One for the Team

21| before

Levi's talking and I'm thinking how much more weight my eyelids can put on. I have absolutely no idea what he's saying. I want to, if that makes it any better, but I don't. I'm so tired, my body doesn't even mind the roughness of the tiles underneath me. I'm halfway gone.

Levi doesn't mind. I think he's talking me to sleep. The sun is setting behind the houses across the street, and the sky is tinged in orange and purple and pink, but I'm willing to miss it. I'm too tired not to.

I've been waking up before sunrise, so early I sometimes feel sick. I go over to Miss Hawthorne's house, who by then is already awake with a cup of black coffee in her hands, and all kinds of horrible things in her head, which she makes sure to share with me every time. Sometimes I think about telling her to shut the fuck up. Just shut the fuck up.

She mentioned Levi once. Said they don't make men like they used to anymore. I think about the men she's talking about, maybe the ones she raised, the ones who never visit or call. I wonder if those are the men out of stock. I think what a fucking shame. What a fucking sad story. I don't tell her any this of course, and I don't tell Levi either, who insisted that I take the job at his parents' bakery, and then started stopping by to help out all the time when I finally did. 

He goes on talking next to me. The box of pizza we ordered is empty and greasy, and our stomachs are full, but Levi's still sipping from the bottle of apple cider I brought him. He's probably going to clean it afterward and try to grow plants out of it on his windowsill of his bedroom. That's the kind of man who'll still call his mother after he moves out and visit every chance he gets.

The wind blows and I pull the hood of my sweatshirt closer to my ears. This is probably the first time I've stopped to breathe in the past few weeks. I've figured if I'm always busy I have no time to think about the fact that my dad left us for good, that he hasn't called yet, that maybe he never will again. I go from one thing to the other, Miss Hawthorne, school, volleyball, the bakery, Archie, my mom. I don't stop. Except today.

"Gotta love the fact that hanging out just means napping to you." Levi laughs. This time I hear him.

"Napping next to you," I say, and then I realize it sounds gay. It sounds very gay. "And it means pizza, and alcohol, and the sunset."

Sure, because that doesn't sound gay at all.

Levi sits up straight. I open my eyes to look at him. He's wearing a nice pair of jeans and a nicer colorful sweater that's definitely too big for him. His nails are green, and his curls are a mess because of the wind, and he's smiling at me.

"Good save," he says.

I sit up too. I'm aware my own hair is also a mess under the hood of my sweatshirt. Aware of the stupid unicorn band-aids on my elbows and knees. Milo said the normal ones didn't do me justice when he went to get them for me. Said no real skater falls off stairs like that. In my defense, I was in a hurry.

I'm looking straight at Levi, half of me arguing the straight part of it, "Save from what?"

I don't know why I'm asking this. I know I'm tired. I know I'm not excited about anything in my life at the moment. Except for this. Whatever this is.

Levi's smiling in a confused way. He doesn't know what to say. I don't either. He finishes his drink and then leans his head to the side.

"From sounding like you have a crush on me," he says.

"What if I do?"

He laughs. He thinks I'm joking.

"Don't laugh. It's a legitimate question."