You Don't Know Everything, Jilly P!: Chapter 16–Three Years After That

The room smells a little musty, like someone used to store old files in here.

I think about going up to say hi to Derek, but before I can muster the nerve to do anything about it, the lights flicker overhead.

I nod slowly and smile a smile that grows until I feel like it’s taking over my face. I try to pull the corners of my mouth back in and then I’m sure that I’m grimacing.

“Care for a candy?” Karina asks, and starts rummaging in the bottom of her bag.

I distract myself with some kid’s post that Roses & Thrones is going to end with Orthor claiming rulership of the land, and I’m four paragraphs into an impassioned response about just how wrong she is, when I hear the jingle that announces a new chat window. I stop typing immediately.
profoundinoaktown has invited you to the secluded banks of the River Valor.

I distract myself with some kid’s post that Roses & Thrones is going to end with Orthor claiming rulership of the land, and I’m four paragraphs into an impassioned response about just how wrong she is, when I hear the jingle that announces a new chat window. I stop typing immediately.
profoundinoaktown has invited you to the secluded banks of the River Valor.

Christmas morning is a flurry of presents. I get some great stuff, including a scooter, a wooden jewelry box and a beautiful necklace and bracelet with purple amethyst stones to go in it, a gift card for buying music online, four graphic novels, an amazing purple Magically Mysterious Vidalia fleece jacket, Vidalia pens and stationery, a Vidalia coloring book, and a huge poster of Gwenella that I’m going to hang on the ceiling of my bedroom.

“Probably olive oil.”
“Blech.”
“Don’t knock nature’s greatest emollient. By the way, what’s red and invisible?”

A chat box opens soon after.
profoundinoaktown has invited you to a bench by Lake Serene. Enjoy your privacy.

We giggle at that and pretend to gallop on imaginary steeds, saying, “Come on, stallion! Buck up now!” and “Giddyup, Mr. Franks, we have ropin’ to do.”

Macy turns off at her house and I continue my ascent up Oakland Avenue. The house is empty when I get there.

And dusting? Please. That’s just getting the particles all riled up and excited to settle in new places in the room.

“But...but...” Dad raises both his eyebrows and shoulders in a farce of surprise. “If you aren’t going to be a professor or a mechanic, what will you possibly do in the world? There aren’t, gasp, other jobs out there?” He actually says the word gasp.

“And you’d still be working with your hands!” said Dad. “Sounds perfect! Now what’s for dinner? I’m so hungry I could eat a house.” You misunderstand one cliche once when you’re six years old, and your parents still bring it up another six years later.

Dad mimics the pop cover of “Anarchy in the U.K.” as he cleans up in the kitchen, complete with dance moves that involve a lot of snapping his fingers and waving his arms around.

JillyinP: hey profound
Instantly, a chat window opens up.
profoundinoaktown has invited you to an unoccupied oasis in the Desert of Desolation.

JillyinP: hey profound
Instantly, a chat window opens up.
profoundinoaktown has invited you to an unoccupied oasis in the Desert of Desolation.

Sunday evening, there’s a vigil for Jessica Johnson at Lake Merritt. Mom, Aunt Alicia, Aunt Joanne, and I all go.

The mass of people tapers off on either side into a single row stretching out along the lakefront. I wonder how many bodies it would take to line the whole lake. And I wonder if Derek is in that constellation of grief.

Not long after that, a woman’s amplified voice welcomes us from the stage and thanks us for coming. She introduces herself as Kat. Off to the right, a tall woman interprets into American Sign Language.

Kat introduces Reverend DuBois, a pastor from a church in West Oakland. He is a tall man wearing a full suit and a hat with a small feather tucked into the band. His candle lights half of his face with a soft orange glow. He talks about the importance of gathering to grieve, and the value of coming together to support each other.

"And now, before we move on to open comments,” says Kat, “I'd like to welcome Deaf Beats, a dance troupe from the California School for the Deaf in Fremont, where Jessica Johnson was a senior.”

A group of twenty teenagers wearing black and orange quickly assembles into a block of four by five in front of the stage. Derek is one of them, in the third row on the right. They stomp their feet in unison, clap their hands in rhythm, and raise their fists with Deaf pride.

I don't see Derek again until he’s in front of me, asking if I want to go for a walk. I let Mom know which way we’re going, and we meander away from the group.

“Happy biiiiiiirthday, dear Emma.” Only the Deaf couple signs dear, but we all wave our Es in the air.
“Happy birthday to you.”
“And many more,” Dad croons.

“What about Blinky?” Aunt Alicia asks, slowly fingerspelling the trickster chameleon’s name. “I don’t see her on the cover at all.”

Derek and I keep to our schedule and finish Roses & Thorns at 11:00 p.m. on Sunday night. By the end, Vidalia enters an age of peace and joy. The land is saved and Cecil the Basilisk is banished from the realm.

Derek and I keep to our schedule and finish Roses & Thorns at 11:00 p.m. on Sunday night. By the end, Vidalia enters an age of peace and joy. The land is saved and Cecil the Basilisk is banished from the realm.

A guy in bright yellow sneakers runs the length of the diving board but misses the end and falls splat-first into a pool of whipped cream. Emma’s boisterous giggles make me laugh even harder than I already am, and then she sees me laughing and bursts into a new peal, even though the show has broken to commercials and all we’re watching now are a series of families with perfect hair convincing us that only their product will get a countertop back to its whitest white.

A guy in bright yellow sneakers runs the length of the diving board but misses the end and falls splat-first into a pool of whipped cream. Emma’s boisterous giggles make me laugh even harder than I already am, and then she sees me laughing and bursts into a new peal, even though the show has broken to commercials and all we’re watching now are a series of families with perfect hair convincing us that only their product will get a countertop back to its whitest white.