I Wish You All the Best

by Mason Deaver

  “He does?” I ask.

  “Oh, here and there,” she says.

  While he packs groceries into the refrigerator, Nathan’s dad says, “And every night at dinner, and before he goes to bed, and at breakfast.”

  I turn to Nathan, who’s currently seated at the counter with his face buried in his hands, and God he’s so cute right now.

  “I do not talk about him 24/7!” he argues.

  “He’s right.” Mr. Allan folds up the leftover plastic bags and slips them into a small container under the sink. “He has to sleep sometime.”

  “Oh, hardy har har.” Nathan rolls his eyes. Then he mouths Sorry. But I’m too busy laughing.

  “So, Ben, did you want to join us for dinner?” Mrs. Allan asks.

  “Um, sure,” I say. “If y’all don’t mind, that is.”

  “Of course not!” Mrs. Allan leans against the counter. “We were just going to do pizza, if that’s okay with you? I’m too beat to cook tonight, work was a nightmare.”

  I shrug. “I’m good with whatever.”

  “Any dietary things I should know about? No meat, no cheese?”

  “No, really, I’m good.”

  “So, what have you boys been up to?” Mr. Allan asks. It doesn’t really sound accusatory, but there’s still that worry. Like what if they think we were fooling around upstairs or something?

  “Just hanging out. I took him up to the roof.”

  I’m actually kind of surprised Nathan doesn’t cover, like say we were studying or something. Nope. We were on the roof, meaning we had to be in his room before we were there. Totally alone, without any parental supervision.

  “Oh, lord.” Mrs. Allan chuckles. “You mean you weren’t completely terrified?” she asks me.

  “No.” I almost say wasn’t my first time, but I feel like that would be counterproductive. “I was at first, but it’s not so bad.”

  “I do wish he’d quit doing that,” Mrs. Allan mutters. “Scares me half to death knowing he’s up there.”

  “It’s not that dangerous,” Nathan says. “And I’m careful.”

  “I know, I know.” Mrs. Allan ruffles the top of his head and kisses Nathan’s temple. “But you’ve still got me worried.”

  “Do you want me to order?” Mr. Allan asks his wife, his phone already in his hand.

  “Yes, honey. Just get a large cheese and a large pepperoni.”

  “Got it. Huh? Oh, yes. I’d like to place an order …” Mr. Allan says into the phone before he starts walking down the hallway, his voice trailing off with him.

  “So, how long have you been at Wake, Ben?” Mrs. Allan asks. I guess that means that Nathan hasn’t told them anything. Not that I thought he would; it’s just … nice to know he kept that secret.

  “A few months now. I moved here in January.”

  “Are you enjoying it?”

  I shrug. “It’s nice. Different.”

  “I was so nervous about Nathan going to a new school when we came here. It’s got to feel strange having to start all over. New friends, new classes, new teachers.”

  “Yeah.” I lean back against the counter, eyeing Nathan.

  “Do your parents like it here?”

  “I live with my sister.” For some reason it feels impossible to lie to Mrs. Allan.

  She doesn’t ask for details, like it’s not this super strange thing to her. But maybe it isn’t, plenty of people live with their siblings, I guess. “Does your sister like it?”

  “Yeah, but she’s lived here for a while.” I can see her trying to connect the dots in her head. Whether or not she comes to the right conclusion, I’m not sure. Seems doubtful.

  “I’m glad you and Nathan are friends. It’s tough to go through high school alone.”

  “Okay, okay.” Nathan stands up. “Enough of the interrogation.”

  “I was just asking questions,” Mrs. Allan protests.

  “And Ben’s had a very busy day, so we’re going to go watch TV.”

  “It was very nice to meet you, Mrs. Allan,” I say, before Nathan grabs my hand.

  “You too, Ben.” Then she has to shout because we’re already halfway down the hall. “We’ll call you down when dinner gets here!”

  “Thanks, Mom!” Nathan shouts, and he takes me right back to his room. “I’m going to use the bathroom real quick, okay?”

  “Okay.” I watch him vanish back down the hallway, and it dawns on me that I’m in Nathan Allan’s room all by myself.

  My eyes catch all the titles lining his flooded shelves. I really just want to spend the better part of a day organizing all of these for him. There are at least five copies of Pride and Prejudice, all their covers battered and worn. I flip through one, but see that he’s written things in the margins, faded highlighter decorating entire passages.

  I put it back down quickly. That feels too personal, almost like I’m peeping into his diary. The rest of the books range from fantasy to contemporary stories. I can even recognize a few of them.

  There doesn’t seem to be any sort of organization though. Not by series, or author’s last name, or title. Even the heights of all the books are off. His desk is neat, at least, the screen saver of his laptop playing in the background.

  There’s a calendar with nearly all the days crossed off as we get closer to the end of April, and a handful of pictures have been pinned to the corkboard that hangs on the wall. Ones of Nathan and his mom, another one of all three of them downtown. They remind me so much of the pictures Mom took. Photos of a happy family at play.

  Except when I look at Nathan and his parents, I feel like I see an actual family.

  “Hey.”

  I jump at Nathan’s voice. Oh God, what if he thinks I was looking through his things? I mean, I guess technically I am, but just the pictures. I wasn’t going through his drawers or anything.

  “We took that last year.” He motions to the wall of photos, and it’s hard to tell which one he’s really talking about before he walks over, his fingers brushing it. It’s one with him, Sophie, and Meleika in the water. “They couldn’t believe I’d never been to a beach. Those aren’t exactly common in Colorado.”

  “Is that where you lived before?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He chuckles. “It was weird. Never actually been to one before, but the sand was really warm, and it felt nice under my feet.”

  “That’s before you get in the water,” I say. “After that it just starts sticking to you and you’ll never get it all off.”

  “Fair enough. Can’t say I’ve really felt the urge to go back.”

  I feel the brush of his fingers, and I’m all too happy to take his hand again. We don’t acknowledge. Neither of us look down, or tighten our grips, or say anything.

  Because we don’t have to.

  Monday comes and Mrs. Liu needs an answer.

  “I know I keep pestering you about this, but the show is Friday night and we really need an answer if you—”

  I stop her. “I’ll do it.”

  To be honest, I hadn’t walked into school with a definite answer. I kept thinking about what Nathan said, about being scared. I don’t really know if it helped. I actually think I just said whatever came to mind first.

  Which was apparently a yes.

  Mrs. Liu’s face brightens and she starts bouncing up and down. “Oh, Ben! I’m so excited! Okay, we’ve got a lot to do. I made sure to plan for your space, so you’ll just need to pick the work you want to showcase. We’re limiting each student to five pieces, okay?”

  “I’ll just show the paintings I’ve already done,” I say.

  “Like the one of Nathan?” Her voice sort of trails off.

  I nod. “That one too.”

  “Ben, that’s fantastic. I’m asking everyone to stay after school Friday to help with the setup. It should definitely leave enough time for you to go home and get changed.”

  “Okay. I’ll be here.”

  Except when Friday finally comes, I am not ready.

&
nbsp; All day at school I’m a nervous wreck, hardly talking, and I can’t quit shaking. At lunch, Sophie gives me this cube toy she says helps her when her ADHD gets really bad. And it helps a little, but only so much.

  “Any clue what we’re supposed to wear?” Nathan asks.

  I shake my head. “None at all.” I’ve been thinking about the floral shirt, the one Hannah bought me. But what if that’s too formal? Or too casual?

  “Excellent, I’ll just break out my birthday suit.” He tries to get me to laugh, but it’s not happening.

  “Yeah, didn’t need that mental image,” Meleika says.

  “I think I’m emotionally scarred for life,” Sophie mutters.

  After school, I head to the art room. There isn’t much to set up since all the partitions to hang the art are already up. We just have to pick our stations and move our work. The second I step into the art room I’m surrounded by a bunch of people. Some I’ve never seen before, others I’ve seen in passing.

  For a few seconds everyone just stares, but then they go back to whatever conversations they were having before. Mrs. Liu tells everyone who’s ready to go to the front of the school and pick their spots. Those of us who have to get work hanging in the back have to take turns with the ladder to get it down.

  “That’s amazing.” This girl glances over my shoulder at the painting of Nathan. “Nathan’s so freaking cute, oh my God.”

  “Oh, um, thanks,” I say, like I can take credit for his cuteness. Can’t argue with her though.

  I pick a place near the back, that way I might not attract a ton of attention. And once I’m done, Mrs. Liu dismisses me.

  “Just be here by eight, okay?” she says.

  Thomas doesn’t really have to change, and Hannah’s almost done by the time we get home, but I waste nearly an hour trying to decide what to wear, and now I stare at myself in the mirror, and really consider just not going to this art show at all.

  I pick the floral shirt Hannah bought me, the black one with the pink flowers, and I guess I look fine, but there’s just something weird about my body tonight, and I’ve got this gross red bump on my chin that I asked Hannah to cover up, but we don’t really have matching skin tones, and I’d rather have a bump than this random streak of slightly darker skin.

  “You ready, sib?” Hannah definitely looks better than I do. Hell, even Thomas looks more comfortable. I’m just a weirdly shaped, awkward body. Always have been, probably always will be.

  “I don’t really know.” I give myself another look, but I still hate what I see. Back home, I’d just wear whatever Mom bought me. She had good taste, and the clothes fit, and they were close to what everyone else wore so I felt less self-conscious.

  “Want to talk?” she asks.

  “Nothing to really talk about.”

  “You sure?” Hannah walks over to my bed and takes a seat on the edge, patting the spot next to her. “Come on.”

  I sigh, but do what I’m told, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “What’s up?” Hannah asks.

  “Just nerves,” I say, knowing that it isn’t just that.

  I already know my answer to Mom and Dad’s question. There’s no way I can go back to that house, not after everything they did. I want to believe they’ve changed, but I truly don’t think they have. I think this sort of change is beyond them. They aren’t mature enough to have grown on their own.

  Then there’s the idea that I’ve kept this all from Hannah. I don’t think I could ever tell her about meeting with them. It seems like a total betrayal on my part, and I don’t ever want to see her face if she finds out.

  I tried to talk to Mariam about all this, but it still feels like this oddly private thing; I can’t really explain it. Besides, I can’t always shove all my problems on them and expect them to solve it. That’s not fair.

  “Hey, nerves can be a good thing,” Hannah says.

  “How so?”

  “Well …” She opens her mouth. “Damn, I don’t have any advice.”

  “See?”

  Hannah pats my knee. “Just pretend that tonight’s gonna be the best night of your life.”

  “Really setting the bar low, aren’t we?”

  “The best night of your life, so far?” she corrects.

  “Better,” I say, rocking back and forth a little. “I can do this.” I breathe in and out slowly. “I got this.” For just the briefest of seconds I think about telling her. About the message and the meeting. But that won’t help anyone.

  I already have my answer, my home.

  “You got this,” she says.

  I hear Thomas coming down the hallway, still rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. “Everyone ready to go?”

  Hannah glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “Well?”

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  North Wake at night is sort of odd. All the lights are off except the ones in the main building where the show is. And the parking lot is packed with cars, so I guess any chance of this being a small show just flew out the window.

  “Are your friends going to make it tonight?” Hannah locks the car behind us.

  “I think so.” I check my phone, but there are no new texts. We talked about it at lunch today though, and everyone seemed excited.

  “Ben!” someone yells from across the lot, and suddenly two people are running toward me. Well, Meleika is running, Sophie’s stumbling. She can’t do much in her heels.

  “You guys made it.” I let Meleika wrap me in a hug.

  “Why wouldn’t we?” Meleika asks.

  “You weren’t answering your texts.” I don’t mean for it to sound like some kind of accusation.

  “Oh, I was driving,” she says.

  “And I have absolutely no service.” Sophie taps on her phone angrily.

  “It’s okay,” I say. “Do you know where Nathan is?”

  “I think he was going to try and get here early,” Sophie says.

  Meleika’s phone gives a little ding. “Yeah, he’s inside already.”

  “Well, since Ben isn’t going to introduce us, I will.” Hannah offers her hand to Sophie. “I’m Hannah, Ben’s sister.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “This is Sophie, and Meleika.”

  “Hey, girls.” Thomas gives them both a wave.

  “Hi, Mr. Waller.” Meleika digs around in her purse for a second. “Ready to kick this art show’s ass?” she asks.

  “Totally,” I say, following them into the school.

  There isn’t much you can do with a school lobby, but with the partitions and everyone’s work hanging up, it looks like a real gallery. And people are already walking around. I’m guessing it’s mostly parents, but I recognize a few faces. I even see Stephanie. Thankfully Todd seems absent.

  “Where is your stuff?” Sophie asks.

  “Around here.” We walk by rows and rows of different student’s paintings. They all seem to be standing to the side, ready to talk to people at a moment’s notice. When we round the corner to my spot, right at the very end of the row, I finally see Nathan.

  And he’s staring at my work. More specifically, he’s staring at the portrait of him.

  “And you must be Nathan!” Hannah says, holding out her hand. “Ben and my husband have talked about you quite a bit.”

  “All good things, I hope.” Nathan takes her hand. A perfect gentleman, as always. “I only hope I can live up to their glowing recommendation.”

  “Oh wow, Ben.” Meleika stares, her mouth wide open. “You painted this?”

  Now all five of them are staring. Well, Thomas not so much, since he’s already seen these.

  “Yeah,” I say, trying not to blush.

  “Someone’s already asked me if I painted it,” Nathan murmurs. “Told them there’s no way I had this much talent.”

  “This is so cool.” Sophie glances from one painting to another. “Oh my God, that’s Nathan!” She leans in real close.

  “Hey.” Nathan pulls her back. “Don’t breathe
on my gorgeous portrait, you’ll lower the value.”

  Sophie rolls her eyes. “Oh God, Ben, this was a mistake. His ego’s already too big.”

  “We’ll talk about it when your portrait hangs in an art gallery.”

  She flips him off, but they’re both smiling.

  Art shows are sort of surreal, even if it is just a student show. At least this one is. I can’t speak for the other ones.

  People keep phasing in and out, a few stopping to talk to me or look at the paintings. According to Nathan, Hannah and Thomas are taking a lap around the gallery. Mrs. Liu finds us a few minutes later.

  “Oh, Ben, isn’t this amazing?” She hugs me again. “The turnout is better than I hoped!”

  “Yeah.” The spot I picked isn’t too busy, but people filter by, some stopping, asking me questions about how I did the paintings. But most will just smile, nod, and move on. After another ten minutes, Meleika and Sophie head off to find the food table, and Mrs. Liu gets caught up talking to someone else.

  So now it’s just me and Nathan.

  “Still can’t believe you did that,” he says, turning around to look at his portrait again. “I like how you can see the details of the paint, like the paint isn’t lying flat? If that makes sense.”

  “It’s just the brushstrokes, nothing fancy.”

  “I still like it. It makes me feel warm.”

  “That’d be the yellow,” I say.

  “Why did you pick yellow?” he asks.

  I’m answering before I can stop myself. “Because it’s bright and hopeful.” I wait a beat. “Like you.”

  Nathan glances at me out of the corners of his eyes and gives me that sly grin.

  I feel my face go hot. “Sorry, I mean … It’s nothing special,” I argue, hoping he’ll forget what I said. “Look.” I let my finger hover over the painted version of his face. “The lines here aren’t really right.”

  “Oh, please.”

  “And I should’ve added a darker tone here to make it seem more like a shadow.”

  “Ben.” He sighs.

  “What?”

  “Tell me one thing you like about this painting.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You always point out the flaws in your work, but what’s one thing you like about this painting? Or that one?” He points to the one of the cardinal, which seems like it’s from such a lifetime ago.