If It Makes You Happy

by Claire Kann

  That voice could shut the entire fuck up.

  Deep breath in and out.

  “Sam wanted to run, so we are. Sam doesn’t have a brother like Winston or a partner like Kara. She cries at night because she thinks nobody really likes her. People use her because she has money. She worries everyone thinks she’s annoying.”

  “Well, she is,” Kara said. “But still very loveable.”

  “Sam has me. I’m running with Sam for Sam. No different than how I entered the contest for Winston.” I looked at Kara. “Or worked at the grocery store with you and gave you all of my paychecks so you could get that mixer thing. And I think I do those things for me, too, because I want to be able to say I did it.

  “Not bragging like I’m a better person because I give more, but I view it like me saying I was able to talk to producers without having a panic attack or ‘Hey, remember that time I ran a mile without stopping? That was pretty dope.’ They’re my accomplishments, too. I just want to experience my life, my way.” I stared at the blank screen while I spoke—and then promptly had the life scared out of me when I turned to Dallas. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “Like what?”

  “That.” I gestured in his general direction as if that were good enough and in no way a nonsensical answer. “You’re doing a thing with your eyeballs.”

  “A very obvious thing,” Kara said.

  “Am I? I’m not sure what you mean.” He began to smile, all of his teeth showing.

  “You better be careful,” Kara warned, while standing. She stretched on her tiptoes, hands reaching above her head. “That one will have you throwing yourself in front of vans skidding across ice to save her life.” She dropped into a squat, eye level with him. “And that’s just the start of it.”

  SA(RU)M(ON)

  Sam: Hey um Granny is looking for you.

  Sam: She says you’re not answering your phone.

  Sam: You really messed up this time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this mad.

  Sam: I think what you did was really cool. But um.

  Sam: Maybe you could stay with Kara tonight? I don’t think you can be here.

  Sam: I could try to talk to her? See if I can get her to calm down?

  Sam: I’ll let you know when the coast is clear. If it ever is.

  Sam: Um, Winnie?

  Winnie: Yep. I’m at Kara’s. I’m off work tomorrow and I’m going to the Christmas in July party with Dallas so maybe I could come back after that?

  Sam: Um.

  FAM-BAM-MAJAMA

  Mom: You know the rules. When I call, you answer. If you miss my call, you return it immediately.

  Mom: Where are you? With Kara? Dallas?

  Mom: Answer your phone.

  Dad: I can see you read that. Don’t play with me.

  WINSTON (Zeddemore)

  Winston: Dude, what did you do? They won’t tell me

  Winston: Does Sam know? Don’t make me ask her PLEASE

  Winston: WHY DOES EVERYONE KNOW BUT ME

  Momma-da-vida

  Mom: I’m not mad, sweetie.

  Mom: I don’t like this. Stop hiding from me.

  Mom: Please just talk to me.

  WINSTON (Zeddemore)

  Winston: ASDFGHJKLNVIPAFLJDANF

  Winston:!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  Winston: I GOT AN EMAIL FROM SANA STARLIGHT

  Winston: IS THAT WHAT YOU DID THAT’S WHAT YOU DID ISN’T IT YOU GOT ME ON THE SHOW???????????

  Winston: I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH

  FAM-BAM-MAJAMA

  Winston: NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO YELL AT WINNIE FOR THIS

  Winston: THAT IS ALL.

  Winston: NO PUNISHMENTS EITHER!

  Dad: Boy, you better relax off that caps lock

  Thirty-Three

  “You can’t ignore them forever.” Kara kissed my forehead.

  “I’m not ignoring. I’m monitoring. Checking for tone and vibes.” I put on my smuggest big-sister smile. “Winston loves me.”

  “Of course he does. Don’t be wimpy. Call your mama.” She walked on her knees to the edge of the bed. “Taking a shower. Miss Jepson wants us there by ten!”

  She left me alone in her room with the boy-band photo staring at me. I used to know their names; she talked about them enough that it was impossible not to absorb some of their bio data through osmosis, but the little one with the hair swoop looked like the type who would never ignore his mom.

  “Fine.”

  He was yelling at me with his pretty eyes.

  If I had to do it, I’d take the long route, dialing the number manually. My mom’s number was one of the few I had memorized. She made me do it for emergencies. My uncle called it “old-school style,” back when everyone’s brains were “basically meaty phone books full of numbers.”

  Three rings. “Hi, Mom.”

  She sighed.

  * * *

  One frantic afternoon spent with Kara and Miss Jepson later, I arrived at Dallas’s house. Walking up the drive, I smoothed down the skirt of my dress. Red wasn’t really my color, but Miss Jepson had worked a Christmas Miracle.

  Kara explained the idea—Mrs. Claus: Teenage Dream. Ready to flirt it up before old Saint Nick locked her down. Back when she had a first name, probably stayed out too late, went on kissing sprees, and had hobbies other than baking and elf- wrangling.

  My new dress had the perfect cut, fold, and amount of material to create a fantastic flare shape when I twirled, and the hem hit the exact spot on my thighs where I liked my dresses to end. She also added a white faux-fur hem around the bottom of the dress, at the waist, and around the neckline; fashioned a pair of silent jingle-bell bangles for my shoes and wrists; and created a hooded white shoulder cape out of material that could double as fresh snow. Meanwhile, Kara had helped put my braids in rollers and dip them in boiling water to make the curls stay in place once dry.

  I looked good. Felt good and pretty and happy.

  And considering I was basically in the witness protection program until Granny calmed down, that was saying something. Plot twist: my parents weren’t even upset about it, which I think really pissed Granny off. For once they had taken my side and were excited for Winston to compete.

  Oh, but I was still in trouble for not returning their calls. No way they’d let that slide.

  Dallas stood on his front porch. He kept wiping at his forehead and flushed cheeks but broke into a huge heart-stopping smile when he saw me.

  “Aren’t you hot?” The black dress shirt, black slacks, and red-and-gold vest combo had to be cooking his organs.

  “I’m a single bead of sweat away from dehydration.”

  I snickered.

  “But my mom is happy. So.” He gave me a once-over, smile growing impossibly wider. “You look great and surprisingly on theme.”

  “Miss Jepson.”

  “Ah.” He held out the crook of his elbow. “Shall we?”

  “A gentleman. I like it. How befitting for a girl in a cape.”

  I’d been to his house dozens of times for deliveries. I could walk the path from his driveway, through the garage or the front door to the kitchen with my eyes closed. Now I’d finally get to see the rest of his house.

  We unlinked arms as we rounded the first corner. I slowed down, but he kept pace a few steps ahead, clearly giving me time to marvel at all of the pictures on the walls. The kitchen had zero personality. There were showrooms in model houses that had more flavor. I guess I thought the rest of the house would be like that, too—sterile with no traces of the people who lived there.

  Row after row of pictures showed the three Meyers in front of beaches, majestic cliffs, and hilly green mountains covered in mist; dinners at huge banquet tables full of laughing and smiling people; his mom with her arms outstretched on a grand stage in front of a packed house and a microphone; Dallas in every kind of sports uniform you’d imagine; his dad in his college football uniform and several of him once he�
�d gone pro. I tried to look at each picture, but there were too many to notice as we kept walking.

  The trophy case was a different story.

  “Oh, come on. Really?” I gestured at the huge glass case trimmed in gold metal. It had been split into three sections—pictures, trophies, rings, awards, and plaques for each of them.

  “My parents are a proud people.”

  I made a noise in the back of my throat. “I guess I would be, too, if I had all this.”

  “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Um, yeah, it does. You earned this stuff. It’s cool. Showy as hell, but still cool.”

  He leaned against the wall facing me.

  “My grandpa played baseball. My dad played football. My mom’s side of the family is full of athletes, too. I was literally born to be good at sports. The only reason why I have all these things in the first place is because collective someones decided my type of physicality is worth rewarding. I could probably win music awards, too, if I wanted.”

  “You cannot sing. No. It’s too much. Begone, you foul, talented demon.”

  “I’m lucky and I’m naturally good at a bunch of stuff.”

  It kind of bothered me how much he had downplayed his accomplishments like that. I didn’t care about sports, but it was impossible not to notice how the cheerleaders were always the first ones at school, how the football team practiced late into the night, how the track and field team would sweat to death in the sun every day.

  “Being naturally good doesn’t mean you don’t work hard at being successful. Dedication isn’t necessarily something you’re born with.”

  Dallas held out his hand. “Come on.”

  After passing under a pointed archway and walking down a short hallway, the backyard came into view. The enormous backyard with a giant white tent in the center of it. Most of the houses in Merry had plots of land but not that massive.

  “Jesus, did you buy the house behind you and tear it down?” Fake snow coated the ground and a snow machine blew featherlight sparkly confetti into the air.

  “It’s still there. And technically mine.”

  “Your parents gave you a house?”

  “More like a cottage. I use my room in the main house more often.”

  “The main house.” I snorted. “Just so you know, I like you, but I also hate you. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I never do.”

  Right before we entered the tent, Dallas gave my hand a tight squeeze and then let go. I knew that meant thank you. Technically, this wasn’t a Royal Engagement.

  It was his mom’s birthday party.

  A band played music while people danced. I recognized the song, something by Glenn Miller, because in a movie a character holding vinyl records called out to her sister and said it was Glenn Miller and then the same song played.

  The wooden floor had been placed over the grass and an uncovered block of it took up the center of the tent. A few brave souls danced, but most of the partygoers sat in groups of six to eight at round tables that surrounded said dance floor or stood mingling with whoever crossed their path. The food had been set up in a U shape along the sides of the tent, and waiters in tuxedos walked around with drink trays balanced on their flat palms.

  I shivered. “Not complaining, but a penguin could survive in here. How is it so cold?” If I had a choice, cold was the way to go. You can only get so naked before you run out of cool-down options.

  “Air-conditioning units. Six of them.” He placed a hand on my lower back. We walked to the left toward the food tables.

  “How cute. Melting snowman cookies. So sad and yet hunger-inducing.” Everything on the food tables looked delicious and none of it could be trusted.

  Dallas pointed toward a small table. The red tablecloth didn’t match the others. The placement seemed a little off, too, as if it had been squashed in at the last minute. “This is the Winnie-approved food table. Everything on it is gluten-free.”

  I stared at him in surprise.

  “I called Kara. She gave me most of these desserts, and I sent my dad to the store to buy the rest of what she recommended.”

  Kara was the kind of person you’d wait for forever if she asked you to. Straight from epic poems with devoted ladies-in-waiting and befuddled knights left on hills to rot forever cursing and revering her name. “You ever just love someone so much it makes you want to die in the most dramatic way possible for them?”

  “That was some solid hyperbole.”

  I dragged myself out of my Kara-reverie. “Hyper—what now?”

  “Dad.” Dallas snapped to attention, shoulders back and chin raised. Interesting.

  His dad, Rob, wore slacks and a plain dress shirt. Not a single jingle bell or candy cane to be found anywhere on him.

  “Miss Winnie.” There was a thing with my name that only older Black people did. I was always Miss Winnie.

  “Sir.” And being called that automatically made sir and ma’am jump out.

  “I hear you’re off to college soon. That’s quite an achievement. Your grandmother must be thrilled.”

  “Thank you.” Granny was also a fiery ball of rage on the hunt for me, but she was still proud! Probably!

  “Well. It was nice to see you again, Miss Winnie. Dallas, be sure to help your mother with anything she needs.”

  “Right.” His dad left as swiftly as he had arrived.

  “He seems nice and very chatty.”

  Dallas nodded. “Um, I should also probably warn you.” He looked around the room. “I tried to make the rounds before you got here, but I didn’t get to say hi to all of my relatives. They’re probably going to come say something to me at some point.”

  “It’s a party. I’ll just duck out and hide somewhere until you’re done. Over there somewhere. There’s punch.” I gazed up at him, teasing smile out in full force. “I love party punch.”

  “That’s not very date-like.”

  “Date?” But we weren’t wearing our crowns! It wasn’t a public event! Did he mean a real date? “This is a non-royalty date?”

  He nodded. “And this is my aunt.”

  Before I could stick my foot in my mouth, Dallas said hello to a white lady in a white dress and white hat covered in feathers. She air-kissed both of his cheeks, fawned over how tall he’d gotten, and admonished him for not calling her more. Yep. Definitely family. Only thing missing were the humiliating cheek pinches.

  “And where is Lacey?” She glanced at me in confusion.

  “We broke up. It was mutual.”

  Another glance at me and slight crinkle of her forehead later, she said, “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “It’s not. This is my queen, Winnie.”

  Surprise crawled across his aunt’s face in slow motion, morphing into confusion before relaxing. “Oh, of course! Right! Your mom told me about that. Something your lovely little town does. I’m glad you two were able to become friends. I mean, I’m assuming you’re just friends.”

  That feathered freak had the nerve to look relieved.

  “Actually, there’s no ‘just’ about it. I don’t quantify people I care about that way.”

  Dallas’s soft laugh made me float for half a second. “It was good to see you. We’re going to get some punch.”

  If only it had been that easy. On the way to the glass punch bowl with a freaky yet adorable ice statue of an elf inside it, lined by frosted goblets, someone stopped Dallas every thirty seconds to say hi, catch up on this, that, and the other.

  And he introduced me as his queen, every single time.

  “Hello, my darling!” Dallas’s mom appeared in a cloud of snowflakes. Literally. Two little kids followed behind her, giggling as they threw handfuls of paper confetti snowflakes into the air around her. She planted a huge kiss on Dallas’s cheek, rubbing her lipstick off with her thumb after. “Are you having a good time? WINNIE!”

  She let him go, reaching and pulling me into the mommiest, most spiced-rum-scented hug to ever exist. “
Look how grown up you are,” she said. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages. Did your grandmother come?”

  “Unfortunately, she and the other grannies in town had concert tickets for tonight that they’d bought months ago.” I only knew that because Sam had told me and thought it might improve Granny’s mood enough for the goddess magic to work later that night.

  “And how are you? Ready for college?”

  “Ready-ish.”

  “I understand. Dallas has been the same way. It’s just so good to see you.” Another hug. “He talks about you constantly.”

  “Mom.”

  That quick, flat outburst almost made me laugh.

  “What? It’s true”—she looked at me with a conspiratorial twinkle in her eye—“he does.”

  Dallas stared at her. If I had to put words to it, I’d guess he was silently screaming.

  “And he made us promise to leave you alone. We came to all of your events.”

  “Wait, seriously?”

  “Mom. Please.”

  “Forced by my own son, whom I love more than life itself, to hide in the shadows like some commoner. Anyway.” She made a drunken twirl of her hand. “I expect a dance later, young man. Winnie, you let me know if he misbehaves, yes?”

  “Sure.”

  Once she and her pint-sized entourage left, Dallas said, “Not a word. She’s drunk and having a good time.”

  “I gathered as much, thanks.”

  “I don’t talk about you all the time.”

  “Uh-huh. Why are you so obsessed with me?”

  For an answer, Dallas only looked at me and sighed.

  * * *

  After more mingling, a few spins around the dance floor, and eating some Winnie-approved snacks that mightily impressed Dallas, he asked me to follow him outside, where I was rudely reminded that it wasn’t a chilly seventy degrees outside.