“It stinks.”
“Sometimes you—”
“Yes,” I whisper.
Seth exhales a puffy breath of air. “You still worry, don’t you? About today. That it will take you like it did your mother.”
I am caught off guard by his bluntness. I’ve never spoken it aloud, fearing that saying it might make it true, but he’s right. “I used to be terrified,” I finally admit. “In fact I hardly breathed on my birthdays, so Mr. Gardian let all my teachers and counselors know that my birthday was not to be mentioned or celebrate
d because it would send me into such a downward spiral.”
I smile, realizing how far I have come. “Last year Mr. Gardian actually tested the waters and sent me a birthday card, and it didn’t send me into a complete catatonic state. I suppose that’s another sign of acceptance or getting better. Maybe I’ve just finally accepted that I don’t know why things happen the way they do. Sometimes it seems there’s pattern and purpose, and other times it’s all sheer chaos, and I suppose the day I die could fall into either category.” I lean back and cross my legs. “But whatever it is, chaos or design, it’s the only game in town, right? It’s not like we have a choice. Take the mixed bag or take nothing at all. And I’m tired of taking nothing at all.”
“It’s a lot like a bowl of mixed nuts, don’t you think?” Mira says. “I hate the cashews, but I eat them to be polite. It would be wrong to pick through and just take the best nuts.”
Best nuts? We stare silently at Mira. She blushes.
“I’m sorry. That’s a terrible analogy. It’s not like you could choose the, well, you know, everything.” She looks down at her lap.
Seth laughs and throws a handful of hay at Mira. “It’s as good an analogy as any, Mira. And I think a nuts analogy is especially apropos for Des.”
Mira’s face shoots up, her eyes wide. Aidan follows suit, staring at Seth, his mouth open, speechless. I look at Seth too, his eyes just the opposite of theirs, narrowing slightly. Smooth. Like a grin. Pushing me. Like I am a normal person.
The silence and tension grow to comical proportions, and I finally grab two handfuls of hay and throw them at Seth, shattering the strained silence. Laughter sputters from my throat, and Mira joins me, laughing and throwing hay too, and soon we are all laughing, hay in our laps, hay in our hair, hay raining down handful after handful. We hold our stomachs, gulping for breath, laughing beyond reason, laughing at the absurdities of ourselves and life.
And then Seth nudges my foot with his, like a private nod from him to me, a small action the others don’t notice, and for a moment I feel intoxicated, connected and belonging to this world like I have never felt before.
Our laughter quiets. Mira wipes her eyes. Aidan blows his nose.
And I do something bold, something I’ve never done. I nudge Seth’s foot back and mouth, Thank you. His eyes crease slightly and his head barely moves, the smallest up-and-down motion.
“This was the best day ever,” Mira says, wiggling her red platform pumps in front of her. “Seth got his dog, Aidan talked to the president, and Des finally got to say good-bye, but I think right now is the best part of the whole day.” Mira’s face is a picture of contentment. We are nestled together on a bed of hay, a tight circle, where secrets and distance have been patted away, no wrinkles for Mira to worry over, no innuendo, no harsh voices or tense glances to be averted. Just the moment and her flashy platform pumps wiggling like everything is right with the world.
And maybe for this one moment, it is.
37
IT IS TIME TO RETURN to Hedgebrook. No one has yet stated the obvious.
We are doomed. At least I am.
It has been the fair day I wished for, but the day is not over. If the snipped ponytail wasn’t enough, the appropriated car and corrupting of three formerly model students will certainly have me shipped off by morning, this time quite possibly to a place with striped uniforms. And the irony is, now for once, I desperately want to stay. I have a reason to stay. But I know a day like today can’t last forever. Even I am not that delusional.
I hold Lucky while Aidan and Seth pull up the leather top of the car. Mira supervises, pointing out the levers to secure it.
“There!” Seth says, pushing down the last clamp. “That should make it a little warmer.” We are all shivering now. Late October is no time to be outside at night and coatless.
“Our jackets!” Mira says. “Let’s get them out of the trunk.”
Hedgebrook and our jackets seem a lifetime away. I had forgotten them, but the boring navy blazers are welcome now. We huddle near the trunk while Seth opens it. A small bulb illuminates the inside and Seth pulls out the bag from Babs’s store that holds our clothes and dispenses the jackets. We eagerly put them on. He points to the back of the trunk at a large cardboard box. “I wonder what’s in it? I saw it this morning, but that was when I thought this was your car.”
“Maybe there’s food? Cookies or something,” Aidan says hopefully.
“Should we peek?” Mira asks.
“Stealing a few cookies won’t add much to our problems at this point,” Seth says. He reaches in and slides it toward us. The top flaps are interlocked, and when Seth pulls on one, they all pop up. He peers in and lifts some tissue. “No cookies. Not even close.”
Mira nudges him aside and looks in too. “Dolls?” She reaches in and pulls one out.