office supplies galore. Holy God—sparkly purple gel pens! I hadn’t seen those since elementary school.

  “I need these.” I also needed the things that worked well for my study system. Ooh! Neon mini Post-its! Several of those went into the cart. “Feeling better yet?” I asked Kara.

  “Nope. Still punchy.” Kara stared at the perfect stacks of composition notebooks. The ones that looked like they’d been covered in TV static were her favorite.

  I picked up matching notebooks and folders. Five different colored sets—one for each class. “Did something happen between you and Dallas?”

  Kara’s face revealed nothing. “Like what?”

  Last night, unable to sleep, I had revised and simplified my facts:

  Kara had a secret history and an ongoing problem with Dallas that she didn’t want to tell me about.

  Dallas had an ulterior motive in volunteering to be HSR King that he also didn’t want to tell me about.

  I had been trapped in the middle of a feud between my ungirlfriend and my newly crowned king. And I was pretty sure I had figured out why.

  “Like maybe he told you something important that upset you, something you should probably get around to telling me.” I tried to keep my tone neutral. Far from accusatory and even farther away from hope. My educated guess—that Dallas liked me and told Kara—could still be wrong.

  Her brow furrowed as she stared at me. “What makes you think that’s what happened?”

  “So something did happen?”

  “Maybe.” She turned away, picking through the folder selection.

  That meant yes. Kara didn’t deal in maybes. That was my job. Kara lived in absolutes. We would be together. She would win the Starlight contest.

  A maybe from her meant that she’d almost lied to me. A maybe from her meant she caught herself last minute. A maybe from her meant she didn’t want to tell me.

  More secrets.

  My initial gut reaction, anger, made my mouth snap shut before I said something I would no doubt regret.

  One … two … three …

  Even a simple tease or a reminder, “Since when do we keep secrets from each other,” could come out laced with venom. I couldn’t be honest with her if she refused to be honest with me, but that wasn’t how our relationship was supposed to work.

  Four … five … six …

  Kara was the only absolute I had. The only thing I could believe in and actually feel the weight, the truth, of it. I held on to that tighter than I should have, cherished it, hoarded it, and defended its honor. Breaking our rules wasn’t allowed.

  Seven … eight … nine …

  Lashing out would make things worse.

  “Got it,” I said. “No pressure, but is there something I need to know right now? I have to see him later for the photo shoot.”

  Kara didn’t answer immediately.

  I had watched my tone again because I didn’t want her to figure out how much I was looking forward to seeing Dallas. We hadn’t talked at all since he had won. And I was eager to—stupidly so. The second he clasped that pearl bracelet around my wrist and looked into my eyes, I was done for. Gone. My heart would have burst out of my chest and straight into his if that were physically possible. He had wanted to win. And he did … to be with me.

  I would tell Kara the truth. Soon. Just not yet. It wasn’t fair for me to have to be the one to lay all my cards on the table while she got to continue being so standoffish. I hated thinking that way, reducing our relationship to a scale where everything had to be perfect and balanced before we could move forward. That wasn’t us, but there we were.

  “If you like him,” Kara said, already starting to walk away, “then like him.”

  People seemed determined to be cryptic with me. I had to stop taking it personally before holding back my temper burst a blood vessel in my eye. I’d get to the bottom of this eventually.

  Miraculously, I let it go. For now.

  Granny continued to lead the way, heading straight to electronics for a projector. Easier than hauling a TV, it would also save space, since we could hook it up to our laptops and use a blank wall to watch whatever we wanted.

  Feeling a little antsy, I started to sing along to the song blasting through the store, twirling and two-stepping around the cart.

  “If you don’t stop.” Granny laughed anyway. “Don’t embarrass me in this store, missy.”

  My spirit did its usual happy dance, overjoyed to see Granny laugh and to be the one who caused it. I stood next to her, singing and moving my shoulders—the “deep shoulder action” move I’d learned from watching What’s Love Got to Do with It. For longer than I should probably admit to, I had thought Angela Bassett was Tina Turner. She was that good.

  I shimmied again, did a Five Heartbeats pivot and turn, and began shuffling like I’d seen in The Jacksons: An American Dream.

  Side note: that’s how I had figured out Angela Bassett was an actress and not Tina—because she also played Katherine Jackson. I’d also learned about those old movies because they were Granny’s favorites that she’d shared with me and Winston.

  Granny and Kara laughed that time, beaming at me, and for a quick second, everything felt exactly like it was supposed to.

  As we passed the clothes section, Granny turned sharp and with purpose. “Baby, let’s get you a new outfit. You need to look nice on your first day of class.”

  “I only have one class for ninety minutes.”

  “We’ll get you two, then. And some pajamas. Can’t have you running around in those holey stretch pants you refuse to throw away. And some underwear.” She poked my back fat. “And a good bra.”

  “Hey!” I twisted away, stomach cramping with instant anxiousness.

  “Well, you need ’em. Don’t you hey me.”

  “Fine, but not from here.” I lowered my voice. “I don’t think anything will fit.”

  “Won’t know until we try. Come on.”

  Kara busied herself with a row of piggy banks, pretending not to listen. We operated under the same game plan when it came to Granny. She picked her battles, too, and backed me up when I picked mine. Her distance signaled she was waiting for me to choose.

  Shopping for jeans would make me cry. T-shirts could be touch and go depending on the neck style. Button-up shirts were out, thanks to the boob gap in between buttons my shirts always ended up with. Trying to put together an outfit? Next to impossible, unless the store made an active effort to give fat people some semblance of a fashionable life. We didn’t all want to wear shapeless floral patterned designs with weird shoulder cutouts and ruffles.

  Granny led us to the junior section—“Kara baby, pick out some clothes for yourself and meet us over there when you’re done”—and then past the women, to the plus sizes.

  “This is beautiful.” Grann
y held up a floral maxi dress. “It’s long enough and the color complements your skin.”

  I ignored that “long enough” jab. Above the knee was the way to be in my book.

  “Do you want to try it on?”

  “Definitely not.” I took it from her, folding the hanger downward and holding it near my chin, tugging it around the waist. “It’ll fit. Do they have any more?” Summer maxi dresses: the holy savior of average-to-tall fat girls everywhere.

  “Mm-hmm. Look. See, I told you it was fine. Always thinking you know best. Listen to me when I tell you something.”

  The dresses had been a pure stroke of luck, which I took full advantage of, placing five of them in the cart. Blessings didn’t last—if I came back to get more, they’d probably all be gone.

  I convinced Granny to hold off on the bras but lost the pajama fight. She tried to buy a year’s worth of long sleep shirts, shorts, and socks.

  “A couple is fine. I don’t need all of these!”

  “You don’t like to do laundry.”

  “Kara does.” I shrugged. “I’ll just throw my stuff in with hers.”

  “Already treating me like your wife. I love it.” Kara returned, having found two pantsuits and several pairs of sunglasses. “It’s true, though. I love that kind of stuff. I can’t wait to put domestic technician on my resume to mess with people.”

  Nineteen

  My hands clenched into fists as I walked into the portrait studio. I had decided to wear a solid black dress à la Wednesday Addams and a silver sweater that looked good with my tiara, already sitting in its place of honor in front of my top bun.

  Shelley and Rush stood together next to a camera set up on a tripod. She was saying something about the lighting. He replied that whatever she wanted had to wait until I arrived, because my skin was darker than Dallas’s. He wanted us both to look good.

  Rush mentioning that, let alone caring about it, nearly stopped me in my tracks with surprise.

  For the shoot, silver tulle had been placed on the ground like mist against a matte dark blue background. “Floating” flower-filled orbs hung in the air like bubbles, and two podiums had been wrapped in fairy lights with the fishbowl brought back into action. Tacky in a way that somehow worked, it had Shelley written all over it.

  Dallas stood off to the side in his crown, arms crossed and waiting. He spotted me before the other two did. A relieved grin that part of me desperately wanted to trust brightened everything about him.

  “You’re late.” He frowned but the judgment slid from his face almost as soon as it appeared, smile returning.

  “Two minutes.”

  “Still late. You’re supposed to be on time for our Royal Engagements.”

  “I plead the Fashionable Fifth.”

  He stepped back, giving me a once-over. My face burned in embarrassment, throat locking up.

  “The court finds that plea acceptable. Very cute.”

  Cute. Cute was good. Cute was great. It was a considerable downgrade from beautiful, but I’d take it any day and say, Please, sir, can I have some more. I relaxed, tension leaving me like a charley horse cramp finally letting go.

  “Thanks. You too. I guess.”

  “You guess? Wow, okay. And here I thought I could impress you with my psychic powers.” He laughed, pointing from himself to me and back again. “Nobody told us to both wear black and silver. Behold my power.”

  “Oh.” I hadn’t even noticed, not really, not beyond my normal (irritating) reaction of thinking he looked good. His dress shirt and slacks had been ironed—the crisp creases would cut me if I touched him—and his silver tie had reflective threads woven into it, catching the light just right to make them shine. “You must promise to never use your aesthetic powers for evil.”

  “Eh, evil is relative. Power and perspective are what you really have to watch out for.”

  “Fair. I’m evil, though.”

  “I know. It’s why I like you.” He winked and a smile jumped out of me before I could catch it. “You try so, so hard to be good, but we both know you’re only going to succumb to the dark side.”

  “Finally. Someone gets me. I might cry.” My smile kicked into overdrive—the gummy one that showed off the overbite I refused to get fixed.

  “‘The darkest paths are best walked with a friend to hold the light.’ I read that somewhere.”

  “Kara’s my light. It’s dimming because she’s just as bad as I am, but we make it work.” Nothing about him changed when I mentioned Kara—no flinching or looking away or frowning.

  “Room for one more?” He held out his arm, gazing down at me with a soft, amused smile that turned my heart to mush.

  That smile would be the end of me. “If they’re special, sure.” I linked our arms together.

  “I’m psychic, so obviously I qualify.”

  “Obviously.” I laughed as he escorted me to the photo shoot setup. “How long have you been waiting?”

  “Longer than I would’ve liked,” he said, voice lowered. We were within earshot of Shelley and Rush now. “I hate it, but I still agreed to be here.”

  He knew what kind of over-the-top obligations came with the crown and had volunteered for them. And then doubled down on his decision by not letting Kara win.

  “Do you really?” I stared at him, hoping to read his body language for an unconscious clue.

  “Not because of you or anything.” His eyes widened as he spoke too fast.

  “I—that wasn’t where I was going with that.”

  “Winnie!” Shelley shouted. “I had no idea you arrived. Why didn’t you say something?” She beckoned us over as if we hadn’t already been walking toward her.

  With no preamble, Shelley maneuvered us into the middle of the scene and adjusted the floaters to look like a frame.

  “This shouldn’t take too long,” Rush said, face downturned as he fiddled with his camera settings. “We need a couple of shots for the website, the town hall, the newspaper, and a few promotional posters, and you’ll be free to go. I’m going to take some tests shots.”

  That seemed like … a lot.

  The flash popped and the lighting flickered a bit, making me jump. “Perfectly normal noises.” Rush used an odd tone, almost like he was counting down to zero with words instead of numbers. “Perfectly normal! Almost done and got it!” He grinned. “See, not too bad?”

  “Says you.” Standing still felt wrong. I needed to be moving, running, fleeing from that awful, awful place.

  Unlike Sam, I was not blessed with the gift of being photogenic. I’d learned how to smile in pictures by practicing in the mirror and how to pose from watching hours of old episodes of America’s Next Top Model. Cameras, and the people with social media accounts who wielded them, never caught me off guard. I’d made sure of it.

  But right then, I was too on edge to deploy my skills. I’d mess up, channeling deer in the headlights with beaver teeth and a shocking amount of human infant gums, a chimeric monstrosity that would forever be immortalized in the Haven Herald.

  And the worst part? I couldn’t make it stop.

  “Okay, kids,” Rush said. “Be natural. Stand close together and smile. Uh, Winnie, do you need a moment?”

  “I’m fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  I rolled my shoulders, taking a deep breath, trying to sink into a happy place and paste my Tyra-taught smile and smize on my face. I’d run right the hell on out of there if I had to. If I so much as sensed the familiar twinges of an oncoming panic attack, there’d be literal cartoon dust in my wake. They’d never catch me panicking on camera again.

  A few moments later, Shelley called, “Winnie, keep your head straight but turn your body toward Dallas.”

  That earned a side-eye from Rush, who said nothing but clearly didn’t like having a co-director. I tried to do as she asked. My cheeks had begun to hurt from holding my smile in place. It looked good in pictures but as far from natural as artificial sweeteners.

  Diet Winn
ie: calorie free and optimized for public consumption.

  “Like this?” Every inch of me felt tense, tightly coiled like a spring under too much pressure.

  “Perfect! Get the shot, Rush.” Several snaps later, Shelley called out, “Dallas, put your arm around her.”

  He reached—I flinched away from him like I was scared of being hit.

  His face didn’t betray anything other than a question I couldn’t interpret. He kept his stance open, arms at his side, as we looked at each other. I opened my mouth, inhaled, and knew if I tried to talk only garbled word-goop would come out. I wanted to tell him that it wasn’t him. If anyone had tried to touch me right then, I would have had the same instinctive reaction. I stretched my eyes wide, trying to keep my tears at bay, willing him to understand. Why did my words always abandon me like this when I needed them most?

  “Go on, Dallas,” Shelley urged, oblivious.

  “No.” He turned away from me.

  “Oh, please? It’ll look adorable. You’ll thank me later.”

  Dallas huffed through his nose, mouth set in a grim line. That was the most irritated I’d ever seen him. “I seriously doubt it.”

  “Woman! Please! I’m trying to work.” Rush placed his hands on his hips, face turning red. “Winnie doesn’t want him to touch her.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Of course she does.” Shelley’s matter-of-fact tone made me want to die. “They’re already together. Everyone saw them the other day.”

  “No, we’re not.” Dallas sounded appalled. “Did you get pictures you could use?”

  Was it possible to die twice? Sign me up.

  Rush sighed, straightening up. “We’ll have to make do.” He cast a harsh glance at Shelley. “The mood’s ruined now.”

  “Let’s get out of here.” Dallas didn’t touch me—his hand hovered near my elbow instead.

  Shelley called for us to wait.

  “Don’t.” He moved behind me when I looked back.

  I nodded, concentrating on moving one foot after the other as we exited the studio.

  Twenty

  I hated thinking about things that I had no control over.