Reasons to Be Happy Part 18

"I wish I'd called you," I said. "I even thought about it, but...but I think I waited too long. To, you know, ask for help. It was too late."

He smoothed my hair. "I've been there. You'll do better next time. You'll be stronger."

Next time? Oh G.o.d, I didn't want there to be a next time.

I thought about my horrible day. Okay...there might be a next time. But the binge that day had been the first in a long time. Maybe the next one-if it happened at all-would be a longer time still. I'd learn each time, get stronger, get new strategies.

"What made the day so hard?" Dad asked. "Do you know what triggered the binge?"

Once I started, with the B-squad and Kevin and Jasper, I couldn't stop. Talk about a purge! I talked on and on, filling him in on the start at the new school and everything in between.

A few times Dad bristled and his eyes blazed, but he never interrupted me. When I finally came to a halt, and said, "I really liked Jasper. I thought he liked me too. I thought that he was different, but maybe he's as big a jerk as Kevin. Just in a different way."

Dad exhaled and said, "This Kevin you talk about, do I know him? Kevin who?"

"Yeah, you know him," I said, barely hearing my own voice. "You work with him."

"Kevin Sampson?! I'll kill him. Why didn't you tell me this?"

It was too hard to explain. Would it hurt Dad too much to know that I honestly thought he'd believe Kevin, not me? I sighed. "I wasn't really thinking very rationally you know."

His shoulders slumped. "I do know," he said. "I know too well."

"You're not really going to kill him are you?"

Dad narrowed his eyes. "No. I won't kill him. But only because-"

I waited. When he didn't finish, I said, "What?"

"Only because I don't want to go back to jail," he admitted.

I threw my head back on the ugly green cot and laughed. It felt so, so good, even on my trashed throat.

Africa had been a distraction, not a cure. It was silly of me to think the struggle was over.

But I wanted it to be.

That was a new twist on this old, boring story.

Dad smiled and stroked my hair. "We're going to be all right, aren't we?"

I nodded. "I think we really are."

Although we arrived at the Academy Awards in the same limo and would be seated together, Dad and I had to part from Izzy and Modesta for the red carpet gauntlet. We answered inane questions about our clothes and about Mom. "How does it feel to be here without her?"

What kind of moronic question is that? I wanted to scream. How do you think it feels?

"She's here in spirit," Dad would say each time.

I'd been coached for all this, just as Dad had prepared to be asked about the compet.i.tion (he was up against his best friend, Sean, which the reporters loved).

When we finally got inside, we found our seats with Izzy and Modesta, the rest of the doc.u.mentary team in the row behind us.

I was so proud of my friend sitting beside me. Although I found lots of the awards ceremony pretty boring, she seemed enthralled. We probably had four hours ahead of us to go, but I already wished I was at Jasper's house, in jeans instead of all dolled up.

Oh, that's right. Jasper. I told you how we almost blew it, but I didn't tell you how we fixed it. After that horrible first day back at school, after I'd relapsed, then pa.s.sed out in the bathroom, Jasper showed up at my house.

I'd been out in the backyard. Dad was inside with Sean and Laila. I could've helped with dinner, but I felt fidgety. I dug around in the garage and unearthed a board about the size of a cookie sheet. I gathered my African supplies, found a bucket and mixed up the clay. I sat in the backyard-under the lemon tree-in dirt that was brown, not red, with no monkeys waiting to rob me. Instead of palm oil and cook fires, the air smelled of eucalyptus. I began to build another African market scene.

I got lost in it. So lost, the time slipped by again.

So lost, I didn't hear the back gate open.

So lost, I jumped big time when Jasper said, "Hey, Hannah," from right behind me.

"Whoa," he said. "I didn't mean to scare you. Your dad told me to put my bike back here."

I scrambled to my feet after crouching too long, so dizziness slammed me for the second time that day. I put out my hands, and Jasper caught me in a sort of rescue hug. "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah," I said, blinking hard to bring the backyard back into sight.

The yard righted itself.

"I came to see if you were all right," Jasper said.

We stood, holding each other's hands as if we were about to dance.

I pulled away, confused. I found my voice, but it was thin and shaky. "I don't get it. If you care enough to come over and see if I'm okay, why wouldn't you talk to me this morning?"

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "You really hurt my feelings, Hannah," he said.

"I hurt your feelings?" I asked. "How?"

"Oh, come on. You said you only wanted to see me when the B-Squad wasn't around. How do you think that made me feel?"

The yard slanted. "What? When did I say that?"

"In your email on Sat.u.r.day."

I thought back. I hadn't said that, had I? I tried to remember my wording. I closed my eyes. When I opened them, the yard slanted back to how it was supposed to be. This was fixable.

"Jasper, that's not what I meant at all. At all. I can see how you might've thought that, based on what I said. I typed it so fast, and I was kind of nervous. But, really, I just didn't want to wait until Monday. I wanted to see you as soon as I could."

He stood there, absorbing this. He took his time, just like he did in cla.s.s. He tossed his hair out of his eyes. "Why were you nervous?"

Truth just kept spilling out of my mouth. "I was nervous because I really like you, Jasper, and I didn't want to make an idiot of myself if you didn't like me back."

"How could you think I didn't like you, based on our emails?"

"That's what I thought, but then this morning, I was so...oh my G.o.d, I was...crushed."

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I am too. But how could you think I didn't want to be seen with you based on my emails?"

He unfurled his grin. "I was nervous."

"Why were you nervous?"

He tossed his hair out of his eyes. "Because I really like you Hannah. I was scared to believe you liked me back."

I thought I might levitate.

He hugged me. For real this time.

The top of my head fit just under his chin. I closed my eyes. He smelled so good.

"Wow," he said when he ended the embrace. He looked down at the miniature market I'd been making.

We pulled apart, but he kept hold of one of my hands. My cheeks blazed. I wondered if Dad, Sean, and Laila were watching.

"This is amazing," Jasper said, real admiration in his voice.

He sat down cross-legged in the dry gra.s.s to look closer, his nose inches from the clay, beads, and aluminum. "You are so talented."

I laughed.

"And you look so...beautiful."

I stubbed my toe in the dirt. "Well, you know, a little visit to the third world can help you lose weight."

He looked baffled. "I'm not talking about weight. I'm talking about your face. Your...glow."

I didn't know what to do with my hands. He looked at me as intently as he had the market.

"It's the first thing I noticed this morning," he said. "You look...transformed."

I touched the bra.s.s figure on my breast bone. "I am transformed."

What I loved about Jasper is that he didn't take it as a joke. He nodded.

I sat down on the gra.s.s beside him. "I feel like the real me is back. The authentic me. I'm...happy. I haven't been happy for a long time." I couldn't think of a single other person my own age that I could share this with.

"Authenticity and happiness are the best beauty products out there."

He touched my cheek. I felt dizzy all over again. I put my hand over his and then held it. "Your emails meant so much to me," I said. "I was having a really hard time."

"I think that's probably an understatement."

That golden triangle hypnotized me.

"I don't just mean my mom"-G.o.d, I couldn't even say it. Would that ever get easier?-"or my dad getting arrested. I was having a hard time before that. Those things"-things seemed the wrong word. Could you call your mother dying a "thing"?-"just made it worse, but like I told you, I have some issues."

Don't tell him! What are you doing?

"I could kinda tell, Hannah." His forehead scrunched up. "What happened today?"

I wanted to shrink and hide inside my miniature market. "I owe you an explanation of..."

He shook his head. "You don't owe me anything, Hannah."

"I want to be honest. You're always so real and honest."

"Well, okay," he said. "But don't tell me if you're not ready. It doesn't have to be today."

Don't tell him! He just gave you permission not to tell him!

I kept hold of his hand. I looked down at his hand and held it in both of mine, tracing those graceful fingers with my own. Then, I stepped off the cliff. "I have Bulimia."

Falling, falling, flailing in horrible free fall. I'd shatter on the rocks below, everything disgusting and revolting splattering out of me. This sweet, nice boy would find an excuse to leave.

I looked up at Jasper's face...and the free fall stopped. His face was still open and kind.

Not disgusted.

Not revolted.

Maybe a little sad. That's all.

I exhaled.

He squeezed my hand. "How'd that feel?"

"Terrifying," I admitted. I looked only at his hand when I asked, "You don't think it's gross?"

"Well...yeah, bulimia is pretty gross."

I stiffened.

"But you aren't gross, Hannah. There's a big difference."

He was right. Bulimia was gross. I marveled again that I'd missed how amazing he was when I'd first met him.

He took my hand and turned it palm down to rub that blister mark he'd noticed all that time ago. It was fainter, lots fainter, but still there. It had taken a while to build it up, so no doubt it would take a while to fade away.