Leo rubs his chin, his eyes on the table, deep in thought. After a moment he reaches for his water glass and raises it in the air.
“I think it’s incredible,” he says so earnestly that Teddy laughs, a mixture of relief and delight. Then they both turn to me, their faces expectant. So I give them the only thing I can, the only thing I know to be true, the words that have been toppling around in my head since this conversation began all those weeks ago in a darkened hotel room on the other side of the country:
“This,” I say softly, “is going to change everything.”
I don’t mean it the way I usually do.
I don’t mean that change is hard or scary, though it’s definitely both.
I mean only to say this: that sometimes, through good luck or bad, through curses or fate, the world cracks itself open, and afterward nothing will ever be the same.
All I mean is that this seems like one of those times.
There’s still time before my shift starts at the soup kitchen, so Teddy suggests going to the Lantern for pie.
“To celebrate,” he says, looking at us hopefully. “And to make some plans.”
I agree to come along, but Leo’s final paper—a critical look at the evolution of design in three of his favorite Pixar movies—is due tomorrow, so he needs to get home. As we walk him to the bus stop, he can’t stop talking about Teddy’s idea. “What if we also looked for people already doing something nice for others? Then we could reward them for that so they can do more. You know, pay it forward and all that.”
Teddy bobs his head. “I love it.”
“And I’ll design the website, obviously,” Leo continues. “We could even have a good deed of the week or something.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his notebook, flipping open to an empty page. “And cards. We should make calling cards to hand out with the money so that people who get inspired can report back on the site. And a logo! I could totally do a logo too. We just need a name.”
“I haven’t thought of one yet,” Teddy says. “You’re the creative brains behind this operation, so I’m sort of hoping you’ll come up with something brilliant.”
By the time we reach the stop they’ve hatched a thousand more plans, and when we part ways Leo is sitting on the metal bench, already scribbling furiously.
At the Lantern, Teddy holds the door open for me, then pulls out my chair at the table, and I can’t tell if he’s still in fake businessman mode or he’s just being unusually polite. We order two slices of blueberry pie from our usual waitress, then he sets down his menu and gives me a long look.
“I’m really sorry,” he says, twirling his water glass.
“For what?”
“For not telling you sooner. I was dying to, but I wanted it to be a surprise. And I needed to get everything sorted out first: filing the paperwork, sketching out the business plan, meeting with the accountant, working out the—”
“Teddy,” I say. “It’s okay. I’m really proud of you.”
The worry on his face disappears. “You are?”
“Of course. I think it’s incredible. And I can’t believe how far you’ve taken it already.”
He smiles at this, then lifts a hand, almost as if he’s about to reach for one of mine. But the waitress brings over our pie and he grabs his fork instead.
“Well, you were right,” he says, tucking into his slice. “I guess I just needed to be challenged. Who knew?”
“I did,” I say with a grin.
He winks at me. Teddy McAvoy is the only person I know who can pull off a wink. “So you’re on board, right?”
“With what?”
“I want you to be involved,” he says, taking a huge bite of his pie. “Especially now that you’re gonna be here next year. I mean, I know you’ll be busy with school, but you always manage to find time for this stuff, and now we’ll get to do it together.”
He finishes chewing and gives me a blue-tinted smile. I open my mouth to respond but realize I’m not sure what to say, and as the silence lengthens, his face falls.
“I know I pushed you too much about taking the money,” he says. “And I’m sorry. But this is different. It’s the kind of thing you’d have done if it was you, right?”
When I nod, his eyes brighten again.
