I Wish You All the Best(52)

“Ben.” She groans. “Listen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it … That wasn’t cool of me.”

I sigh. Great. “It’s fine.” I hang my head down and pretend to look at some sweaters.

“No, it’s not.” She grabs the clothes in my arms. “You want to get out of here?”

Like no tomorrow. “Only if you’re ready.”

“Yeah, sure. Mind if we still stop by the grocery store?”

“That’s fine.” I follow Hannah to the checkout line.

“So, when do I get to meet this Nathan kid?”

“What?” Dear God, let these conversations end, please.

“He picked you up last night, right?”

“We’re just friends.”

“Well, I didn’t suggest otherwise.” Hannah gives me a sly smile. Dammit. “But if you say so.”

“I do say so,” I protest, even though part of me wants to ask her what I can do about Nathan. Either how to get rid of whatever these feelings are, or how I can actually get him to maybe, possibly, like me? Because the thought of this is terrifying.

Nope.

I need to distract myself, because I cannot do this right now. I stare at the junk that decorates the shelves along the checkout line. Water bottles, ChapStick, “As Seen on TV” stuff, and other things no one really needs or wants until they realize they don’t have it.

My eyes settle on the rack of nail polish, all in these sweet-looking pastel colors. I can’t help but think about Sophie and Meleika’s nails, always flawless. And the hundreds of designs I’ve seen online, the countless tutorials I’ve watched.

It’s something I’ve always wanted to do. Another thing to add to the “I’ll Never Be Able to Go Out Like That in Public” list. I wonder what Hannah would say if I just picked up a bottle and bought it. She’d probably be more interested in where I got the money to buy it in the first place.

Would she try to fight me on it? Or tell me to take it off before school starts back up? Like I don’t already know that. But at least if I did them tonight that would get me a few days, right? I can’t wear the clothes I want to wear, or that I think look good, but shouldn’t I at least be able to paint my goddamned fingernails?

“Oh, those are cute,” Hannah says. She must have caught me looking.

“Huh?” I shake myself out of my trance. “Oh yeah, they’re cool.”

“You want to try it out?” Hannah asks.

“Huh?”

“You were staring at them for like five minutes. Want to pick out a color?”

“I, um …”

Then she giggles. “Go ahead, they’re only like five bucks.”

Was I that obvious? “No, I …” I lose my train of thought looking at all of them again.

“Listen, if you don’t pick one, I will, and I’ll tie you down while I paint your nails.” The woman in front of us glances over her shoulder. I give her what is probably my most awkward smile until she turns back around. “Go on, pick a color.”

I grab the light pink and twist the bottle around in my hand. It looks cheap, definitely not the higher-end brand that most people would go for, but I like this one the most.

“Really? Pink? The blue would match your eyes better.”

I’m grinning despite myself. “I like pink.”

“You do you, little sib. I’ll have to teach you a thing or two about picking colors.”



Hannah doesn’t skip a beat when we get home. She hands me the bags, fishing out the nail polish, and goes straight for the small hallway bathroom to grab a towel, leaving Thomas to get everything else out of the car.

“What are we doing?” He walks around sort of lost and half-asleep.

“I’m painting Ben’s nails,” she says, then she points at me. “Living room, five minutes.”

“Um, okay.” I climb up the stairs and drop my bags on my bed. In the living room, Hannah’s already waiting for me, of course, sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table. She’s grabbed a few extra things, like a long emery board, a tall bottle of something clear, and two smaller bottles that I’m guessing are the base and top coats.

“Sit.” She points to the other side of the coffee table. “And give me your hands.”

I kneel on the carpet and stick my hands out. “What are you going to do?”

“Dearest sibling, I’m going to file down these claws of yours.” She motions to my fingers, which seems like an exaggeration, but I don’t argue. They aren’t that long though. “And then I’ll help you paint them.”

“It can’t be that hard.”

Hannah scoffs. “Okay, I’ll just sit back and watch. I’m sure that’ll go well.” She takes my right hand first. “Spread your fingers.”

“Okay.”

Hannah just rolls her eyes and goes to work. “So, what do you want to talk about? Cute boys? Are you into guys?”

Well. That was fun while it lasted. “I swear to God, Hannah.”

“I’m just kidding.” Then she waits a beat, maybe deciding whether or not the nail on my index finger is now even. “But also sort of serious. What are you into anyway? Are you into anyone?”