The early morning breeze that blew across Asher Bernstein's face was cold. Most people were still asleep, which Asher didn't mind. He spent most mornings with Levi Cohen, and this weather was typical. The small park where they met was between their apartments, the only location they could agree was fair. They would see each other at school, at temple, at each others' homes, but they never had time to themselves. Sneaking didn't come naturally to either boy, but they had grown adept at it anyway. Asher's parents were overbearing and Levi's were nosy, a lethal combination for two teenagers craving independence.
He rounded the corner and grinned as he saw his friend waving from the swing set. His heart swelled at the sight. Levi's face felt like one Asher could pick out in any crowd, he knew it so well. The loose brown curls that Levi fought with every day, his high cheekbones, the horn rimmed glasses that were too big for his face, foggy in the cold air.
Asher jogged to the swings, stopping just in front of Levi. "Hey," he grinned.
Levi smiled up at Asher over his glasses. "Hey," he repeated softly. He had always been the softer-spoken of the pair. To the untrained eye, the two seemed to be an odd friendship. Even at just shy of 13, Asher was almost a foot taller. Levi was more suited to staying inside to read, while Asher excelled at almost any sport. Inseparable as they were, people didn't seem to understand what common ground they could possibly have.
Asher sat in the unoccupied swing, kicking the dirt under his feet softly. He reached out his right hand without looking, wrapping his gloved hand around Levi's cold fingers.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Silence was rare for Asher, but he appreciated moments like these. Especially when they were spent with Levi. Occasionally they would hear a car coming and quickly drop their arms to their sides, but their hands always found their way together again.
"So," Levi was the first to break the silence. "Are you nervous about tomorrow?"
Asher groaned and leaned backwards in the swing, nearly flipping over. "I don't want to talk about it," he complained.
Levi laughed softly, tugging Asher's hand and pulling him upright again. "It isn't that bad. You were at my Bar Mitzvah, you saw. You'll be fine. Plus, your grandpa is the Rabbi. He won't let you screw up."
Asher dropped Levi's hand just before a beige car rolled past the park. Hadn't that one gone by a few minutes ago? Tourists got lost in their neighborhood a lot. Asher hated tourists. He scowled, kicking a pile of dirt. "I don't want to talk about it," he repeated.
Levi took his hand again, squeezing softly. He ducked his head down to catch Asher's gaze, and his glasses slid lopsidedly down his face.
Asher laughed despite himself, feeling his heart soften. He reached out and adjusted the glasses on Levi's face, who blushed a soft pink. The air between them felt electric, and it made Asher's stomach do backflips.
The watch on Asher's wrist began beeping, the signal that he had to leave for home to not get caught. He jumped, startled out of the moment. Levi chuckled softly.
They both stood, awkwardly leaving the park with a wave. Asher jogged away, while Levi took a more leisurely stroll.
At his quick pace, it was only a minute or two before Asher made it to his apartment building. Another minute more, and he had scaled the fire escape and clambered back through his window. He glanced at the digital clock on his nightstand. 6:32, right on time. He shed his jacket and sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for his mother to knock.
His room was small, but comfortable. His bed sat in the corner closest to the window, his desk on the opposite wall. It was covered in crumpled homework, forgotten permission slips, textbooks with dog-eared pages. A cardboard model rocket sat on his bookshelf, a remnant of his year-long obsession with space when he was five. Early morning sunlight was softly filtering through the window, casting a golden patch on his blue rug.
Asher stood and moved to the mirror by the door. He adjusted his dark hair, flipping it one direction experimentally before flipping it back. Too risky. He frowned at the face in the glass. It seemed like every day, he found something new to frown at. Yesterday had been his eyes. Too dark, too big, too round. The day before, his nose. It stuck out too far, and was too straight. Today, it was the mole on his cheek. He had too many of those, he decided. So did his father, and his sister. Girls often thought he was handsome, but he wasn't one to agree.
A sharp knock came from the door next to him. "Asher, wake up!" his mother called loudly from the other side.
"I'm up, Ma!" he hollered back.
The door cracked open and his mother's head poked through, glancing around the room. She smiled at him upon seeing that he was telling the truth. Her brown hair was streaked with silver in a few places, her messy curls pulled into a giant clip on the back of her head. "Well come get breakfast!" She backed into the hallway again and shut the door. Asher could hear her moving to his sister Chava's room next, who got a much gentler wake-up call.
"How was school, Asherleh?" his mother asked, shocking him out of his daze as she handed him a bowl of chicken soup.
He shrugged as he grabbed it, avoiding her eyes. "Fine, I guess." Asher had spent the whole day panicking about tomorrow. He didn't remember one thing from class, he had practically been in a fugue state of worry. Despite a genuine effort over the past year, he hadn't memorized even half of what he was meant to recite. He stuffed his mouth full before his mother could ask anything else.
His parents exchanged a look as his mother sat down.
Chava kicked Asher's leg softly. "Don't be a brat," she chided. She was right. Chava was only 10, but Asher thought of her as the smart one anyway.
"Sorry, Ma," Asher grumbled.
