I Wish You All the Best(37)

“Yeah, top to bottom, then we paint the gold stars.”

“Fun.” I let the brush roll onto the wood. “So how did the quiz go?”

He scoffs. “Which one?”

“You had two today?”

“Yup.”

“Oh, bless your heart,” I say. “How did Algebra go?”

Stephanie shouts something into her megaphone again. Thankfully it’s not directed at us, but it’s enough to make the two of us jump. Nathan just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

His smile gives him away. “Passed. At least, I think I did.”

“Nice,” I say.

“The test was easier than I thought. I triple-checked everything too, and it came out the same almost the whole test!”

“I told you that you could do it.”

“Boys! You aren’t painting!” Stephanie’s voice echoes through the megaphone again.

“Yeah, yeah.” Nathan waves her off.

“So stop flirting and paint!” she yells.

I feel my face get hot and I turn forward, focusing on where exactly my brush is going. I’ve already missed a few spots anyway. “That’s great, about your test,” I say.

“I owe you, De Backer.”

“Oh, you don’t … really …” I stammer.

“Come on, let me treat you. Whatever you want to do, we’ll go out this weekend.”

“I’ve already got plans, sorry.” Hannah had mentioned going out and doing a little shopping. I wasn’t really planning on going with her, but it could be fun.

“Get to thinking, because I owe you. Big-time.”

“Okay,” I say, and try to get back to the painting, but every few seconds my eyes sort of drift down, and he’s there, right in the corner of my vision. I don’t want to grin, but I can’t help myself. And when he catches me, Nathan looks up, and he’s smiling too.



“So how has your week been?” is the first thing Dr. Taylor asks me when I sit down in her office. I’d been digging into my hands the entire drive over here. I can still count the eight crescent-shaped marks on both my palms. These sessions have been getting easier, appointment by appointment, but I still feel sick when I remember I have a visit coming up.

“Ben?”

I finally look up, lost in the zigzag pattern of Dr. Taylor’s black-and-white blouse. “Yeah? Sorry, it was fine.”

“Anything in particular happen?”

“Not really.” There were the theme days, and the pep rally, which everyone is forced to go to. “It was Spirit Week at school.”

“Oh, those are fun. Does North Wake do the dress-up days?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t really do any. Not my kind of thing.”

“Understandable. My class used to go all out for those kinds of things.” Dr. Taylor chuckles. “I never really understood the appeal myself, but everyone seemed to have fun.”

“Hmmm.” I really don’t know what to say next.

“How are things going with Hannah and Thomas?”

I shrug. “Fine. Can’t really complain.”

“They’re getting better about the pronouns?”

I nod. I can’t really remember the last time I had to correct either of them.

“I wanted to ask you”—she crosses her legs—“how you felt when Hannah left?”

I really don’t want to answer her. I want to move on to a different question, maybe ignore what she just asked me. I know the answer. I’ve known it for ten years, but now it just makes me feel guilty. Do I really have a right to be mad at her, to still be angry at what she did, after everything?

“I …”

“Ben?” Dr. Taylor eyes me.

“I was really mad at her,” I say.

“For leaving you?”

I can’t help but feel like this will somehow all get back to Hannah. Like there’s a bug on my clothes or something and Hannah can hear every word I say from her spot in the waiting room. Just feet away. “That’s pretty much what she did, right?”

“Well …” Dr. Taylor’s head sort of bounces. “Is that what you felt happened?”

“Maybe you should ask Hannah about all this.” I don’t mean for it to sound rude, but I really don’t want to talk about this.

“Ben, I can promise you that I don’t discuss anything that goes on in this room with her.”

“Sorry.” I dig my nails into my palms again, trying to fit them in the same exact places. “I … I get why she did it,” I say, guilt washing over me. “And I get that she really couldn’t take me with her. But it still hurt, you know?”

“Of course.” Dr. Taylor jots something down. “Perhaps it is unreasonable for a college student to take on the responsibility of adopting their younger sibling, but that doesn’t invalidate the hurt caused. How do you feel about her now?”

“She’s trying.” I stare down at my hands. “And isn’t that what matters?”

“Does that matter to you?”

I nod.

“Can you tell me about a good moment you shared with your parents?” Dr. Taylor says, basically out of nowhere.