Chapter 52

The hotel hosting the event is gorgeous, big and marble and fountained, unlike anything I’ve seen. But I barely get a glimpse of it before Elle (who looks fabulous in her skinny black dress) takes me around to the back door, so we can avoid Levi and other Important People. She deposits me right at the edge of the stage, her blue hair flouncing. “Stay. Here.”

I stay there, situated behind a speaker and in the center of a bunch of cords, and wait.

For nearly twenty minutes. The room fills and fills, and everyone is wearing outfits even nicer than mine, and I’m starting to feel queasy, in the best possible way. (Is there a good way to feel queasy? If there is, I’ve found it.) I have a paper full of words in my clutch, words I will say tonight, in front of all these people. I almost get it out to read over it again, but I know that’s futile—I was repeating it in my sleep last night.

Apparently, I’ve been ready for this a lot longer than I realized.

I’m beginning to worry Elle forgot about me when she finally rounds the corner again. “I’m going to introduce you now. Ready?”

“Hell no.” I smile. “And hell yes.”

“I’m right here, cheering you on.” Elle squeezes me in a hug for a split second before hurrying up the steps. The audience claps sparsely when she grabs the microphone and starts to speak. “Welcome, one and all, to what we hope will become the first of many annual banquets!”

More applause. I smile, bouncing from foot to foot. I’m so ready to climb those stairs.

“Levi Orville, our local saint, asked me to give the welcome speech tonight, but as I am highly unprofessional, I asked someone far more capable and deserving of the job to help us out.”

(I wish I could see his face right now.)

“I’m not going to introduce her because I think she can do that best for herself.” She waves to me. “Come on up.”

Letting go of every reservation I could possibly have left, I climb those stairs. I step into the spotlight, squinting for a second before my eyes adjust. The ocean of people makes me briefly dizzy. They are waiting—for me.

I take in a lot of faces in a few seconds. Mostly unfamiliar, but some are so wonderfully familiar they give me a touch of heartache. I see Clary-Jane, and Albert, and Missy. (This is the only acceptable place to wear those shoes.) I see Nikita and Suhani, whispering things to each other, smiling, waving at me. I see Keagan, with his dimpled smile and his wild curly hair and his bright eyes that tell me they’re happy I’m here.

Then, because he is sitting near the front and I can easily spot him, I meet Levi’s gaze and think about how perfect he is in that stupid (gorgeous) suit and that I could stare at him all day. I register his surprise and confusion and his sadness, too.

I smile and take the microphone from Elle.

I put it close to my lips.

I speak.

“Thank you all for coming out here tonight.” Smooth and easy, I think. Now continue. Don’t look at them directly. Don’t make eye contact.

Actually, make eye contact with Levi. But only sometimes.

I shake my hands out by my sides for a second. When the nerves don’t go away, I say, “I’m, um, a tad nervous, so you’ll have to excuse me.”

This earns an honest trickle of laughter. Confidence surges. I go on.

“Typically, Levi is the one to give speeches at his events. You all know Levi, right? He’s super tall—well, to me at least, because I’m really short—and he’s probably the nicest person you’ve ever met. Yeah. Him.” I pause, a blush creeping up my neck and down my arms. “He’s the reason why you’re here. And normally he’d be up here talking about how great and helpful and generous everyone else is. Once, he even stood in front of an audience much like yours and spoke about me. But, tonight, I want to focus on Levi.”

I catch his expression then: the fleeting pain, the embarrassment. And a smidgeon of joy—I saw that, too.

At the risk of becoming giddy, I continue. “The Color Project is a place of hope. When Levi introduced me to TCP back in June, I had no idea that such a place existed. But it was there, in front of me the whole time, and sooner than later I got sucked in. Who doesn’t want to surround themselves with hope? If you don’t want or need hope, in any way, shape, or form, you’re probably doing something wrong. You probably shouldn’t be here, of all places.”

More laughter. I let out my own breathy huff that I hope passes as a chuckle.

“As it turns out, I was looking for hope. I needed it. I craved it. And TCP gave that to me. I got to watch Levi hand freshly-written checks to struggling, single parents so their kids could go to college, to sickly people who couldn’t pay their bills, to practically anyone in need. I was a part of something bigger for the first time, and I’ve met some of the most amazing people in the entire world. Not only that—I’ve come to know myself better than ever before. When I first started volunteering, I got to help plan a wedding for two young people from Prague. That wedding, in a roundabout way, led to the realization that I am passionate about floral design.”

I shift my weight from foot to foot, still nervous, but I’m starting to get the hang of this. “Everything I’ve named so far—that’s all a part of what Levi does. Pretty spectacular, right? I know,” I add, nodding with the audience as there’s another trickling applause. “And he’s only twenty—can you believe that?”

There is a hoot, and a whistle, and a shout. Levi turns in his seat with an amused expression on his face, but soon his eyes are back on me. He’s got his hand by his face, like he’s trying to hide. I smirk. Not tonight, beautiful boy.

“So, that’s what Levi does. Now I want to talk about who he is.”

Quiet again. So quiet.

Then, Levi: “Bee, really—”

I cut him off. “A few months ago, when Levi had already become a part of my family, and vice versa, my father was diagnosed with stage 3C brain cancer. The doctors gave him three months to live, which turned out to be a very accurate prognosis, as my father died only a couple of weeks ago.” I close my eyes, letting the audience’s murmurs dull my pain. “The one person who was there consistently, through it all, was Levi. He visited my father every day he could. He ate with us. He laughed with us. He even shared some moments with me that were the bleakest of my life. He provided a friendship for our entire family that I can say for certain will not die out anytime soon.”

Here, I take a deep breath, my heart pounding. “My parents are by no means poor, but they’re not wealthy, either. And treatments are, as anyone can guess, very expensive. I thought we were going to make do, going to stick it out till the end…until one day I discovered that TCP had been providing for us all along. The bi-monthly checks we were receiving paid for everything, including the funeral. And now, because of Levi, my widowed mother can live the rest of her life debt free. She can provide for us, send us to school, give us a good life.”

Levi stands now, and oh, God, I want to hug him. He puts his hands in his pockets and looks up at me, expectant and yet completely uncertain. I realize with a pang in my gut that we are the only two people standing in the entire room.

I take a deep breath—ohmygosh breathing—and smile.

I say the thing, the one that will change everything.

“My name is Bernice Wescott,” I tell Levi, in front of everyone. He laughs with so much joy and surprise that I’m sure the rest of the audience is confused. But this moment, right now, with our smiles overtaking our faces—this is for us. He knows, without a doubt, that this is an offering. An offering of myself. Hi, my name is Bernice, and I’m in love with you, so you should take me back.

“My life has been changed by The Color Project,” I continue, working to keep myself under control. “I want to make sure that this ripple effect continues, and never dies out. In light of everything that I’ve just told you, I hope you will all think hard about your decision here. Actually,” I amend quickly, “it’s not much of a decision at all. If you have to think twice about where to put your money, you definitely shouldn’t be here.

“Thank you,” I conclude, without flair or any sort of style. Then I hand Elle the microphone and start walking. The stairs seem to wobble under my feet, but I follow them down anyway. That’s when I register the (unbelievably loud) applause. I smile, but I’m not going to stop for them.

I’m only going to stop for Levi, if he wants me.

I step through the side door and onto the open patio, where I catch my breath against the railing that follows the steps down into a garden maze. There’s a bench there, out of the light, and no trees to block my view of the stars. I make my way down to it, still wobbly; I’m breathing like I’ve run a mile.

I take the final step, my hand still clutching the rail. I did it. I really did it.

I’m about to jump with my fist in the air, to whoop loudly into the night, when I hear his voice. “Bee.”

I turn. Seeing him at the top of the stairs makes me turn to Jell-O inside.

“Bernice Aurora Wescott,” he begins, drawing out every syllable, marking every vowel and hitting every consonant. The one thing I’ve been so scared to hear him say and it sounds utterly beautiful on his tongue, like the perfect melody. “Bernice Aurora Wescott, my Delectable Girl, why would you ever think it’s okay to say all those nice things and then just leave?”