If It Makes You Happy Page 17

  After they were in the car, pulling out of the parking lot, Kara said, “I love the smell of unfair treatment in the afternoon.”

  “I think that went well.” Of course Sam did. Of course. “You guys didn’t fight or anything.”

  “But they didn’t talk either. Not a hello or a good-bye.” Kara hugged me at the waist, staring up at me. “I think it’s time for a karaoke party.”

  Granny knew I touched her precious radio and changed the music on a daily basis. She probably still didn’t know about the karaoke parties. I turned the music up super loud and worked the floor like I was in the middle of a number from a Broadway musical—lip-syncing and using the song’s original choreography—while still doing my job. Customers loved it. Everyone on shift sans Aaron usually joined in.

  I had gotten the idea from that diner in New York where all the staff sings. At best, I could warble on key but I had the singing spirit. One day, maybe, when I owned my own diner, it’d probably have a theme built around my karaoke parties.

  “Or not.” Sam’s eyes widened. “Or really, really not. She’s already mad, and if someone tells her—”

  “It’ll be fine.” Kara waved her away. “We should have time for one song, right? Yes or yes?”

  I grinned down at her. “Yes.”

  * * *

  In about six hours, I would intensely regret watching movies instead of taking a nap. Sam, Kara, Winston, and I lay around the living room after dinner. I had stood up, ready to pass out, but then Kara made puppy-dog eyes at me.

  I was trash for Kara’s puppy-dog eyes and pouty lips. Even when I wasn’t sure what would become of us.

  Granny came home when the movie was about half over. She took one look at us, laughed affectionately, and then went to bed. She never joined us. When I tried to convince Kara to keep the party going and hang out with me during my shift, she ditched me.

  “I love you, but I also love not being grounded because I didn’t tell my parents I was here. Rain check?”

  So I ended up alone with a running day staring me down in five hours.

  Why did I volunteer to do this again?

  I knew I was strong, conditioned to handle more than most, but times like these I felt stretched too thin. Shifts to work, people to please, silent-treatment wars to fight, crowns to uphold, laps to jog, ungirlfriend relationships to rebuild—

  And for the record, I’d like to point out that the Starlight competition would not have been too much. Apart from shopping and experimenting with different recipes, Kara hadn’t done jack else for that contest.

  My phone buzzed. An unknown number appeared on the screen. I’d sooner poke myself in the eyes than voluntarily answer my phone if I didn’t know who it was, but it had a Haven Central area code.

  “Um, hello?”

  “Hi.”

  Hearing his voice made my heart stutter. “Hi.” I tried to clear away the squeak that I’d suddenly developed, to say something else. He beat me to it.

  “Is this a bad time? Or too late? I figured you might be working.”

  Oh my God. He didn’t do that thing when the caller asked for you even though they recognized your voice. Or said their name even though you knew it was them thanks to caller ID.

  “No, no, it’s fine. Guess you weren’t kidding about that no texting thing, huh?”

  “I could try. This feels more comfortable for me. Is it okay?” Dallas’s phone voice had quickly scaled the mountain of my favorite sounds. Less than a mile below Kara on the phone now. “Also, I kind of wanted to hear your voice.”

  I giggled. Giggled. Jesus, just take me out to pasture. “Uh, sorry. Aaron just made a face at me as he was leaving. Hold on.” I was so alone in the empty diner, I could make it echo if I wanted. I pretended to place him on mute and waited ten seconds to regain my dignity. “So. Hi.”

  He laughed. “So. You’re at work.”

  “I am.”

  “I was going to visit instead of calling. Coincidentally, I also kind of missed your face, but I didn’t know if you worked every night or not.”

  “Um, is there a reason why you keep saying stuff like that?”

  “It’s not okay to say I missed you?”

  “It is. It’s just—I don’t know. It’s fine. I’m being weird.”

  “I won’t say it if it makes you uncomfortable.”

  “No, it’s fine. Friends can totally miss friends and tell them so.”

  “Cool.” He exhaled loud enough for me to hear it. “Anyway, I also called because we didn’t go over our Royal Engagement schedule. I wanted to show it to you, but you were upset and that seemed more important.”

  “Only the tiniest bit.”

  “I’ll send the calendar to you. We’re supposed to make a sincere effort. Sincere effort. Shelley said that like five times. Pretty sure if we don’t show up in our crowns, she’ll hunt us down like Liam Neeson in one of his movies, and drag us there kicking and screaming.”

  My phone beeped in my ear. Incoming message. I placed him on speakerphone to open the file. “Whoa.” The PDF calendar had all the activities each town would have for the next two months laid out in color-coordinated glory. “Have Fun With Your Phone? What the hell even is that? I’m not going to that.”

  “It’s not set in stone. If one of us has to work or something important comes up, we don’t have to go to the event. When do you work? Do you cook at Goldeen’s?”

  “No, that’s Winston. He lives in the kitchen. I work the floor, so anything before noon is out for me. I also work a couple of hours at midnight, like now, six days a week, and I like to take a nap at some point during the day. My deliveries are flexible. JR could always take them for me. You?”

  “Tutoring in the morning. That’s my only actual obligation.”

  “You’re a tutor?” I wished I could have hidden how shocked I had sounded.

  “Yep. Math.”

  During his silence, I got the distinct feeling that my reaction was all too common. “Is it a volunteer thing? Something to make your college apps look better and then you got stuck doing it?”

  “No. They pay me. I don’t work for free.”

  My surprised bark-laugh did indeed echo in the diner.

  “Any conflicts with the schedule for tomorrow?”

  I checked. “Don’t think so.”

  “See you then?”

  “Yep. With crowns on. Yeah, that pun didn’t work.”

  He laughed. “Or I could see you now. Up for company?”

  “You don’t have to. I mean, if you want to you can. But you don’t have to.”

  The line went silent. I held my breath to hear better, which was kind of ridiculous, and yet.

  “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

  Twenty-Five

  Five. Five. Five.

  Walk. Jog. Walk.

  There was a pizza slogan somewhere in there. Whoever had made the running program must have had a sense of humor.

  And was also a probable sadist, because my legs hurt something fierce.

  Every time I squatted to get something out of the fridge, freezer, lower shelves, I had zero idea if I’d be able to stand back up until I did it. Sam’s plan should have come with warnings.

  Stretching before probably won’t help you.

  Surprise! Your knee is going to pop!

  The floor is gonna be your new bff:)

  “Winnie, what are you doing in here?” Granny asked.

  In one heaving move, I pulled myself to an upright position and stretched my lips into what I hoped was a smile to hide all of the internal screaming going on.

  “I’ve been sent to retrieve beets—nature’s dirt candy.” Nothing against beets, but they really did taste like sweetened dirt.

  “I want you in the kitchen. Winston is demanding a turn to cook on his own without Aaron, so I want you to watch him. He gets one hour alone. Not a second more, you hear me?”

  “Where’s Aaron going to be?”

  “Home, I presume. He thinks
Winston can handle it.”

  “And you don’t?”

  She gave me a withering look. “He’s still fourteen.”

  Right. Never mind the fact that when I was fourteen, I could do every single job this diner had to offer blindfolded.

  “I’ll watch him.”

  “Thank you.” She adjusted her purse on her arm. “I’m off. The girls and I are gonna head up to the outlets. Maybe check out that new seafood restaurant while we’re up there.”

  Even while on an unofficial staycation, Granny always kept an eye on the competition.

  I collected my beets into green grocer bags for easier transport and dumped them on the prep table before dragging a stool over to sit on. “Yello, little brother.” Sitting down, I rested my chin in my hands.

  “I don’t need to be watched.” He kept his back to me as he flipped five of the sizzling burgers on the grill. As always with hamburgers, the kitchen began to fill with smoke from the grease popping in the fire. Goldeen’s didn’t microwave or fry them on a stove top. It had taken an Act of Aaron to finally get Granny to agree to switch from charcoal to propane earlier in the year.

  “I’m not watching. I’m here for reinforcements if a large order comes through.”

  He glared at me over his shoulder. “I’m shocked she even asked you.”

  I shrugged. “Time was up.” If the silent treatment didn’t escalate within a certain time frame, let’s say under seventy-two hours, by either me apologizing or doing something worse, her grudge weakened. She might not talk to me right away, like today, but she’d get around to it.

  Goldeen’s had transitioned from passing paper tickets through the kitchen window to digital orders two summers ago. I had spearheaded the project. The servers entered the orders on one of two tablets behind the counter. Winston received them on one screen and marked them as up on another through the kitchen tablets. He favored using his pinky for the screens, which was just too adorable.

  “When were you going to tell me you liked cooking?”

  He moved seamlessly through the kitchen, from the window to the screen to the cooking area. “Later, I guess.”

  “Is it something you like to do for fun or is it more serious than that?”

  “Why?”

  “Just asking. I always thought you’d go into film and someday we would make Win-Win Productions. That’s all.”

  That earned me a rare smile. “We still can. We don’t have to do just one thing.”

  “Very true.”

  He placed each cooked burger on their respective plates, carefully and efficiently piling the chosen toppings into a picturesque tower. “Now, that’s a burger.”

  I laughed. “Don’t let Aaron hear you.”

  He sucked on his teeth. “Two years. Two years and I’ll be better than him. Watch.”

  “I believe it.”

  It should have been boring watching him. I should have started to nod off, neck bending forward when I lost the fight against consciousness and gravity, eyes drifting closed because I was honest-to-God exhausted. Watching my brother cook was anything but that.

  Music played softly and he hummed along to it. He stayed focused and mindful of his hands and cross contamination. The fries were golden and crunchy, never charred and ready to poof into dust; his salads looked like works of art with the food placed in spiraled designs and layered just right; his eggs were fluffy and his milkshakes were the perfect consistency. All of his dishes turned out precise and preternaturally perfect.

  If Kara was a mad scientist in the kitchen, then Winston was a brain surgeon. Two sides of the same coin, Dr. Winston Jekyll and Ms. Kara Hyde.

  Aaron arrived exactly sixty minutes after he had left. He tried to hide the worried look on his face as he darted through the door, but I saw it. “Everything all right?”

  “He did great. You should leave him alone more often.”

  Another smile from Winston. He briefed Aaron on what he’d done, where he stopped, and then switched places with him for a break.

  “Hungry? I’ll make you a sandwich.” We headed up the stairs together, Winston trailing behind me.

  “Sure.” He paused. “Would you really go into business with me?”

  “The fact that you even have to ask that insults me.”

  Once in the kitchen, he sat at the table while I got started making his lunch.

  “I guess I thought you’d leave me behind once you left for college.”

  “What made you think a stupid thing like that?”

  “Sam. She said you were gonna leave her first then me. I know it’s stupid—stop looking at me like that. You’re gonna be busy with school and working and Kara, and it made sense that you wouldn’t have time for me anymore because you’ll be so far away.”

  “You both are ridiculous. My life is like that now. Have I ever left you behind? Excluded you from anything I do?”

  “No.” He shook his head, tapping the table with his thumb. “I’m sorry I got mad about the Starlight contest. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I should have.”

  “There’ll be other contests, but in the meantime, want to help me help Kara for this one? I’m sure she’d be willing to share some of her expertise with you.”

  “You think so? I’ve been thinking about asking her to teach me some stuff.”

  “Winston, if you did that, it would make her whole life.”

  “Are you guys okay? It seemed kind of tense between you the other day.”

  “We’re fine.” I set the plate down and he gave me a disbelieving look. “We’re working on being okay.”

  “Is it because of that guy?”

  “Dallas.”

  “That guy.”

  I laughed. “Don’t be like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “You know. He’s nice. I think you’d like him. Chips?” I held up the bag.

  “Yeah. I don’t like anyone. Especially not someone you’re supposed to marry.”

  “I am not marrying Dallas!” I flicked him before taking the seat next to him. “And no, it’s not because of him. It’s just something that we have to work through right now. That’s all.”

  * * *

  This speaking in front of a large crowd thing was getting super old superfast. Once again, Dallas took the lead, this time partially standing in front of me as he introduced the first act for the Haven Central Day Camp Talent Show: Margo and her puppy-lion, Foster!

  Summer Saturday nights were not meant to be spent doing this. I had invited Kara to come along, a first step toward building a bridge between her and Dallas so I could stop flailing alone in the water. She had turned me down when I told her it was a talent show.

  “Ehhhh, that’s not my scene. Rain check?”

  Rain check had potential. Rain check meant the answer wasn’t no, just later. I fully planned to cash that sucker in soon.

  The packed auditorium began to smell a bit too ripe to my nose and ultrasensitive stomach once they closed the doors. Parents had their cameras out. Siblings pouted in their seats. The judges, stationed in the front row, had their clipboards and scoring sheets at the ready. And the event was scheduled to last three hours. We had to stay for the whole thing to host it.

  We walked offstage and away from the many eyes watching us, but my lungs wouldn’t loosen. My palms tingled something awful, too.

  “I really don’t like this. Why couldn’t we have something like knitting club scheduled?”

  “We do. Next week.”

  “Oh Jesus.” I wiped my damp hand across my damp forehead and leaned against the wall, bending as far as I could at the knee before my thighs started to protest. Running in the morning was wreaking havoc on my body. Muscles I didn’t even know existed had woken up screaming bloody murder.

  “What’s going on? Talk to me.”

  I squinted up at him. “This is as close as I can get to placing my head between my knees. It helps. Somewhat.”

  He frowned for a moment before looking horrifie
d. “Oh. I’ll get some water.”

  The next time I opened my eyes, he knelt next to me, face inches from mine. The perfect kissing distance at the absolute worst moment. “Is your stage fright really that bad?”

  I took the water bottle he offered. “On occasion.”

  “You seemed fine at the wine tasting.”

  “Rage will do that.” I either had to go up or down—my thigh muscles wouldn’t last much longer. The floor looked clean enough, so I sat, legs tucked to the side, and kept my back flush with the wall. Dallas sat next to me, still close and attentive, as if I would pass out any second. “I don’t do well with the whole being the center of attention thing if I’m not allegedly yelling. My fight-or-flight response is always turned up to eleven. There is no middle ground with me.” I frowned at him. “It hurt to admit that. I’m not doing it again.”

  “Doing what? Telling the truth?”

  “Exposing myself. It’s gross.”

  “I told you, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” He must have had a rare gene that turned sincerity into a pheromone. It practically came out of his pores every time he looked at me like that—eyes a combination of amused and understanding. “Just be up front. ‘Hey, Dallas. I’m uncomfortable. Can we not?’ Simple.”

  “And you won’t ask questions?”

  “Maybe one or two. ‘Hey, Dallas. I can’t tell you what’s going on. Please help me.’ I’m pretty easygoing.” His shoulders touched his ears as he held on to an unreleased shrug, a smile tugging at his lips. “And, you know, I like you. So.”

  Margo and her amazing puppy-lion had finished their act. The crowd cheered as she bowed.

  Dallas squeezed my hand. “Stay here for the next one. I have a surprise for you. I was going to give it to you later but I think it might make you feel better now.”

  He high-fived Margo, told another joke to the crowd, and introduced the next act: the Lamb Boys, who had decided to form a prepubescent lip-syncing boy band. I watched them, fairly positive they’d win this whole charade because the dancing was rather impressive—I recognized my fellow YouTube University alums when they crossed my path—while Dallas ran off to get his surprise.