If It Makes You Happy Page 9

“Come on, Sam,” Kara said, climbing to her feet and then picking Malachi up. “I want ice cream.”

  Sam locked eyes with me—I nodded for her to go—and then followed Kara out of the room, closing the door.

  “What’s your malfunction?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  Arguing and prying, going back and forth until I browbeat the answer out of him, never worked on Winston.

  I sat on the bed next to him.

  And stared—still as stone, blank as a mannequin, unblinking as if he were a weeping angel.

  “Stop,” he said.

  I didn’t.

  I had figured out how to aggressively stare at someone after he made me watch a horror movie where the supernatural killer seemed to do the most boring thing of all time:

  Walk. Slowly. Everywhere.

  A full-on leisurely stroll that turned out to be surprisingly effective: four of the six teens got murdered, and not just in a convenient for the plot kind of way. I’d looked it up later and found out about persistence hunting. Doing the bare minimum to outlast your target worked. Using their own body chemistry against them made sense. I knew firsthand how staring could unnerve someone, so I only used my ability in dire situations.

  Side note: I wasn’t kidding about becoming a supervillain.

  Eventually, he’d get tired of me.

  Two minutes and counting …

  The longest he had lasted against me was five minutes. He’d break any second now …

  “Why did you have to go and ask her?” he exploded. “You don’t care! You don’t even cook!”

  “Ask her what? Who is her?”

  “Granny,” he fumed. “About the contest.”

  “Um.” Of all the things he could have possibly said, that didn’t rank on my list. “I thought it would be a good opportunity—”

  “For who? Granny doesn’t need your help. And again, you don’t cook, so why? Why would you even care?”

  “I thought I could lead it. You know, be the spokesperson and let Aaron do the cooking.”

  “You have a panic attack if someone even points a camera in your direction—”

  “No, I don’t!”

  “Yes. You. Do. But you thought you’d magically be able to talk in front of one?”

  “Fine! I’ll admit that was a tiny kink in my plan, but I would’ve gotten over it! I wanted to use the prize money to help Granny buy a new oven and get some good exposure for Goldeen’s. I can do certain things for other people.” I huffed, frowning. “So that’s why you’re mad? Because I don’t cook and I asked and oh”—I paused, sure that the answer had popped in my head, but I didn’t quite believe it—“you wanted to enter?”

  Winston had unofficially begun apprenticing under Aaron last summer. At home, I did kind of notice he’d been in the kitchen more with Dad. I’d thought it was like a bonding thing, like how I helped Mom with her garden in the backyard.

  “Dad said he would sign the form, but I still needed someone on-site to enter with me. I was going to ask Aaron because I can trust him, but since you asked, now he can’t,” he said. “Granny won’t let him help me, because she doesn’t want Goldeen’s to have anything to do with it, because she doesn’t want you to do it. If I ask her again, she’s going to think you’re making me do it so you can get your way.”

  Winston had planned to ask Granny on his own. And I ruined it.

  “Maybe—maybe we could talk to her again? I’ll promise to stay out of it.”

  “We? Oh, now you want to include me in my own plan. Thanks so much.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” The right thing to say wouldn’t fix the wrong done at all.

  “Whatever.” He rolled onto his side, away from me.

  Thirteen

  Damn it.

  Damn it damn it DAMN IT.

  I rubbed the heel of my hand into my eye. Stress wore me out. Feeling made me tired. If I could, I’d burrow under my super soft blankets and not come out again until college move-in day.

  Granny: upset, twitchy, and somehow able to make me feel like I’d done something wrong for being fat.

  Winston: also upset and surlier than normal at me.

  Sam: plotting and leaving me on constant high alert for a worst-case scenario Thing she wanted to do.

  Dallas: just him in general.

  Kara: so cute and supportive, as always.

  A perfect potion for sleeping the summer away.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late.” Layla, the day waitress, rushed behind the counter. She’d managed to subdue her massive amounts of curly hair into a messy yet perfect topknot. “Getting Calvin settled into day camp has been a nightmare.”

  She gave me a quick hug. The top of her head barely reached my shoulder and the smell of coconut suntan lotion covered every inch of her. Layla had the palest skin—the exact type the sun had a personal vendetta against.

  Ruder-than-average customers would ask her, “What are you? An albino?” To which Layla snapped in the only way that wouldn’t result in her getting fired, “I’m a human being. Would you like to hear about today’s specials?”

  Granny refused to budge on that customer is always right rule. We weren’t allowed to talk back to customers. Period.

  “He bite anyone this time?” I asked, untying the triple knot from my apron. I had the signature Woodson beanpole shape, too—no hips, no butt, just straight up and down—but the fat version, and my apron refused to stay put without some extra knotting measures.

  “Thank God, no.” Layla stashed her purse in the small locker under the counter. “All he did was cry and howl and kick and scream.”

  “He could always hang here. You know that.”

  “I do.” She smiled. “But he needs to be around kids, not truck drivers who teach him phrases like ‘let ’er drift’ and ‘scary as fuck.’”

  My cackle drew some curious stares from customers. I winked at them and waved.

  “I need a favor,” Layla said. “JR’s baby girl has whooping cough and an appointment with Dr. Skinner tomorrow. Mind putting in overtime in the kitchen?”

  JR had been Goldeen’s prestigious dishwasher for almost two years. Without him, business pretty much came to a standstill. No dishes, no glasses, no utensils? No service. He also helped with janitorial; prepped the big jobs for the cleaning crew, like draining the fryer when needed; and worked as the host during the dinner rush every now and again.

  “Sure. Is she okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah. They think it’s winding down, but the poor thing got banned from day care until it’s gone.”

  “We should send him something. If Aaron whips up some feel-good food magic, I can stop by with a parental care package.”

  “You are so sweet.”

  “Only when I want something. I figure I could trade the food for a future favor.”

  “Right. I forgot Opportunist is your middle name.”

  In the kitchen, Winston and Aaron cooked on opposite ends—one doing cold prep and the other at the stove. The walk-in refrigerator door had been propped open. I peeked around the wall to find Granny inside, reorganizing. We hadn’t really talked since Skinner. I had planned to lob an empty apology at her to smooth things over—it was just easier to deal with her that way—but that was before she’d called my parents.

  Traitor. Everyone knew that what happened in Haven Central, stayed in Haven Central.

  If it was bad anyway.

  “Cindy is sick so JR is out,” I told her. “I’m going to fill in for him.”

  She didn’t pause or stop or look up. She waved one hand dismissively at me, meaning, I heard you. Go on, now. I’m busy.

  Whatever.

  When I turned around, Winston stood staring at me from across the prep table. He shook his head, eyes cutting to the fridge and back to me. I shrugged and kept it moving toward the sink to start washing the dishes from the morning rush.

  “Don’t let her do that,” Winston whispered, towering over me. His grudges never lasted long. Cha
nces were good he was still mad about not being able to enter the Starlight competition, but saying it out loud, actively blaming me for what happened, made him feel better. I didn’t mind—I mean, technically, it was my fault. I’d find a way to make it up to him.

  I always wanted him to feel like he could come to me about anything, even if he just needed to blow off steam or cry without having to say anything about it. I’d heard him talk with his friends—those conversations could make a wrong turn and head straight into toxic masculinity in a terrifying heartbeat. I’d be damned if I ended up with a little brother chock-full of aggression and misogyny because no one would listen to him talk about his feelings.

  I grabbed the hose and blasted a pile of dishes with water to remove food bits. “Do what?”

  “Treat you like that,” he said. “Manipulate you.”

  Aaron had picked that exact moment to place a single spatula in the sink—his not-so-subtle pathway into eavesdropping.

  “She isn’t.”

  “You can’t see it because it’s happening to you,” Winston said, oblivious to Aaron’s intimidating presence. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Remember that.”

  “I don’t know. I might have gone too far this time.”

  “If she doesn’t like what you did, then she doesn’t like you, because you’ve always acted like that.”

  “Harsh.” After scraping the dishes that the water couldn’t get clean, I loaded the full tray into the dual washer-sanitizer.

  “It’s the truth. You don’t have to like someone to love them.” He looked over his shoulder at the refrigerator. “She thinks she can control you. But you’re not her clone and she hates that. It’s only going to get worse if you don’t stop her.”

  Aaron really wasn’t heading back to the stove. We could trust him. He wasn’t Granny’s spy or anything, but she did sign his paychecks.

  “You know, it’s really annoying when someone whose diapers I helped change tries to be all grown-up and give me advice.”

  “And you know I’m right.”

  Aaron walked away with a parting hmph. As if he agreed with Winston.

  Did I know that?

  Deep down, I think I did.

  There’d always been this fine line between disrespect and growing pains with me and Granny. I messed up a lot. Trying people’s patience was my unintentional theme song. But sometimes—sometimes, it really felt like she wanted me to be ten years old and wholeheartedly obedient forever.

  In Skinner’s office, she had physically pushed me toward the scale after I had said no. Focusing on Skinner had been easier than acknowledging what she did, too.

  Was still easier.

  “Sam said something the other day,” I said, kind of scared to ask. “Do you really only come here because of me?”

  “She talks too much.” Winston clicked his tongue, exhaling as a hiss. “I don’t hate it here or anything. I’d just rather stay home.”

  “Then why come?”

  “I go where you go.” He said it as if that’s all there was to it, but then added, “I really don’t like the way she treats you.”

  “Granny.”

  “Sam, too. I get why she’s like that, though. I don’t like it, but I get it. I have like the tiniest, microscopic shred of hope for her,” he said. “Anyway, it’s not like you come here just for Granny. I like Goldeen’s, too. I like Kara. It’s fine.”

  I leaned to the side until—oops!—I hugged him. “You’re a jerk and I love you.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” I promised him. “Eventually.”

  We could be in the middle of the Sibling War: Volume 1861, but if someone else did me dirty? Winston always had my back. “I’m the only one who gets to be an asshole to you,” he had told me once. “You got that? Me.”

  “Don’t swear,” I had said, smiling. “You’re eleven. Act like you got some sense.”

  UNKNOWN NUMBER

  Unknown Number: Hi, Winnie. It’s Shelley.

  Unknown Number: I’ve scheduled an appointment for you with Miss Jepson for your costume. The committee has decided on a tiebreaker:)

  Unknown Number: Please don’t be late!

  Kara (Kara Kara Kara Kara) Chameleon

  Kara: DID SHELLEY TEXT YOU

  Kara: She picked pearl diving on purpose!!!!

  Kara: I’m gonna murder her

  Winnie: IT’S PEARL DIVING!? She only told me about my costume appointment

  Kara: She asked me if I knew how to swim and like an absolute tourist I said yes I CANNOT BELIEVE

  Kara: I am so stressed HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WIN AGAINST THAT LONG-LIMBED BASTARD NOW

  Winnie: We’ll figure something out. I’m sorry.

  Winnie: Family dinner time. Text you in an hour

  Fourteen

  Back at home, my mom got just as angry as Granny did when I texted at the dinner table, so I was used to being cut off from Kara for about an hour per day. I put my phone in my pocket before sliding into my usual seat in between Sam and Winston at the small round dining table.

  However, unlike back at home, we didn’t have family dinner every night with Granny—only on Sundays.

  “How was your day?” Granny asked no one in particular, but I knew she wasn’t talking to me. Winston didn’t answer either.

  “One of my families, the Castillos, are on vacation this week, and I told anyone who asked that I filled those openings,” Sam said, saving the day. “I got to relax a little. Alone. With no kids.”

  Granny said, “You’re such a hard worker, just like your daddy. Always so busy running around. It’s good you can recognize when you need to rest.”

  “Resting is for the weak,” Winston muttered.

  “What was that?” Granny asked.

  “I said the sink has a leak. Downstairs. One of the pipes underneath it has a huge crack in it.”

  “JR is handling it,” Granny said. “I already know.”

  Silence descended around us again. Usually, our dinners had way more life to them. Me, cracking jokes. Granny, laughing. Winston and Sam, tormenting each other in plain sight. One more round for me: tactical diffusion.

  I set down my fork. “About the other day—”

  “So I have an idea,” Sam said at the same time as me, turning to Granny. “We were all sitting around talking and I had this great idea. I figured out how I can help.”

  Help? Help what? I didn’t remember anyone asking for help. Winston and I exchanged a look—he didn’t know what she was talking about either.

  “A lot of people don’t realize that health doesn’t necessarily equal weight loss. Even doctors sometimes,” Sam said. “Winnie is really fit. Dr. Skinner shouldn’t have said those things to her.”

  Oh no. Oh noooooo.

  “Is that right?” Granny said coolly.

  “Yes,” Sam said, enthusiastically nodding and turning to me. “Which is where I come in. You could go jogging with me in the mornings.”

  “No,” I said, easy as can be. Winston cough-laughed behind his hand.

  “And why not?” The first words Granny had said to me in days. Really?

  “Because I don’t like running.”

  Visions of me wheezing before succumbing to death by embarrassment danced like svelte sugar plum fairies in my head. I was not fit. I had never been athletic. My mile time in PE had always sucked. Every year.

  “Not running. Jogging,” Sam said.

  One day, I really would roll my eyes so hard they’d get stuck in the back of my head, fulfilling the prophecy told by Black elders everywhere.

  “I’m not training for anything right now, so we could do this plan I read about. It’s designed to help future baby runners get started over seven weeks.”

  “Nope. Baby runner, I am not.”

  “Oh, come on!” Sam said with complete earnestness. Murphy’s Law back at it again. “It’s a good idea. You might like it. And it could be our thing. Wink wink.”

  “Saying wink wink d
efeats the purpose. You just do it,” Winston said. “Oh, right. You can’t.”

  Sam couldn’t wink. When she tried, both eyes always closed.

  “I’ll think about it.” Whenever my dad said that, the answer was no. He needed a cover sentence to buy himself some time and me some perspective. Sam wasn’t going to let it go today, but she might another day.

  “Well, I think it’s a great idea,” Granny said, eyes locked on mine. “You should go.”

  “Oh, I see,” I said. “I’m too busy to help Winston enter the Starlight competition, but I have just enough free time to go running every morning. Cool. Got it. Makes total sense.”

  “Jogging,” Sam said quietly.

  “You’ve had a bad attitude since you got here and I’m tired of it,” Granny said. “If my rules are such a problem for you, why do you even come?”

  “So that’s a rule now, too? Go jogging with Sam because you say so? Even though I said I hate it?”

  “How do you know you hate something if you’ve never tried it?”

  “I’m not even going to point out how flawed that question is. Really? That’s your argument?”

  “It was just a suggestion.” Sam’s wide eyes had already filled with tears. “Please don’t fight.”

  “We’re not fighting.” Granny placed a hand on Sam’s wrist. “I don’t fight with children.”

  The first shot. My age. Every time. I could be in my fifties and going through menopause while supporting my three kids in college, and she’d still find a way to call me a child.

  She continued, “Every time someone tries to help you, you always act like this.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  “No, you think you don’t need help, which you can’t know because you never listen. In one ear and out the other with you. What’s it gonna hurt for you to go with your cousin, huh? Keep her company, keep her safe while she’s out there by herself so early in the morning. She wants you to go with her, but all you can think about is yourself.”

  Winston said, “Told you so,” while pushing the food around his plate.

  “Told who what?” Granny asked.

  He kept silent, but gave me a quick glare out of the corner of his eye. Don’t do it, the glare said.