What Happens Now(6)

It bothered me that the three of us females in the house didn’t look like a family. Maybe if we looked like one, it would be easier to feel like one.

“Let’s wait until your next day off,” I said to Mom. “Besides, the water will be freezing. I’ll do some crafts with Dani downstairs and we’ll be quiet while you sleep. And later if you give me a list, I’ll take her to the grocery store.”

My mother got a faraway look. I knew this was a tempting offer: one less thing to do today. An hour she could have all to herself, sleeping or watching Millionaire Matchmaker, which for her was basically like going to the spa.

“Arianna, no,” she finally said. “It’s going to be a beautiful day. I can’t let you hang around the house. You both need to be out, being active. I’ll pack up some snacks.”

She left the room. Danielle watched her go, then turned to me and bugged out her eyes.

“Maybe your guy will show up!”

“Shhh!” I lowered my voice, hoping Mom hadn’t heard her. “What do you mean, my guy?”

“You know. Your summer crush.” Now she smiled that evil genius kid smile.

“How do you know about things like ‘summer crushes’?”

“Because I live. In the world. Also I eavesdropped on you and Kendall talking about it once.”

“Well, that’s over, and you’re not allowed to talk about it. Actually, don’t even think about it. Don’t think about thinking about it.”

(That went for me, too.)

“You’re no fun,” said Danielle. Her expression turned sad and she added, “I wrote a letter to Jasmine about the lake because I wanted to know if any of her friends live there. But she didn’t come last night.”

Oof. I usually knew when there was a fresh note for Jasmine, Dani’s fairy pen pal. I’d slip into Dani’s room once she was asleep and grab it off the windowsill, then write back on special green vellum paper I kept hidden inside an old math textbook.

“You know what happens sometimes,” I told her. “Jasmine gets busy working at the fairy vet hospital and can’t write back for a while.”

Danielle nodded, apparently satisfied with this. I loved that I could make things better for her so easily.

My mother came back in, holding out some cash like it was the most brilliant idea she’d ever had, and said, “Here’s something for ice cream. A special treat to celebrate summer.” Her face got suddenly serious again. “Promise me you won’t get the kind with artificial colors.”

Dani rolled her eyes. I sat up, swung my feet to the floor, and took the money from my mother.

The Possible, I chanted to myself.

Everything is Possible.

Maybe I would continue to believe it. Maybe it would even be true.

Every summer, Danielle created a rock collection that she arranged in meticulous groups along the edges of our front porch. To most people, they looked random and unremarkable, easy to dismiss as a little kid’s Accumulation of Crap. But I’d learned to see what was special about each one.

As soon as Danielle and I stepped from the car across the lake’s parking lot, she bent to pick up the first member of the new crop.

“Look,” she said. “It’s a perfect oval. And so smooth.” She held the rock and stroked it with one finger as if it were alive.

“Mmmm,” I said in not-faked admiration. “Good for drawing a face on.”

Dani nodded, then clutched it to her chest as we walked over to the admission kiosk. The kiosk was actually a tall, narrow wooden house, and years ago Kendall and I decided it looked like a latrine so we called it the Crapper. A kid from school named Julian was working the Crapper today, perched on the metal folding chair, reading a book.

Kendall. God, I wished she were here and not camping with her older brothers, that she’d chosen me over them this weekend.

“Hi, Julian,” I said as we stepped up to the Crapper window. “One adult, one kid, please.”

“Hey, Ari,” said Julian, taking my money. He swished his eyes toward my arms. It had been over a year, but the buzz about my scars was still humming, because people could see them now. I’d stopped covering them up. I wasn’t trying to show them off or anything. At some point, they’d become a part of me. I woke up one day okay with them, the same way you’re okay with a birthmark or a white spot on your skin from a long-ago mosquito bite you never stopped picking at.

It was like a physical reminder of my depression, a way for me to accept that even though I had fought and won, it would always be there with me. And also that I had power to fight again.

“Ready for the season?” I asked Julian, who was still fixated on my arms. What do you think? Were they what you imagined?

Julian glanced back up. “There’s carpeting on the dock this year. Splinter-proof.”

“Fancy.” I smiled. No worries, you’re not the first person I’ve caught looking. The lookers used to bother me until my therapist, Cynthia, suggested that maybe people saw a little of themselves in those lines on my skin.

I’d recently asked Cynthia if I could take a break from our sessions for the summer. I was tired of talking about feeling okay and thinking about feeling okay. I wanted a chance to just, you know, feel okay. She’d said yes, but she’d also made me set an appointment for the first week in September to make clear this was a trial run. It felt like a challenge, and one I wanted to win.