Get Happy (10 page)

“Alone, please,” I said. “And don’t tell Hayes that there’s anything wrong. And please don’t tell me anything about the fun you had.”

Fin had no money left and I had a total of two dollars in my pocket, so I ordered a Coke, and the waitress gave us an annoyed look.

As soon as she was gone, I let it out. “My dad is Keanu Choy. He isn’t a drug dealer or a convict. He’s a hotshot Hawaiian scientist with a high opinion of himself.” I went on to explain about the phone call with Aunt Joan.

“So he met your mom when he was an intern at the Shedd Aquarium?” Fin asked.

“Then he left us, moved to California for a job, and never looked back because he’s a go-getter. A guy who goes to get stuff. A guy who goes to get ahead.”

“Then he moved back here?”

“The aquarium offered him a big kahuna job and he couldn’t pass it up, being the go-getter that he is, and by then he had found himself a lovely new family.”

“You’re kidding?”

“A wife and stepdaughter.”

“Son of an unbelievable biscuit.”

“Yep. He is here now, with them.”

“What are you going to do?”

My anger was turning into exhaustion. “First, I need to forget about him and move on with my life. Second, I have to quit Get Happy.”

“Why?”

“Because Cassie reminds me of him.”

“What does Cassie have to do with it?”

“She is a recreational scuba diver and member of his SOS club.”

“What?”

“I didn’t tell you before, but I found out on her blog. They’re Save Our Seahorse buddies. They’re saving the world one seahorse at a time. He encourages her and all his followers by posting positive comments on their sites with lots of exclamation points!”

“You are freaking kidding me.”

“No. Every time I see Cassie, I’ll be reminded of him. I need to move on with my life. I think my mom is right. He isn’t worth the time of day. I’m just going to forget about him. I don’t want to talk about it and I don’t want you to pressure me into contacting him.”

“On one condition.”

“What?”

“You can’t quit Get Happy.”

“I have to.”

“If you quit, it will mean that you’re missing out on something good because of him. It’s like giving him the time of day.” He squeezed my hand. “Think of
me.
I would be missing out on fun with you because of
him.
And
you’re going to buy your uke with the first paycheck.” He raised his eyebrows.

“But Cassie will induce projectile vomiting.”

“Pretend she isn’t there,” he said. “You don’t have to spend time with her. Just the rides to and from the gigs. Who cares if she’s buddy-buddy with the seahorse people?” He slid the Coke in front of me. “Come on, Min. Drink from the river of life. Drink from the cup of vigor and vim. Do not let this guy rain on your parade. Do not let this guy ruin your life.”

I had to smile.

The waitress came and asked us again if we wanted anything.

When she left, Fin admitted that he had looked up Keanu Choy after I first told him of my suspicions. “There is one positive here,” he said. “At least you know you have good genes.”

“They’re not good genes,” I said.

“He’s gorgeous and smart and successful. They’re good genes.”

“They’re mean genes.”

He crushed a napkin into a ball and threw it at me. “Min, you don’t have mean genes.”

“I have a couple.”

“We all have a couple. Except maybe Joy Banks. She has gosh-darn sweetie-pie genes.”

I felt tears coming on and didn’t want to cry, so I started to swear. Fin lunged across the table to give me a hug and said, “Say, ‘fudderudder’!”

I laughed and swallowed back my tears and then I took a big gulp from the cup of vigor and vim.

13

I
HAD A FLURRY
of songwriting, filling page after page in my songwriting journal. Twice after school, I went to Tenley’s Music Store and got to play my new songs on a real uke because the bearded guy wasn’t there. On the third day, he rose from the dead and was sitting behind the counter when I walked in. Needless to say, I turned around and hightailed it out of there.

Thank goodness for cookie-tin ukes. At least I had something to hold. In the privacy of my room, I strummed air and sang my heart out.

14

A
S YOU KNOW
, time does not stop to allow you to ponder the flotsam and jetsam of your mind. When you’re a working girl, you have to put on your wig and your tail and get to work, gosh darn it.

Fin was right. I could tune Cassie out. Another week flew by and it was time for another set of Get Happy parties. I was especially excited because after this one, we were getting our first paychecks.

The day began with a pep talk from Joy and helpful advice on how to guarantee a tip.

“Flirt with the parents!” Cassie chimed in.

“Cassie!” Joy exclaimed.

“Not gross flirting. Just things like, ‘Wow, I love your window treatments.’ ”

Fin and Hayes laughed. “That’s brilliant,” Fin said.

We piled into the van. Cassie had insisted I take the front seat, and she climbed in next to Hayes, telling him about how she was going to spend spring break in Aruba, showing him beach photos of her last trip on her iPhone, blah, blah, blah, finding little reasons to squeeze his thigh from time to time, the whole of which I witnessed in the makeup mirror.

“I’d kill to go to Aruba,” Fin said. “I have to go to Minnesota with my family. In a car.”

Cassie didn’t even respond.

I got dropped off at a redbrick house with one sad yellow balloon tied to the doorknob. Joy told me the birthday girl was a six-year-old named Lindsey. Six. That had to be easier than dealing with pretweenies. A frazzled-looking woman answered with a phone in her hand. “Hold on, Kevin!” she yelled into the phone, and then she pulled me into the house. “Thank goodness!” She led me through the living room and showed me a door to the basement. “Go on down. I’ll be down in a second.” She disappeared into a bathroom.

I stood for a moment, adjusting my cups and fins,
intending to give myself a pep talk, when from behind the closed bathroom door, the woman let loose with a string of swear words that would make a pirate blush. “No, it’s not all right, Kevin. I’m sick of your excuses.” She said his name as if she were spitting it out. “You’re never here, Kevin. It’s your daughter’s birthday. I know you can’t do it for me, but you could do it for her.” The smell of cigarette smoke started seeping through the crack below the bottom of the door. I heard crying. “Don’t bother coming home, Kevin. I’ve had it.”

I figured the best thing I could do was to keep the kids entertained. The stairs led down to a depressing, low-ceilinged room with a TV, a rug that smelled like cat pee, and some beanbag chairs.
The Little Mermaid
DVD was on, running the scene in which Ariel’s father trades his life to set her free of the curse.

The girls weren’t watching, though. One girl, the tallest and most conventionally pretty in the room, was holding court. “We can’t all be mermaids,” she said. “I think Lindsey should be Flounder, and Ruthie and Katie should be Flotsam and Jetsam and — ”

The girls caught sight of me at that point and started squealing.

Amazing things, lungs. Tiny ones can produce enough air for really loud noises. The squealing grew even louder, and the girls began to crowd around me.

I began the script. “I’ve been swimming around all day searching for a special birthday girl to see — ”

“Me! I’m Lindsey!” A short girl lunged forward and hugged me. She was adorable — pudgy with a front tooth missing.

“It’s Lindsey’s birthday,” the tall girl said. “It’s my birthday in two weeks. And I’m having an even bigger party. I’m getting the princess.”

I smiled and made my way over to the middle of the room, the girls still trying to hold on. “Wow. You guys are like barnacles.”

Behind me, the tall girl crouched down and peeked under my costume. “She has feet!” More squealing as the tall girl, named Cory, tried to lift up the flounces that served as the fins of my tail.

“Stop that,” I said. “Yes, I have feet.”

“You don’t look like Ariel at all,” Cory said, and turned to Lindsey. “This isn’t a good one.”

Lindsey looked like she was going to cry. If there had been a utility closet nearby, I would have told the
mean Cory that it was Ursula’s lair and locked her up in it. “I’m not Ariel,” I said. “I’m a different mermaid.”

“Is that your real hair?” Cory asked. “Because it doesn’t look very nice.”

I squelched a burning desire to kneel down, look her straight in the eyes, and say:
Is that your real personality? Because it’s about as appealing as a sea slug.

“We’re supposed to play a game and get a prize,” Cory said. “The Ariel at my cousin’s party did that. You’ve got the stuff in there.” She tugged at my bag.

“You are not allowed to touch a mermaid’s purse,” I said. “That’s actually rude.”

The girl’s face darkened. She turned to Lindsey and said, “Let’s have the cake now. This is boring.”

Lindsey looked as if she were dying, as if any moment, angels would descend, weeping, to carry her limp soul to heaven. “Okay,” she said, and started following Cory up the stairs.

“Everybody, freeze!”

Miraculously, the girls froze. Lindsey looked at me, eyes big and trusting. Something about the way she believed in me, even though I was obviously a fake, gave my fragile ego a boost of vigor and vim. I stood
up, adjusted my wig, and grabbed my trident. “I have a proclamation. We’re going to play a fun game, and since it’s Lindsey’s birthday, she gets to go first.”

“When it’s my birthday, I’m going first,” the tall girl said.

“Yeah? Well, that’s not today, is it?” I gave her a wicked smile. “After Lindsey, we’ll go in order of size. Shortest first and tallest last.”

Okay, that was mean, but it was immensely gratifying to see that brat’s face when she looked around the room, realizing that she was going to be last.

I turned my attention to Lindsey and let her set out the props for the game and made sure to move the basket close enough that she got it on the first try. I made up a silly song about how wonderful she was and put a string of fake gold pearls around her neck.

Her smile was beautiful.

After the party, I sailed out the door, powerful in a goodness-and-light kind of way, like a mermaid superhero, like maybe I could save the Lindseys of the world from depression, one birthday party at a time.

15