by Abby Cooper
I smiled and repeated her words in my head. Trust your readers.
Maybe Mrs. Yang’s advice wasn’t perfect lately, but this thought was pretty good.
Zoe wasn’t reading my stories exactly, but somehow, her brain was. So maybe I had to trust her to come up with some of her own answers and storylines. If I tried to write every little thing, I’d drive myself bonkers…kind of like I was doing now.
It sounded impossible. But maybe sometimes every author had to let go of getting it totally right.
Even me.
20
Partner Projects
Mr. Kremen smiled at us as soon as the bell rang for fifth period to start.
“So back to our friend the liver,” he said, and everybody groaned, except for Zoe, who laughed.
“I’m not eating that stuff again,” she called out, and everyone else laughed too.
“No one expects you to,” he said. “No more liver here. We’re almost done with the whole digestive system, as a matter of fact. To finish it up, we’re going to do a final project in pairs. You can choose any aspect of the digestive system you’d like, any part or process, and demonstrate what you’ve learned about it in a creative way. This will be due next Friday.”
Ugh. That sounded about as fun as lunch had been. But at least the project was with partners, so that was good. Maybe I’d get to work with Zoe, and we’d have to work on it at lunch! Then the Sparkles really couldn’t sit with us. It was the perfect excuse.
But before I could think any more about how great it was that we had partners for this, Mr. Kremen started assigning them.
“Thea and Evelyn, Logan and Levi, Jordan and Remy, Jonah and Mikah…” I crossed my fingers and my toes and tried to cross my eyes, too, only that never really worked. It usually just made my head hurt. I kept trying anyway. “Zoe and Afiya, Jade and Gresham, Maggie and Keyaris, Alexa and Ariella, Ethan and Jackson…”
As Mr. Kremen continued with the list, my heart felt like it had fallen to my feet and rolled right out the door. A funny noise came out of my throat as Zoe and Afiya grinned at each other from across the room. Trust her, I told myself in a very firm silent voice. Trust her!
That was going to be easier said than done.
Mr. Kremen gave us a few minutes to meet with our partners, so I peeled my eyes away from Zoe and Afiya and made my way over to Clue.
“Did you do something?” I blurted out.
“I’ve done a lot of things,” he said. “Today alone, I ate breakfast and lunch, went to class and the library…”
I glared at him. “Clue.”
He smirked. “Oh, was that not what you meant?”
“It’s Zoe,” I whispered. “Things are just being weird today.”
My face burned as I caught his eye. I didn’t know why I kept blurting things out to Clue, but there it was.
“Forget it,” I said.
Clue’s face was serious now. “No, tell me,” he said. “What’s going on?”
I sighed. I really didn’t want to talk to Clue about this, but I couldn’t talk to Zoe about it. Or Mom or Dad, obviously. He was sort of my only option.
A big gulp traveled down my throat. “So, I’m sure you already know that the things I write about Zoe…happen,” I said. “But lately she’s not following all of my, um, storylines. At first it seemed like she said or did almost everything I wrote. And she still is, but she’s doing a lot of other things, too, and making more friends, and saying things I didn’t write. I know I need to trust her, and I want to, but it’s…hard.”
He tapped a pencil to his chin. “I figured as much about the writing. Nobody just sings ‘Twinkle, Twinkle’ like that. Anyway, that’s probably how it’s going to be. She’s going to do things you don’t write, unless you narrate every single moment of her life.”
Hmm. That wasn’t a terrible idea. Except that it would probably be a ton of work. There were zillions of things that happened each day, and even though a lot of them weren’t that important or interesting, I’d have to keep track of every single one. I’d have to start first thing in the morning and stay up all night. And I’d have to do it, like, every night, since each day was a teeny bit different than the last. I had to do what Mrs. Yang said, at least when it came to that. I didn’t have to provide every single detail. I had to trust that my readers—that Zoe—would fill in the blanks.
But what if, for some reason, I couldn’t trust her? What if her filling in the blanks was exactly what I was afraid of?
“What’s so bad about her deciding what she wants to say and do anyway?” Clue asked. “Real people do that. And you like that she’s a real person now, don’t you? When it’s my turn to use the magic, and my secret comes to life, I’ll stay out of it and let my person be herself, do what she wants.”
My mouth turned to sandpaper as I remembered how the magic could only work for one person at a time. “Please don’t switch,” I whispered.
“I won’t…yet.” He raised an eyebrow, and I looked away. “We can talk more about that later,” he added. “We only have a few minutes, and we should discuss our project. I think we should study the liver.”
I frowned. Of course he wanted to study the liver. There were a ton of digestive parts to choose from, but that was the one he wanted for our project?
“I’d rather not,” I said.
“I don’t know about you, but I like to learn more about the things I don’t understand,” he said, “and the things that scare me.”
I understood the stupid liver fine. And I so wasn’t scared of it. Who would be scared of a big squishy blob?
And even if I was scared of it (not that I was), how would he know that, and why would he care?
“Just think about it,” he said. He turned to the green notebook on his desk. “Think about everything.”
“Fine,” I said. But I didn’t mean it one bit.
21
Perfect Moments
After school I tried not to think about how Afiya had decided that she and Zoe had to work on their project. They were going to the school library while I went to get Bo. When they were done, Zoe would come to my house for dinner. It was a good enough plan, but any plan that involved Zoe hanging out with Afiya—or anyone who wasn’t me—was not a plan I was super excited about.
I knew I couldn’t tell Zoe what to do and say every single second. Mrs. Yang’s advice about that was right, and so was Clue’s, even though I didn’t want to admit it. The fact was it’d be too much like writing a long list of all the boring, everyday things. My hands would get crampy and tired, even if I typed every word. Maybe I had to be better at noticing our perfect best-friend moments, the simple ones that made me happy. Maybe I’d keep a better eye out for them.
And maybe I’d write a few, just in case, but with things Zoe could fill in.
* * *
It was a normal night at Jade’s house. Her dad was wearing a camo hat—“Camo—not to be confused with chemo!” he’d announced earlier. Her mom was cleaning and organizing and fixing things and painting and cooking all at the same time. Bo was sprawled out on his stomach, holding Giraffe with one hand and drawing what looked like an octopus defeating the bad guy with the other. Zoe was next to him, helping, and Jade was on the couch. In a few minutes, Jade decided, they were going to play cards—the game where you slap your hand on the pile when there’s a match—and they were both going to slap at the same time. They were going to start giggling, and they were going to keep moving their hands so they were stacking them on top of each other’s over and over and over again, faster and faster and faster. They’d giggle harder and harder, and finally they’d get tired and stop. Then, without any words, they’d look at each other and start messing up all the cards, the ones in the pile and the ones in their hands. And Zoe would lean back and say something about how great this was. Jade would nod, and they’d smile at each oth
er using only their eyes, because eyes could smile as much as actual smiles could. It would be exactly what they needed.
Mom rushed by with a spatula in her hand. “Ten minutes till dinner,” she said. By now Mom pretty much expected that Zoe would eat with us. Zoe could actually look like herself too. No nightly disguise needed! I wasn’t so worried about Dad making the connection now that I wasn’t really sharing my stories.
“Want to play cards?” I asked in a way-too-excited kind of voice.
Zoe gave me a funny look. “Sure.”
We lay across from each other on the floor and I did my best to play it cool. There wasn’t anything to be nervous about, so why were my hands doing their annoying sweaty thing?
“Afiya told me that famous musicians used to play in Tiveda, back in the olden days,” Zoe said as she dealt the cards. “Cool, right? A couple of them even went on to be on Broadway! She showed me newspaper clippings about it at the library. And she has a piano at her house that she wants to show me sometime. She’s been taking lessons since she was five.”
“Oh, wow,” I said. “I didn’t know that.” I wasn’t exactly sure if I was referring to the Broadway people thing or the Afiya-and-the-piano thing. I guess I didn’t know about either. Both facts were actually really cool. But for some reason I couldn’t get myself to admit it out loud.
I threw a seven a little harder than I meant to.
She threw an eight. I played a nine.
“Oh, and it turns out I like dark chocolate best. And red jelly beans. The strawberry ones. Not cherry. And cats! Afiya showed me this video of a cat looking at itself in the mirror. It was amazing.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
“It was so funny. I think I really like funny videos of cats.”
She added a jack to our pile.
I looked at the options in my hand, and I knew what to do right away.
Jack.
There it was, right out of my story. Exactly how I pictured it. Lots of slapping and lots of laughing. Only Zoe was laughing not really because of the hilarious slappy-ness, I didn’t think, but still because she was thinking about the funny cat video, which didn’t actually sound that funny.
But, then again, maybe it was. It must have been, if she thought so. And she was totally laughing about it with me.
I should probably start laughing, then.
My laughter sounded fake and it felt fake but I kept doing it. Maybe fake laughs were like fake smiles. Dad told me once that if you smiled, even if you were crabby, it could actually change your mood and eventually you’d really feel like smiling. So maybe soon enough I’d feel like laughing for real.
But I didn’t.
This was supposed to be a perfect best-friend moment, but something was wrong.
“This is the best,” Zoe said. I waited for the happy feeling, but it didn’t come. And when Mom shouted, “Dinner!” from the kitchen—and then raced around the house shouting it some more—I hung back, waiting, thinking maybe it needed a little more time. Maybe you couldn’t rush real happy feelings.
But maybe you couldn’t write them into happening, either.
* * *
“I’d like to make a toast,” Mom said once we were sitting around the table. She held up her glass as high as she could reach. “To passing today’s appointment with flying colors.” Dad held up his glass, too, and Bo, Zoe, and I followed. “You’ve been very brave,” she said to Dad, “and we’re all so proud of you.”
Dad smiled, but his eyes were dull, and I could tell he was counting down the minutes until dinner was over and he could go back to sleep.
“Does that mean cancer is all gone?” Bo asked.
“It seems to be all gone,” Mom said. Everyone grinned, but my mouth wouldn’t do it. It was like somehow it knew that it was too soon. That this was good, but not totally official.
We clinked our cups together, and I looked at Zoe. I didn’t know what I was waiting for—maybe a smile or a poke in the arm like the one she’d given me last night. A poke that said I know you don’t know how to explain the way you’re feeling right now, because it’s this weird happy/sad/scared/excited kind of thing, but I totally understand, and I still think you’re great. But that poke and that smile didn’t come.
Mom and Dad passed around plates and scooped out portions and did all those regular dinner things, and Zoe started chatting with me about other funny videos she’d watched. It was great Zoe was happy, and I was glad she was having so much fun here with me and at school and everywhere else.
I was. I really was. So the bad, annoying feeling in my gut, whatever it was, was just going to have to go away.
22
Story Problems
“Jade, can I talk to you for a second before you go to lunch?”
I went up to Mrs. Yang’s desk after English on Friday. Whatever this was, I hoped it wouldn’t take long. I wasn’t going to try to write Zoe’s every thought and every move, and I wasn’t going to try to force feelings. But I had written a line in my notebook about Zoe eating with me—and only me. Problem was, if I wasn’t there, she’d definitely find other people to eat with. And I probably wouldn’t be too excited about who that could be.
“Thanks again for letting me take a look at some of your work,” said Mrs. Yang. She handed me the copy of my story. There were bright purple marks all over it. “I finally had a chance to jot down some of my thoughts. I think it’s so clever how you incorporated our new student into your story.”
I bit my lip.
“A lot of writers are inspired by their friends,” she continued. “It’s wonderful to be able to bring elements from real life into your stories. Like I mentioned the other day, real life can be so inspiring, which is why it’s important to make sure you’re enjoying that too.”
A giant sigh escaped my mouth. For a second I thought she was going to say something like, It’s wonderful that what you write becomes real, right? but she hadn’t. For now, the secret was safe.
“This story shows a lot of talent,” she said. “Lots of smiley faces in my notes. But as far as revision goes, I’d love you to think about how you might strengthen the plot. I know I told you that it’s okay to leave some things out of stories, but characters need to have layers and interact in different ways. They can’t go around being happy and having fun all the time. It’s okay for them to make mistakes and to try things and fail. They can have problems and disagree, like real friends sometimes do.”
“Mmhmm.”
There she went again, going on and on about real life. I paid attention to real life, thank you very much. And real life was exactly why I had to write so much. If I didn’t, someone’s real life would literally fall apart. Anyway, if Zoe and I had a problem or disagreed in a story, that would mean we would have one in real life. No way was I going to write something like that.
Mrs. Yang smiled. “Give it some thought and go back to it when you’re ready. I really like the characters you’ve created, but try to dig deeper. Everyone has layers; everyone faces tricky situations and tough feelings. The more you explore that, the stronger your stories will be.”
“Sure,” I said.
I turned away from her and tried to ignore the bad feelings bubbling up inside. Mrs. Yang was a little wrong before, about how I needed to pay more attention to real life, but now she was really wrong. My stories would be fine if people stayed happy. No, not fine. Better than fine. Great. I bet she wouldn’t know a good story if it walked up to her and said, Hi, I’m awesome.
I took a breath and went to catch up to Zoe, but she was already heading into the hall, and Clue was right on her tail. He looked like he was purposely sticking close to her. Something felt fishy, and it wasn’t the fish sticks being served for lunch today.
I tapped Clue on the shoulder. Zoe kept walking, but he stayed back.
“Hi,” I said. “Quick quest
ion. Are you following Zoe?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not trying to. I’m just trying to figure out if there’s a way I can keep her around and also have my person come to life.
“But there’s not,” he finished. “I tried again last night. It must just be a one-person-at-a-time kind of thing.”
“Oh.”
He tried to catch my eye, but my gaze darted all over the place. A million knots bounced around in my stomach, only they didn’t feel like knots at all. They felt like bowling balls.
“No,” I whispered, still looking away. “Please don’t switch yet. I want her to be here. I need more time.”
“More time to what?” Clue asked. “Brainwash her into staying your best friend? Jade, I chose you because I knew you were writing about someone you really wanted to be a part of your life. I thought you wanted a friend. But yesterday you made it seem like all you want is someone to control.” Then he added, “The switch could be quick and easy.”
“Please,” I said. “Don’t. Not yet. I…I can’t. I’m not ready. I need time to figure things out and make them right. And then I need time to say goodbye. A good goodbye. You know?”
Clue made a face like someone had punched him in the guts. “Yeah,” he said, “I know.”
I took a breath. “Okay then. Cool.”
I wanted to walk away, but something stopped me.
“Are you okay?” I asked. He looked lost in thought.
He opened his mouth but stopped his thought. “Yeah, it’s nothing,” he said. He looked at the floor. “Hey, do you want to work on our health project after school? I could meet you in the library.”
“Um…I might not be able to,” I said. “I’d have to check with my mom to see if she can pick up my brother…and I need to be home for dinner.”
“I think Zoe and Afiya are working on theirs again,” he added.