I take a deep breath. “Levi and I… I asked him to teach me how to fool around.”
Her eyebrows shoot up toward the ceiling. “You just came right out and asked him that?”
“Yup.”
“And he said yeah?”
“We talked about it first, but eventually, yeah, he said yes.”
“That takes courage… How long have you been doing this?”
“A few weeks.”
She squeals. “Are you guys dating?”
“No.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Georgia cocks her head. “Don’t you want more?”
Am I supposed to want more? I don’t know if I do. Why does my relationship with Levi have to be one thing or another? The way Georgia is questioning me, it’s like I’m doing something bad. But it’s my body, my life, my needs. And I’ve been happy.
“I like what I had going with Levi.”
“Had?”
“Today after Hunter found out, Levi said we should probably stop.”
“That stinks.” Sighing, Georgia scoops a big bite of ice cream into her mouth.
“Hunter’s probably right. One of us will end up hurt.” And I’m afraid it might be me.
“Seriously though. How was it?”
I smile, remembering what it’s like to curl up with Levi. He makes me feel fun, sexy, and wanted all at once.
“It was great,” I tell her, and she squeals again, wanting to know all the details. I give her a few—he’s a great kisser and knows what he’s doing with his hands—but the memories feel special, and I want to wrap them up in tissue paper and hide them deep in the memory box in my closet.
She glances at me tentatively. “So you think it’s okay to experiment with a guy and not date him?”
“It was working okay for us…and it felt amazing.”
“God, my mom would kill me if I did that. And could you imagine what the people at church would say? I don’t understand how Hunter and Shelby have been doing the casual thing either. I guess I never figured it was an option for girls.”
I get what she’s saying. There’s definitely a double standard. It seems guys can do whatever they want sexually because boys will be boys. But girls have every right to experiment too. Can’t girls be girls?
I scoop a bite of ice cream. “I think you can experiment. But you both have to be on the same page, or I bet somebody will get hurt.”
“So you and Leaves aren’t going to hook up anymore?” Her forehead crinkles.
“I guess not.”
“But think of all the cute, future Olympian babies you’d have!”
My mouth falls open.
Georgia rambles, “I’ve always thought you guys were perfect for each other but that you weren’t ready yet. Like, you needed to grow a little more.”
She’s not wrong. I think I could definitely come to feel more for him. I mean, I already love him as a friend, but maybe I like him more than that. But there’s no guarantee he would feel the same.
One time at Junior Nationals, I swam against Deanna Rodriguez, a fifteen-year-old who had made the overall US National Team. Right before the start, I questioned whether I should even bother swimming the race, because there was a high probability I would lose. What did I do?
I dove in.
If I were to look deep inside myself and figure out I want more with Levi, I would tell him. But do I?
When Georgia goes home later that night, I swipe on my phone to text Levi.
Good night, I type.
Immediately he writes back Good night M.
? ? ?
Monday morning while waiting for music appreciation class to start, Hunter and I are messing around like we’re back in elementary school.
Hunter plays “Twinkle, Twinkle” on the xylophone, and I’m going to town on the triangle. Our music teacher dresses like a hippie who never left Woodstock and wants us to become one with ourselves, whatever that means, so generally we spend most of class listening to different kinds of music and describing how it makes us feel.
“Your song makes me feel like shit,” Levi calls from across the room, and Hunter and I start playing louder and louder. Other kids groan at how bad we are.
“Hey, listen,” Hunter says. “I’m sorry if I upset you the other day.”
Ding, ding, ding, I play on the triangle. I don’t think anyone can hear us talking thanks to our horrible music. “It’s all right.”
“No, it’s not. I’m wrecked about Shelby and took it out on you and Levi. Did I mess things up for you guys?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “At first I didn’t think it would be hard to stop, but now I’m not sure how I feel about him.”
“Do you think about him when you wake up in the morning?”
“Well, yeah. He’s my ride to practice.”
Hunter gives me a look. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I think about him a lot.”
“That probably means something.”
It could mean something, but it might not. I never had romantic feelings for Levi before we started kissing. What if fooling around with Levi is fueling stronger romantic emotions that may or may not be real? Once it happened, feelings started blooming, as if I threw a bunch of seeds over my shoulder, and a month later, wildflowers were all over my yard. They are beautiful, but not what I had planned. Is that okay? Or will it all grow out of control and mess up our carefully tended friendship? I’m not sure if I ever wanted to tend a garden to begin with. Have the romantic feelings taken over my ability to think rationally?
Not to mention the other emotions that came along with making out: jealousy, when I think of Levi with another girl; insecurity, when I worry I’m asking too much of him and could be negatively affecting our friendship. Are we even Maggie and Levi anymore?
One of my classmates smashes the cymbals together, jerking me from my thoughts.
The music teacher, Mrs. McKean, sails into the room, wearing a long flowing dress and no joke—a turban. I wouldn’t be surprised if she pulls out a crystal ball and tries to tell our fortunes.
She smiles at Hunter and me. “Beautiful song, my friends. You truly belong among the stars that twinkle.”
Levi shakes his head at us. I go sit in the chair next to him and smile cheekily. “Did you hear that? I truly belong among the stars.”
He smiles, but it looks a little pained. I want to ask him if he’s doing okay, but I don’t want to seem overbearing either. That’s another thing that sucks about this murky area between friendship and something more. I question everything I do and say, rather than just act like myself. It’s hard to know who I am with him anymore.
Tuesday morning, I find out what was wrong with Levi. He texted he’s not swimming today. What? He hasn’t missed a day since he sprained his arm in third grade.
His message says: I have a cold.
That is not good. The state championship is in four days!
Feel better, I tell him.
I change into my suit, throw on my sweats, and jog downstairs. Dad is standing there still half asleep as usual, holding my snack bag.
“Dad, Levi can’t go this morning. Can you drive me?”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “Your mom and I have an early pitch session with the mayor’s office about the pajama party, and I need to review our presentation a couple more times.”