Mirabel takes her hand from mine and steers right into the middle of the hallway where the Kyles are thundering down.
“Move!” shouts one Kyle.
“Shit!” shouts the other Kyle even though Mrs. Radcliffe does not like us to say swears.
One Kyle swerves to avoid Mirabel, slams against the lockers, and falls down. The other Kyle does not see Mirabel because the first Kyle did not swerve away in time, so the second Kyle runs right into Mirabel’s wheelchair and falls down too. Mirabel’s wheelchair does not fall anywhere because it is heavy, and Mirabel gives them both a look that means smug, embarrassed for them, and they should be ashamed of themselves, but they are not her sisters and were not paying attention when Mrs. Radcliffe was doing facial expression cards this week so they might not notice.
“Why did you park there? We were in the middle of kicking that kid’s ass,” says Kyle.
Mirabel does three quick taps on her tablet. “That is why.”
“Now we have to start over,” says the other Kyle.
Mirabel starts typing out a reply to that, but the first Kyle says he is hungry, and the second says he is too. They have had feelings of love for Mirabel for years, but these are not as powerful as the feelings of hunger they have had for seconds. “We’ll bring you back a donut,” they promise her. Then they leave.
But the running feet and falling down and slamming into lockers made a lot of noise, so the tutoring-room door opens, and many people look out.
I take three deep breaths to help my surprised howl stay away, and then I tell everyone about River and the chasing and the blood and the Kyles, but I can guess they do not care because they do not say anything and they all go back inside.
Except for Mab.
Mirabel looks at her.
“Don’t look at me like that,” says Mab.
“Like what?” I ask. I can see how Mirabel is looking at Mab, but I cannot see what it is like.
“Why do you even care?” Mab says.
“Care about what?” I ask.
Mirabel keeps looking at Mab the way she was looking at Mab before.
“Not his fault,” Mirabel’s Voice says quickly, so I can guess that was what she had started to type to the Kyles before they got hungry.
“What is not his fault?” I ask. I do not ask Whose fault?, even though Mirabel did not say, because I can guess it is River, and my sisters do not like when I ask too many questions.
“I never said it was,” says Mab.
“Help him,” says Mirabel’s Voice.
“How?” says Mab.
Mirabel’s Voice does not answer that question but instead answers a different question. “You can.”
“Not my problem,” Mab says anyway.
I do not say anything because that is true but it is not kind, and Mirabel does not say anything, maybe for the same reason, so Mab says, “I’m like half his size. If he can’t stop them, how can I stop them?”
“Numbers,” Mirabel’s Voice says.
Even Mab does not know what this means which it is nice when I am not the only one.
Mirabel sighs, which means frustrated, and types, “Safety in.”
“Two is not a number,” Mab says.
“Lie,” I say because two is a number.
“You know what I mean,” Mab says.
“Lie,” I say.
Mab turns to me. “She thinks River’s vulnerable alone, but with me by his side, surely we can take them.”
“Who can you take?” I ask.
“Exactly,” Mab says.
Which does not answer my question so in case she is not in a question-answering mood, I decide to skip right to the important one. “His face is sad and hurt and bleeding, One. Why would not you help him?”
“It’s complicated.” She looks confused, but I do not know why she would be. “You know?”
“No,” Mirabel’s Voice and I say at the same time.
“He says he can’t stop thinking about me. He writes me notes in class. He’s always looking at me.”
Now it is my turn to sound confused because I am confused. “Why does that mean you do not want to help him?”
“He’s evil,” Mab says.
“It is more accurate to say his family is evil,” I correct.
“And he said he was going to find some proof or something,” Mab says, “something we can use.”
Mirabel’s hand flips out, palm up, which means So what? which is a good question.
“So if he does … I don’t know…” Mab says. “I want him to do it because it’s the right thing to do, not because he likes me.”
“Why does it matter why he does it if he does it?” I ask.
“Because otherwise that makes me the jerk.” Mab pulls the sleeves of her hoodie down over both of her hands as if she is cold. “Otherwise, I used him and manipulated his feelings to get what I want.”
I consider this. “That is bad,” I say. “But it is not as bad as letting him get beat up.”
“I’m not letting him.” She waves her hands around but her hands are all tucked in so she waves her sleeves around instead.
“Maybe his family is evil,” I say, “but ours is not.”
Mirabel points at me which means I am correct. “Right thing to do,” her Voice says.
“According to who?” Mab asks, but I do not know why since she knows who Mirabel’s Voice speaks for.
Mirabel holds up her hand with her fingers out wide. Five. Two plus Three. She means according to her and according to me.
Mab’s sleeves flop into a shrug. “Who died and put you in charge?” she says, but then she stops saying anything because she does not need to be in a question-answering mood for us all to hear the answer to that question in our heads anyway. She tucks her sleeves under her armpits. “Sorry,” she says. She does not mean because she does not want to help River. She does not mean because he is getting beat up. She means because she accidentally said that hard, sad thing, and it made everyone feel bad.
“It is okay,” I say so she will not feel worse.
But Mirabel is typing. “I know how you can make it up to me.”
Three
I spend a lot of time listening. As a result, I might be the world’s leading expert on annoying conversational tics. The list of irritatingly misapplied clichés people utter would take me more hours to type out than I have left to live, but near the top is the conversational gambit “There are two kinds of people in this world…” There are two kinds of people in this world: the ones who split the world into two kinds of people, and the ones who know that’s reductive and conversationally lazy.
With this exception: There are two kinds of people in this world. People who can expect to, strive to, feel entitled to be happy. And people who cannot.
The rest of the dichotomies are meaningless beside that one. Look through history for the latter. Look around your town or city. You will find us everywhere. We are legion.
Of course, everyone’s unhappy sometimes. But some people’s barriers to happiness are considered surmountable. They resolve to get in shape, find a therapist, make time for family, read more, go back to school, save money. We advise them, if they are our friends or our family, to find a new job, go to yoga, quit drinking, move out, try online dating, hire a personal stylist, buy a bigger house. You deserve it, we say. Put yourself first for a change. You be you.