Page 96 of The Starfish Sisters
Her expression is miffed. “I’m not a baby.”
“That is definitely true.”
She picks through the dark chips to eat first. “I heard you talking to Suze. About the bad guys.”
“You don’t have to worry about it. They’re a long way away.”
“They beat her up really bad, though, right? And put her in the hospital?”
For a split second I wonder how to answer this in a way that’s not even more traumatizing. “They did. But you see she’s fine now.”
“I don’t think she’s fine. I think she’s really sad in her heart.”
Ben takes a sip of water and raises his eyebrows my direction as if to ask permission. I give a faint nod. “You’re a good observer, Jasmine,” he says. “I think she’s got a lot to think about, and sometimes you have to be a little bit unhappy to get to the next place in your life.”
She looks away. “I never want to be unhappy.”
“I know. Me either. Unfortunately, everybody is sometimes.”
“But why?”
“Well, how would you know you were happy if you were never sad?”
Her look of recognition is so acute I have to stifle a chuckle. “I never thought of that!”
“It would all be the same and you wouldn’t be able to appreciate anything.”
She nods. “So Suze is unhappy so she can be happy in the end.”
“Yes.”
“Have you ever been really sad?” she asks.
“Yes.” He puts his sandwich down and wipes his fingers. “Lots of times. But the worst one was when my wife died.”
I frown, worried that this is way too much information, but Jasmine seems undaunted. “Was it a car accident?”
“No. She died of an illness you get in hot places.”
“What disease?”
“Malaria.”
“I’ve heard of that. There’s also cholera, typhoid, and dengue fever.” Which she pronouncesden-goo.
“Where do you get this stuff?” I ask.
“YouTube.”
I narrow my eyes. “You have a very curious mind, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
We eat for a while, listening to the ’70s pop station I have playing on the speakers.
Very quietly, Jasmine says, “I’m not moving to London.”
I let it go. Because of course she is. Just as I had to move when my parents divorced.
