Levi

Chapter 1

'What's on your mind?' Donna asked, looking at me with a book in her lap.
Levi. He was all that was ever on my mind.
I looked up from my worn out converse to stare back into a pair of emerald green eyes.
'It's getting colder, isn't it?' I asked, in hopes that she would give it up.
Instead, She smiled at me, tucking a bit of her curly brown hair behind her ear and spoke in a high pitched but somehow, soft voice.
'Do you miss him?'
I turned my head to look at the clock and then my hands, peeling the skin off of the sides of my thumb.
They were simple questions that she'd asked. But somehow, I never seemed to find a simple answer to any of them.
'Talking about it will help, Joanna'
I'd been told that by everyone this past month and it was getting tiring, having to listen to just one thing over and over. I'd managed a month without talking, I preferred not to relive each memory by doing exactly what everyone thought I should do.
'How has school been for you these days?' She asked me, pulling her chair forward.
At this point, I knew she wouldn't stop until I said something, mostly because it was her job to get me to.
'Fine, I guess.'
looking up, I noticed that Donna seemed pleased to have gotten even three words out of me.
'What about Leslie? Have you spoken to her since then?'
I honestly don't recall ever speaking to Leslie. I don't know why she would assume otherwise.
I looked at the clock once again, as My hand reached my lips, peeling the skin off of it.
Twenty more minutes.

'Donna told me you still won't speak to her.' My mom said, letting go of the steering wheel and turning to me.
I looked at her for a moment and then out the window as she sighed and then started the car.
'I know it hurts, honey. But I hate seeing you do this to yourself. If you'd just talk to someone- anyone at all about it, it would get better soon' she looked at me for a quick second before gluing her eyes back onto the road.
Every single day for the past month had been like a repeat of the previous one. I'd meet Donna and then have mom pick me up and try taking me for a movie or to meet a friend. I'd refuse and she'd get upset about how I was 'torturing myself for something that wasn't my fault'. Recently still, she's stopped asking to take me out, probably knowing I'd decline'

It was four in the afternoon and I was in my room, lying on my bed and staring at the off-white ceiling.
I waited in silence, knowing my mom would walk into my room any minute to talk to me about 'it'.
My dad usually sat with me either quietly or he talked about the different places he'd travelled to.
Last night, he talked about his two weeks in India as I pretended to listen, while looking at the floor.
I appreciated how he respected the fact that I didn't want to talk. He never brought it up and always tried to keep my mind off of it.

I heard a knock on my door and closed my eyes, sighing.
Here we go.
My mom poked her head in through the tiny space in between my slightly open door and its frame.
'You okay?' She asked, as I pictured her smiling slightly. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling once again.
'Yeah, mom. I'm fine.' I mumbled lowly.
'I thought maybe you'd like to talk and-' I closed my eyes tight and let out a deep breath as I cut her off.
'He's dead, mom. I don't think talking about it will change that'