“Strawberry,” she finally says, as if there’s any question.
Jonah plucks the paper from her hand with a smile. He’s facing Maisy, so I can only see his profile, but it’s enough to make me squirm in my seat. His strong jaw. Those lips. Jesus.
He holds up the paper, and I focus on that instead of him. “Huh,” Jonah says, and shows it to me. It actually does readWhat’s your favorite ice cream? but there’s also a drawing of an ice cream cone next to the words. Jonah grins and catches my eye, as if we’re sharing this moment. Then he blinks and jerks forward like he’s been caught fraternizing with the enemy.
It’s Jonah’s turn next. “What’s your favorite animal?” He hesitates, and I’m not sure why. Clearing his throat, he says, “Dolphins.”
Huh. I never would have guessed.
George laughs. “Be serious, Jonah.”
“I am serious.” But something in his voice has my attention.
George shoots him a scrutinizing look through the rearview mirror. “You were raised on a farm. Around horses and cows and— Have you ever even seen a dolphin? In person?”
His shoulders hunch. “I’ve been to the aquarium in Kansas City. Dolphins are beautiful. Intelligent. Fierce.” His eyes dart to me and then back to the front. What was that about?
“Well, that explains it. If you’ve seen them once in the aquarium?—”
“George,” Mom cuts in, laying her hand on his arm. “It’s a game.”
He lets out a disgruntled sound and stares forward.
“I guess it’s my turn.” I gesture for the cup, ready to be done with this.
Sure, that’s why. It has nothing to do with wanting to take the focus off Jonah. But now that it’s my turn, my stomach is doing somersaults. I hate revealing things about myself. At least so far, they’ve been silly things. My favorite vacation was the trip we took to France to visit my grandparents—Uncle Henri had been with us. That was before Dad got all controlling. Okay, I wouldn’t want to explain that one. But my favorite animal is a hedgehog. Ice cream? Salted caramel cheesecake.
But those questions are taken. I stare at the paper in my hand.
“Vivian?”
I take a calming breath. “Name a hidden talent.”
And here’s where I tell them I like to perform. Sing. Dance. The whole shebang. And I’m good at it. I’ve been practicing at the dance studio owned by Mrs. Landers’s daughter. I even have a YouTube channel. It’s private, so I can control who sees it and who doesn’t. Especially who doesn’t. But I can’t say any of that. “Origami.”
“Folding paper?” Jonah asks, crinkling his nose like he just can’t see it.
Before I can give him a scathing remark, Mom pipes in. “Oh my gosh. You used to make the cutest animals. They were so intricate and beautiful.” The memory lights up her face, telling me she’s not remembering everything.
George is giving me an almost proud look, and I think Jonah is still trying to picture it. I’m ready to move on. I shove the cup at Jonah. “Who’s next?”
But Mom isn’t done. “You were so good. Are you still doing that?”
I fold my arms and sink back in my seat. “No.”
Her smile falters. The memory of why I don’t do origami anymore reflected in her face.
Jonah’s head swivels as he looks at Mom and then me. “Why not?”
I don’t want to play this game anymore. “I just don’t?—”
But Mom apparently has no filter today. She places her hand over her mouth, her eyes full of remorse. “I’m so sorry, Vivian.”
“What?” Jonah turns to me. “Why is she sorry?”
I could dodge the question. Should dodge the question. But I’m tired. Tired of holding everything in. Tired of pretending.
“My father didn’t appreciate my love for origami. I made him a swan.” Not just any swan. It was one of the most advanced patterns I could find. My need to impress him, even then, makes my stomach hurt. But I smile like it doesn’t matter. “He crushed it in his hand like it was nothing.” I can feel Jonah’s eyes on me. “I was seven.”
