Page 54 of The Golden Boy’s Guide to Bipolar

“I told you, I’m not gonna testify,” I say for what feels like the millionth time. Yami found out Nick’s trial is coming up,

and Jamal must have mentioned to her that I’m not planning on going.

“He tried to kill you!” Yami says as she paces my room. “Don’t you want him to face consequences?”

I just shrug. I may be ready to face some of my fears, but my jaguar necklace has no bearing on how I never want to see Nick’s face again. “Why should I have to if

there were witnesses? Jamal and Avery are gonna testify. That should be enough.”

“What if it’s not?” She throws up her arms. “What if they get away with it and do the same thing to someone else? What if

they come after you again?”

“Maybe Jamal and Avery’s testimonies will be enough, maybe they won’t. But I just want to enjoy whatever time I don’t have

to think about Nick while I have it, okay? Can we just drop it?”

Yami stops pacing, then reaches for her phone in her pocket and lets out a breath, like she’s trying to make a decision. “Okay,”

she finally says, then pulls out her phone and leaves the room.

That was easier than expected.

I feel like I have to move, so I leave my room too. I know Yami was trying to help, but I’m just anxious now. When I go to

the kitchen to fill up my bottle with ice water, there’s a knock on the door. I expect it to be mail or something, so I take

my time filling up my water instead of answering it.

I guess I take too long, because Yami comes out of her room to get it before I even leave the kitchen. Before either of us

make it to the door, though, there’s another, louder, knock.

I’m not proud to say I recognize the knock. Bianca’s been our neighbor and Yami’s best friend basically our whole lives, and

her “You’re taking too long to answer the door!” knock is distinctive.

“You invited Bianca?”

Instead of answering, Yami stands in front of the door and takes a deep breath before opening it. I follow behind her, more

curious than anything.

“I unblocked your number so you could text me back, not show up at my house,” Yami says as she opens the door.

Bianca just stands there, staring at Yami like she’s a ghost or something.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I don’t know... taking your advice, I guess,” she says hesitantly, then turns to Yami. “I, um, I got your text. I’ll do

it.”

“Do what?” I ask, feeling completely out of the loop. Then again, I guess this is the first time they’re interacting on purpose

since Yami came out.

Finally Bianca looks at me. “I’m gonna testify against Nick. I think I have some shit on him that’ll help.”

“Oh, um... thanks,” I say. No matter how bad I want to avoid thinking about Nick, it’s comforting to know there’s someone else who can vouch for me.

“So, Yami... can we talk?” Bianca asks, nervously shifting her weight between her feet. I wasn’t really trying to give

Bianca advice before, but maybe she really does want to take accountability now.

Yami hesitates for a second before opening the door wider. “Okay.”

Then she goes to her room, and Bianca follows.

I’m almost too shocked to move. I can think of several ways that conversation could go sideways, but I figure I should mind

my own business. I resist the urge to eavesdrop and head to my room, getting out my poetry notebook as a distraction.

Jamal’s open mic is coming up, and I think it’d be a good time for me to branch out. I wrap my fist around my jaguar necklace.

I might not be good at poetry, but I want to practice being more honest. I want to share something I like doing without worrying

about it being perfect. Just poetry for the sake of expression.

I write and write, not bothering to edit as I go, just getting it all out. When I’m done, I feel proud of what I’ve made.

Not because it’s perfect, but because it’s true.

The door to Yami’s room opens just as I’m finishing, so I head over to check on her. Bianca’s on her way out, and she gives

me a little nod that feels almost like a thank you. Then she’s gone.

When I go in Yami’s room, her body language is hard to read. She doesn’t look angry or happy. Maybe just relaxed.

“How did that go?” I ask.

“Good,” she says, looking thoughtful. “I mean, I don’t think we’re ever gonna be friends again, but... I guess I don’t have to waste energy hating her anymore.”

A heavy weight lifts from my shoulders at that. Not because I particularly care about Bianca’s redemption arc, but because

Yami’s not hurting about what happened anymore. Maybe that means there’s hope for everyone I’ve hurt. Maybe they’ll all be

okay, even with me still in the picture.

I refuse to repeat my mistake from last time, so I make sure to invite everyone I know and their mother to Jamal’s open mic

next weekend. It’s just one of many ways I plan to start making things up to him. The other plan involves me walking to the

mall after school to get Jamal a gift as a peace offering. I’ll give it to him tonight for our second-to-last astronomy viewing.

We still have another one to do since we didn’t exactly get a lot of work done last time.

This time, Mami actually lets me go without a chaperone. I think she trusts Jamal enough to know he’ll keep me safe, which

I appreciate.

Once we get to the viewpoint, we climb into the bed of the truck together, this time with a nicer telescope. We sit closer

to each other this time, our shoulders barely touching while we take turns looking at the sky and writing down our trajectories.

It only takes so long before we’re finished, but when we are, neither of us moves to go back in the truck.

Jamal looks at me intensely. “Are you in pain?” he finally asks.

“A little,” I admit, though it’s an understatement. My head still hurts where the rock hit me, and even though the bruises are healing, my whole body is still sore. “Are you?”

“A little... ,” he says as his eyes trail tenderly across different parts of my face, probably from one bruise to the other.

I don’t know how long we’ve just been staring at each other when he breaks the silence.

“Who were you talking about earlier, when you were talking to Bianca? The guy you’re... in love with,” he asks, his eyes

holding an equal amount of fear and hope.

I pause before answering as I reach into my backpack for what I brought him.

Jamal smiles as I pull out a bottle of the “couples” cologne that the mall kiosk lady had originally offered Jamal.

“Took me forever to find this scent, but I figured... if we’re gonna have matching cologne, we might as well use the right

kind, right?”

“Is this your way of asking me out?” Jamal laughs.

“Yeah,” I say with a nervous smile. This was so much smoother in my head. “I still love you, Jamal.”

“I still love you, too,” Jamal says, but his smile fades, and I can’t read his expression anymore. “But I don’t know. I have

a lot of questions.”

“Like what?”

“Are you asking because you’re manic? You just got out of the hospital, so I don’t want to move too fast. I don’t know if

we’re ready yet.”

I think on that for a second. It’s hard to tell if I’m manic or not sometimes, but if Jamal thinks I am, then I don’t want to seem like I’m being impulsive.

“I can be patient,” I finally say. “I don’t always have the right answers, but I want to prove myself to you. We can wait until we’re both sure.”

Jamal brings a tender hand toward a bruise on my cheek. I almost think he’s gonna pull me in for a kiss when he just says,

“Question.”

“Yeah?” I answer breathlessly.

“Why did you do that?” he asks, sad eyes moving from the bruise on my cheek to a cut on my chin.

“Do what?” He could be talking about anything. Why did I write a manic manifesto about suicide? Why did I show up in his neighborhood

that night? Why did I just ask him out?

“Why did you keep antagonizing Nick? Avery and I had it handled. They were going to leave you alone before you hit him.”

Oh. That. “They tried to kill me!” I say defensively, even though that part was exactly what I wanted. “They could have tried

to kill you, too. I wasn’t about to let that happen.”

“They could have killed you!” Jamal’s frustrated tone confuses me.

“I would do anything to protect you, Jamal. That’s why I hurt you in the first place. I know I was misguided, and it was wrong,

but I was trying to protect you. And I wanted to protect you from them, too. It didn’t matter if they’d kill me for it. I

would die for you,” I say, and I mean it.

Jamal touches my cheek again, gently rubbing his thumb along the bruise. “I’d rather you live for me.”

I put my hand over his and close my eyes. That would be easier said than done. But if I want to prove myself to Jamal, I can’t exactly go dying on him. And as long as Jamal’s there to call me at seven o’clock, I can take it one day at a time. “I can do that,” I finally say.

“Promise?” He holds out his pinky.

I nod, and I really mean it. “You’re worth living for, Jamal. I promise.”

I take his pinky in mine.