Doesn’t matter if they’re stupid or random, just list things that make you happy.”
I opened my eyes. “What’s the point of this?”
“The point is to figure out where to start. Try again. Close your eyes and tell me what makes you happy.”
I closed my eyes and my mind was blank. I couldn’t think of a thing that made me happy except for the fact that he was holding my hand, but you could stick a spoon in my eyes before I was going to admit that. “I don’t know,” I said.
“Don’t give up. Just think about what kinds of things make you happy.”
“Office supplies,” I spit out. My eyes flew open. “That sounds stupid. I don’t know why I said that.”
“No it doesn’t. Close ’em again. You like new notebooks, Post-it Notes . . .” His voice trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the next word.
“I like how expensive paper feels. And pens. I like those Sharpie markers that come in different colors.” Things started to rush into my head. “I like the sound of waves on a beach and how clothes that dried outside in the sun smell. I like really salty popcorn, being inside during a thunderstorm, and wrapping presents. I like writing and telling stories, and the feel of dogs’ ears, how they’re sort of soft and silky.” My eyes opened again; did I actually just admit a love for rubbing dog ears? Brody was smiling. I pulled my hands back and took a drink of my water, the straw making a sucking sound as it pulled in the last of the water from around the crushed ice. “I guess it’s clear: After graduation I need to move to the beach and get a dog.”
“It’s a place to start.” Brody stood and gathered up our napkins. “You don’t have to know the destination, just where to begin. Starting with what makes you happy is never a bad place.”
“While the dog and beach plan has merit, I feel like what I need to do first is find my birth mom and get through the rest of senior year.” I pushed away the rest of my ice cream and stood so I could stretch.
“You know she’s not going to have all the answers.”
“She doesn’t need to have them all. It’s just a place to make a start.”
Brody laughed. “Now you’re stealing my best lines.”
“Why would I steal the crappy ones?”
Brody threw his arm around me. “Excellent point.”
I leaned into his side; the warm weight of his arm on my shoulders felt good. I glanced up, and standing outside the window, Shannon and Lydia were looking in, their mouths open.
chapter fourteen
I f there were awards for being persistent, then my friend Shannon would win one. There are people preparing for the Olympics or a moon landing who are less focused than her. As soon as we sat down with our trays in the cafeteria, she started back in again.
“It’s no big deal. I just didn’t know you guys were hanging out.”
“You knew Brody and I became partners for our senior project,” I said.
“It didn’t look like you guys were working on homework,” Shannon said under her breath.
“What did you guys decide to do as your project?” Lydia asked.
For some reason I didn’t want to tell them. It wasn’t that Ididn’t think they’d be supportive, but it seemed like something I wanted to keep between Brody and me. “We’re doing something on different family structures. Like how families should be defined.”
Shannon picked at her salad. Her fork chased a cherry tomato around the plate, trying to spear it.
“What’s the big deal, anyway? Brody’s nice,” I said. Shannon and Lydia exchanged a glance. I tossed my fork down on my tray. “Okay, seriously, guys, stop doing that. It makes me feel like you’re talking about me all the time.”
Lydia’s face scrunched up in an expression of concern. She’d make a great kindergarten teacher someday. “We’re not talking about you in a bad way. We’re worried about you.”
“Why? I’m fine.”
Shannon sniffed. “I wouldn’t call it fine.” She started ticking items off on
I opened my eyes. “What’s the point of this?”
“The point is to figure out where to start. Try again. Close your eyes and tell me what makes you happy.”
I closed my eyes and my mind was blank. I couldn’t think of a thing that made me happy except for the fact that he was holding my hand, but you could stick a spoon in my eyes before I was going to admit that. “I don’t know,” I said.
“Don’t give up. Just think about what kinds of things make you happy.”
“Office supplies,” I spit out. My eyes flew open. “That sounds stupid. I don’t know why I said that.”
“No it doesn’t. Close ’em again. You like new notebooks, Post-it Notes . . .” His voice trailed off, waiting for me to fill in the next word.
“I like how expensive paper feels. And pens. I like those Sharpie markers that come in different colors.” Things started to rush into my head. “I like the sound of waves on a beach and how clothes that dried outside in the sun smell. I like really salty popcorn, being inside during a thunderstorm, and wrapping presents. I like writing and telling stories, and the feel of dogs’ ears, how they’re sort of soft and silky.” My eyes opened again; did I actually just admit a love for rubbing dog ears? Brody was smiling. I pulled my hands back and took a drink of my water, the straw making a sucking sound as it pulled in the last of the water from around the crushed ice. “I guess it’s clear: After graduation I need to move to the beach and get a dog.”
“It’s a place to start.” Brody stood and gathered up our napkins. “You don’t have to know the destination, just where to begin. Starting with what makes you happy is never a bad place.”
“While the dog and beach plan has merit, I feel like what I need to do first is find my birth mom and get through the rest of senior year.” I pushed away the rest of my ice cream and stood so I could stretch.
“You know she’s not going to have all the answers.”
“She doesn’t need to have them all. It’s just a place to make a start.”
Brody laughed. “Now you’re stealing my best lines.”
“Why would I steal the crappy ones?”
Brody threw his arm around me. “Excellent point.”
I leaned into his side; the warm weight of his arm on my shoulders felt good. I glanced up, and standing outside the window, Shannon and Lydia were looking in, their mouths open.
chapter fourteen
I f there were awards for being persistent, then my friend Shannon would win one. There are people preparing for the Olympics or a moon landing who are less focused than her. As soon as we sat down with our trays in the cafeteria, she started back in again.
“It’s no big deal. I just didn’t know you guys were hanging out.”
“You knew Brody and I became partners for our senior project,” I said.
“It didn’t look like you guys were working on homework,” Shannon said under her breath.
“What did you guys decide to do as your project?” Lydia asked.
For some reason I didn’t want to tell them. It wasn’t that Ididn’t think they’d be supportive, but it seemed like something I wanted to keep between Brody and me. “We’re doing something on different family structures. Like how families should be defined.”
Shannon picked at her salad. Her fork chased a cherry tomato around the plate, trying to spear it.
“What’s the big deal, anyway? Brody’s nice,” I said. Shannon and Lydia exchanged a glance. I tossed my fork down on my tray. “Okay, seriously, guys, stop doing that. It makes me feel like you’re talking about me all the time.”
Lydia’s face scrunched up in an expression of concern. She’d make a great kindergarten teacher someday. “We’re not talking about you in a bad way. We’re worried about you.”
“Why? I’m fine.”
Shannon sniffed. “I wouldn’t call it fine.” She started ticking items off on
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