Chapter 15 #2
He holds up the paper, and I focus on that instead of him.
“Huh,” Jonah says, and shows it to me. It actually does read What’s your favorite ice cream?
but there’s also a drawing of an ice cream cone next to the words.
Jonah grins and catches my eye, as if we’re sharing this moment.
Then he blinks and jerks forward like he’s been caught fraternizing with the enemy.
It’s Jonah’s turn next. “What’s your favorite animal?” He hesitates, and I’m not sure why. Clearing his throat, he says, “Dolphins.”
Huh. I never would have guessed.
George laughs. “Be serious, Jonah.”
“I am serious.” But something in his voice has my attention.
George shoots him a scrutinizing look through the rearview mirror. “You were raised on a farm. Around horses and cows and— Have you ever even seen a dolphin? In person?”
His shoulders hunch. “I’ve been to the aquarium in Kansas City. Dolphins are beautiful. Intelligent. Fierce.” His eyes dart to me and then back to the front. What was that about?
“Well, that explains it. If you’ve seen them once in the aquarium—”
“George,” Mom cuts in, laying her hand on his arm. “It’s a game.”
He lets out a disgruntled sound and stares forward.
“I guess it’s my turn.” I gesture for the cup, ready to be done with this.
Sure, that’s why. It has nothing to do with wanting to take the focus off Jonah.
But now that it’s my turn, my stomach is doing somersaults.
I hate revealing things about myself. At least so far, they’ve been silly things.
My favorite vacation was the trip we took to France to visit my grandparents—Uncle Henri had been with us.
That was before Dad got all controlling.
Okay, I wouldn’t want to explain that one.
But my favorite animal is a hedgehog. Ice cream? Salted caramel cheesecake.
But those questions are taken. I stare at the paper in my hand.
“Vivian?”
I take a calming breath. “Name a hidden talent.”
And here’s where I tell them I like to perform.
Sing. Dance. The whole shebang. And I’m good at it.
I’ve been practicing at the dance studio owned by Mrs. Landers’s daughter.
I even have a YouTube channel. It’s private, so I can control who sees it and who doesn’t.
Especially who doesn’t. But I can’t say any of that. “Origami.”
“Folding paper?” Jonah asks, crinkling his nose like he just can’t see it.
Before I can give him a scathing remark, Mom pipes in. “Oh my gosh. You used to make the cutest animals. They were so intricate and beautiful.” The memory lights up her face, telling me she’s not remembering everything.
George is giving me an almost proud look, and I think Jonah is still trying to picture it. I’m ready to move on. I shove the cup at Jonah. “Who’s next?”
But Mom isn’t done. “You were so good. Are you still doing that?”
I fold my arms and sink back in my seat. “No.”
Her smile falters. The memory of why I don’t do origami anymore reflected in her face.
Jonah’s head swivels as he looks at Mom and then me. “Why not?”
I don’t want to play this game anymore. “I just don’t—”
But Mom apparently has no filter today. She places her hand over her mouth, her eyes full of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Vivian.”
“What?” Jonah turns to me. “Why is she sorry?”
I could dodge the question. Should dodge the question. But I’m tired. Tired of holding everything in. Tired of pretending.
“My father didn’t appreciate my love for origami.
I made him a swan.” Not just any swan. It was one of the most advanced patterns I could find.
My need to impress him, even then, makes my stomach hurt.
But I smile like it doesn’t matter. “He crushed it in his hand like it was nothing.” I can feel Jonah’s eyes on me. “I was seven.”
“What the f-udge? Vivian, I’m—”
I shake my head almost violently. I’m using all my energy to push against the memory. To not get lost in the disappointment. The anger. The feeling that I would never be good enough. I can’t handle Jonah being sweet right now. I swallow the emotion clogging my throat.
“Let’s keep going,” George says, squeezing Mom’s hand.
She looks like she’s about to cry, but she nods. “I guess it’s my turn.” Her laugh sounds nervous as she pulls a slip of paper from the cup. “What’s your favorite…flower?” There’s a quiver in her voice. She opens her mouth and then shuts it again.
And then Mom begins to cry.
“What’s going on?” Jonah whispers, and I shake my head. Is she still upset about Dad and me?
She shares a look with George, and then Jonah bows his head as if he knows something.
“What’s going on?” I ask, darting a glance at Mom and then Jonah.
“It’s fine. Everything’s fine,” George says, his eyes on the road. “Your mom is just a little emotional.”
Jonah shifts so he’s sitting sideways, facing Maisy. His hand drops behind the seat. Which seems a little weird, but whatever. Mom is my main concern right now.
Everyone clearly wants me to let it go. But the morning before Maisy’s party is still fresh in my memory. My mother has never been overly emotional. “Mom?”
“I’m fine, sweetie.”
I grip the back of Jonah and Maisy’s seat. “What—”
Jonah grabs my forearm, and it’s such a shock that I stare at him. His voice is low. “Let it go, Vivian.”
I jerk my arm away, but then I grab his hand and squeeze. Not in a we’re-in-this-together way. More like-a-what-the-fuck way.
We’re staring at each other. A battle of wills. “Just for now,” he says.
His words are like a slap to the face as I realize that Jonah not only knows something, but he’s been keeping it from me.
I pull my hand away. “Whatever.”
The games end, and everyone but Maisy falls silent. She hums to her dragon princess.
I put in my earbuds and listen to rage music while glaring at Jonah.
His eyes plead with me to understand. “I promise I’ll explain later.”
I point to my ears and shake my head. “Sorry. Can’t hear you.”