“But I’ve never driven all the way to Nashville,” I complain.
“Traffic will be light this time of day, and you can take the back roads. You’ll be fine.”
Jingling my keys, I take a deep breath, climb into the car, and start driving. I make it to the Sportsplex okay, but I’m ten minutes late because I couldn’t bring myself to go over forty miles per hour.
“You’re late,” Coach Josh says, obnoxiously checking his watch.
“Dad made me drive again,” I say, and Coach makes an O with his mouth. That’s the last I hear out of him because he knows driving is punishment enough for me.
School is a little lonely without Levi. I eat lunch with Hunter and Shelby, as well as Georgia, who spends most of the time turned around in her chair, flirting with David who’s sitting at another table. Hunter and Shelby are arguing under their breath right in front of me. I can totally hear everything.
“I don’t see why you won’t come to my cousin’s wedding with me,” Shelby says.
“Because,” Hunter replies, “you know people will ask if I’m your boyfriend.”
“So what?”
“Clearly we’re together. If people don’t think I’m your boyfriend, they’ll assume I’m your boy toy or that I’m using you or something.”
“No, they won’t.”
“Well that’s how I feel. I’m not going unless we make this relationship real already.”
Pain flits across Shelby’s face. “I’m sick of fighting with you.”
“Me, too. Just go out with me.”
“Hunt, I’ve told you, I’m scared. I can’t handle long distance. Let’s keep this casual.”
“If we’re casual, there’s no reason for me to go with you to a family wedding.”
Awkward. I want to smush their heads together and make them kiss and tell them to stop their foolishness. Yeah, he’s going away in three months, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be together.
I decide to text Levi: School without you is pure torture He writes back: I miss you too. x
I stare down at my phone. Is that little x a kiss? The other day he said we can’t hook up anymore, but now he’s texting me kisses? Has the sickness ravaged his brain? Maybe it’s a typo. I nod to myself. Typo. Totally.
The day gets even weirder when Noah, the basketball player Levi doesn’t like, waits for me outside calculus class.
“Did you understand any of that about infinity limits?” he asks.
“Not a bit.”
He walks me down the hall. “You seem different, Maggie.”
“Different how?”
“Relaxed and happy. To be honest, you’re kind of a hard girl to get to know.”
“Really?” I’ve always tried to be nice to people.
Noah scratches the top of his head, peeking at me sideways. “I mean, Levi’s around all the time, and that’s kind of intimidating… Plus you’re so serious and focused.”
“I kind of have to be. Swimming is my life.”
“Whatever you’re doing different, I like it.” He winks and takes off down the hall toward a group of basketball players carrying on about a pick-up game after school.
By the time afternoon swim practice is over, I’m feeling more confident in my driving abilities, so I stop by Foothills Diner to get some soup for Levi. When I get to his house, Oma greets me at the door. She grabs Pepper’s collar as the dog sniffs the paper bag containing chicken soup and warm bread.
“How is he?” I ask Oma.
She gives me a knowing smile. “Behaving like any other sick man—acting like it’s the end of the world.”
I climb the stairs to his room. Without knocking I go in and find him watching a dirt bike race on TV. His bed is covered in tissues. A book called The Raven Boys is sitting on his quilt. He’s wearing a hoodie and mesh shorts, and thick socks cover his feet.
When he sees me, he drags himself to an upright position. “Hey.”
“Don’t overdo it,” I say, moving to sit next to him. I push him forward so I can fluff the pillow behind his head. “I brought you soup.”
“Between you and Oma, my blood is gonna be made of soup.”
“You’re welcome.”
He smiles a little and coughs. The skin around his nose is red.
“Will you be able to swim on Saturday?” I ask.
“Nothing’s keeping me out of that pool.” He coughs again.
Seeing him like this, all flushed and sad and worn out, I can’t help but cradle his cheek and kiss his forehead. When I pull away, he gives me a funny look.
“Don’t get too close,” he says. “You might catch whatever I’ve got.”
“I never get sick. I’ll risk it.”
Levi points at a bottle of antibacterial gel on the nightstand. “At least use some of that. It’s Oma’s.”
After lathering up my hands, I open the plastic soup container and pass it to him. He practically inhales the broth.
“You want to watch a movie or something?” I ask, taking the empty plastic container and setting it next to his pile of Harry Potters.
“I’m actually kinda tired.” He lies back down and pulls the covers up around his waist, then pats my knee. “Do you want to stay for a little bit? Tell me about your day?”
I go around to the other side of the bed, sweeping his tissues aside, and crawl in, but stay on top of the covers to avoid germs—karma could catch up with me. I lather up with the hand gel again, cozy up next to him, and rest a hand on his chest. He cradles my hand in his and shuts his eyes. With my other hand, I play with his hair. It’s gotten so long it nearly reaches his chin. Pretty soon he’ll look like Pepper.
“You should let me put little braids in your hair,” I tease.
“I’d look stupid.”
“You’d look sexy. My sexy shark.”
He shifts under my hand on his chest. “Don’t turn me on.” He laughs, but it turns into another cough. “I’m ill.”
“I figured a guy wouldn’t let a little cold get in the way of sexy times.”
“You’re right. I must be dying.”
“You’re not dying.”
“Lesson number three: Guys always want it. Except for when they are dying.”
We lie curled up together talking until his mom comes home earlier than usual. She appears in the doorway, dressed in a black power suit and red skyscraper high heels, carrying a tray with a bowl and a book.
I pull my hand out from under his and sit up, smoothing my hair. Ms. Lucassen considers me for a long moment. She’s found us lounging on his bed listening to music and hanging out before, but never holding hands.
Levi’s eyes flutter open, and he says hi to his mom, who fusses over him like I did, feeling the temperature of his forehead and fluffing his blankets.
“I brought you some soup and the next book in that Raven series you’re reading,” she says, and he moans, “Not more soup,” but immediately digs into it.
“I should go,” I say, getting to my feet. “I still need to do homework.”
“See you Saturday at the meet,” Ms. Lucassen says.
Outside his room, I start down the stairs, but remember I left my gloves on his dresser. I am heading back up when I hear them talking.
“Is something going on with you and Maggie?” his mom asks.
“No.”
“Are you sure about that?”
How do moms always know?