Everything, Everything (5 page)

“I’m not so sure.”

“That’s OK. I can be sure for both of us. We’ve been together in this house for fifteen years, so I know what I’m talking about. When I first started with you I thought it was only a matter of time before depression would take you over. And there was that one summer when it came close, but it didn’t happen. Every day you get up and learn something new. Every day you find something to be happy about. Every single day you have a smile for me. You worry more about your mother than you do about yourself.”

I don’t think Carla has ever said this many words all at once.

“My own Rosa,” she continues, but then stops. She leans back and closes her eyes in the grip of some emotion I don’t understand. “My Rosa could learn a thing or two from you. She has everything I could give her, but she thinks she has nothing.”

I smile. Carla complains about her daughter, but I can tell she spoils her as much as she can.

She opens her eyes and whatever was bothering her passes. “You see, there’s that smile again.” She pats my leg. “Life is hard, honey. Everyone finds a way.”

LIFE IS SHORT™

SPOILER REVIEWS BY MADELINE

LORD OF THE FLIES
BY WILLIAM GOLDING

Spoiler alert: Boys are savages.

FIRST CONTACT

TWO DAYS PASS
and I’ve stopped moping. I’m getting better at ignoring the neighbors when I hear a ping coming from outside. I’m on my couch, still mired in
Lord of the Flies
. Mercifully, I’m close to finishing. Ralph is on the beach awaiting a violent death. I’m so eager for the book to end so that I can read something else, something happier, that I ignore the sound. A few minutes later and there’s another ping, louder this time. I put the book down and listen. Pings three, four, and five come in rapid succession. Something’s hitting my window. Hail? I’m up and at my window before I can think better of it. I push the curtains aside.

Olly’s window is wide open, the blinds are up, and the lights are off in his room. The indestructible Bundt is sitting on his windowsill wearing googly eyes that are staring right at me. The cake trembles and then tilts forward, as if contemplating the distance to the ground. It retreats and trembles some more. I’m trying to see Olly in his darkened room when the Bundt leaps from the sill and plunges to the ground.

I gasp. Did the cake just commit suicide? I crane my neck to see what’s become of it, but it’s too dark to see.

Just then a spotlight illuminates the cake. Unbelievably, it’s still intact. What is that thing made of? It’s probably best that we didn’t try to eat it.

The light goes out and I look up just in time to catch Olly’s black-clad hand and flashlight retreat into the window. I stay for a few minutes, watching and waiting for him to come back, but he doesn’t.

NIGHT TWO

I’M JUST SETTLING
in to bed when the pings begin again. I am determined to ignore him, and I do. Whatever he wants I can’t do. It’s easier not to know.

I don’t go to the window that night or the next.

NIGHT FOUR

I CAN’T STAND
it. I peek out from the corner of my curtains.

The Bundt is sitting on the sill, Band-Aids and bandages covering half its body. Olly is nowhere to be found.

NIGHT FIVE

THE BUNDT IS
sitting on a table next to the window. There’s a martini glass filled with green liquid, a pack of cigarettes, and a pill bottle with a skull and crossbones label. Another suicide attempt?

Still no Olly.

NIGHT SIX

THE BUNDT IS
lying on a white sheet. An upside-down plastic water bottle is attached to what looks like a coat hanger and is hanging above the cake. A string hangs from the bottle to the Bundt like an IV. Olly appears wearing a white jacket and stethoscope. He’s frowning down at the Bundt and listening for a heartbeat. I want to laugh but I don’t let myself. Olly looks up and shakes his head solemnly. I close my curtains, suppressing a smile, and walk away.

NIGHT SEVEN

I TELL MYSELF
that I won’t look, but as soon as the first ping sounds I’m at the window. Olly is wearing a black bathrobe with an oversized silver cross around his neck. He’s performing last rites on the Bundt.

Finally I cannot help it. I laugh and laugh and laugh. He looks up and grins back. He takes a black marker from his pocket and writes on the window:

FIRST CONTACT, PART TWO

From:
Madeline F. Whittier

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
Hello

Sent:
June 4, 8:03 PM

Hello. I guess we should start with introductions? My name is Madeline Whittier, but you can tell that from my e-mail address. What’s yours?

- Madeline Whittier

P.S. You don’t have anything to apologize for.

P.P.S. What is that Bundt made of?

From:
genericuser033

To:
Madeline F. Whittier

Subject:
RE: Hello

Sent:
June 4, 8:07 PM

you are a terrible spy madeline whittier if you haven’t already figured out my name. my sister and i tried to meet you last week, but your mom wasn’t having it. i really don’t know what the bundt is made of. rocks?

From:
Madeline F. Whittier

To:
[email protected]

Subject:
RE: RE: Hello

Sent:
June 4, 8:11 PM

Hi,

Bundt Cake Recipe

3 cups all-purpose cement mix

1 1/4 cup fine grain sawdust

1 cup gravel (various sizes for added interest)

1/2 tsp salt

1 cup Elmer’s Glue

2 sticks unsalted butter

3 tsp paint thinner

4 large eggs (room temperature)

DIRECTIONS

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease Bundt pan

For the cake

1. In medium bowl, whisk together cement mix, salt, and gravel.

2. In large bowl whisk together butter, Elmer’s Glue, paint thinner, and eggs. Do not over mix.

3. Gradually whisk in dry ingredients in small batches.

4. Spoon batter into Bundt mold.

5. Bake until a tester inserted in cake refuses to come out. Cool in pan on rack.

For the glaze:

1. Whisk together sawdust and enough water to form a thick yet pourable glaze.

2. Set rack with cake over a piece of wax paper (for easy cleanup).

3. Drizzle cake with glaze and let solidify before serving.

(Serves 0)

- Madeline Whittier

P.S. I’m not a spy!

FIRST CONTACT, PART THREE

Wednesday, 8:15 P.M.

Olly:
i was going to email you back, but saw you were online. your recipe cracked me up. has there ever been a spy in the whole history of spying that’s admitted to being a spy? i think not. i’m olly and it’s nice to meet you.

Olly:
what’s the “f” stand for?

Madeline:
Furukawa. My mom is 3rd generation Japanese American. I’m half Japanese.

Olly:
what’s the other half?

Madeline:
African American.

Olly:
do you have a nickname madeline furukawa whittier or am i expected to call you madeline furukawa whittier?

Madeline:
I don’t have a nickname. Everyone calls me Madeline. Sometimes my mom calls me honey or sweetie. Does that count?

Olly:
no of course it doesn’t count. no one calls you m or maddy or mad or maddy-mad-mad-mad? i’ll pick one for you.

Olly:
we’re gonna be friends

Thursday, 8:19 P.M.