Page 4 of Happiness for Beginners

This was crazy. “How can you be coming on my trip?”

“Technically,youare coming onmytrip,” he said. “Duncan only knew about it because I was going.”

Duncan. This was all his fault. Again. As usual. “But he never said anything about you,” I said.

“I think at the time you signed up, I thought I couldn’t go. But now I can.” He shrugged, looking pleased.

This was not the plan. The plan, as I had fantasized for the last six months, was to drive out to Wyoming and have a brave adventure with a bunch of strangers that would totally change not just my life, but my entire personality. The plan was to set out alone into the world, conquer it, and return home a fiercer and more badass version of myself. The plan did not include anybody but me—especially not, of all people, Jake.

I made an apologetic face. “I’m so sorry,” I said, like this settled things, “but I’m supposed to stay with my grandmother on the trip out.”

“Grandma GiGi? She loves me.”

“She couldn’t,” I said. My grandma GiGi didn’t love anybody except me. And Duncan. On occasion.

“She does. I swear. Call her.”

“I’m not going to call her. I’ve got things to do. On the drive back, I have to go to a bar mitzvah to see some old friends.”

He nodded. “The son of your high school boyfriend and your high school best friend. Right? Why would you go to that?”

I gaped. This kid knew way too much about my life. “I’m going,” I said, “because we’re friends on Facebook now, and because they asked me to, and because it’s not healthy to hold a grudge.”

“You’re friends on Facebook?”

“Yeah. Except I never, ever go on Facebook.” I blinked. “Why do you even know about any of this?”

“Duncan told me,” he said with a shrug. “That’s fine. I don’t need a ride back. Just out.”

“You’re not coming back?” I said.

“EventuallyI’m coming back,” he said. “But first I’m going to Baja. Like four days after the BCSC trip ends. I fly out of Denver.” He paused. I guess he expected me to ask him why he was going.

I didn’t.

He continued. “I snagged a research assistantship for a field study on whales.”

I stared at him.

“We’re going to row out to their breeding grounds in little fishing boats and study how they interact with humans.”

I gave in to curiosity. “Why?”

“Because it’s fascinating.”

“Is it?”

“It is. The whales swim up to the boats—voluntarily. People pet them.”

“Why?”

He frowned like he couldn’t imagine how I could ask that question. Like I should get it. Which in truth, I did. Why would you pet a whale?Because it wanted you to.

“It’s powerful,” he said. “People cry. People burst into show tunes.”

“Show tunes?”

“People say they are never the same again.”