I see Levi.
I walk across our little corner of the beach, in our corner of the country, in our corner of the world, and I smile at him. A little hesitant, a little uncertain. But I say, anyway, “Can I ask you…um…a kind of…strange question?”
He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I like strange questions. Shoot.”
I take a deep breath. “Why do you wear bright sweaters?”
I’m pretty sure his face glows, set off by the moon, or by his happiness, or by something magic in the air that’s also affecting me, filling my heart. “I was just waiting for you to ask!” he says, laughing. “You kept staring at my clothes.”
Me, internally: I’m so relieved that you think I was staring at your clothes, of all things.
Me, externally: “Well, everyone seemed to know why except me, but I didn’t know how to ask without it coming off as weird…so…”
He smiles. “Will you let me show you?”
To this, of course, I nod.
“How about right now?”
There isn’t a single thing I want more than that, but still, I raise one eyebrow. “It’s almost eleven.”
“Yeah, but if you come to the office tonight, you’ll get to see everything all lit up.”
He has an office. Of course he does.
After a pause, I nod. “All right, but this better not be a prank,” I say, thinking of all the trouble Tom would get up to just for a scare.
Levi just laughs. I pretend I’m not affected by his laugh, that it doesn’t make me want to laugh with him. “Okay then…” I say, but I’m still hesitant. “Not a prank?”
“No.” He tilts his head to the side as if observing me, watching my expression change from worry to happiness. “Definitely not a prank.” He blinks, eyes catching the moonlight. “Do you have any ideas?”
“Not one.”
Levi grins, turning once more to the ocean, his shoulder brushing mine. “Good,” he says. “It’s better that way.”
Chapter 10
Tom drops us off on the corner of Escondido Blvd. and 10th Ave., which makes me suspicious. “I thought you said we were going to an office?” The only buildings I know along these roads are restaurants and thrift stores and hair salons. (And Levi’s house.)
“We are,” Levi replies, getting out.
Tom waves me out of the car. “I’ll see you at home,” he says, and the second my door is shut he drives away. Levi promised to take me home, and while I mostly trust him, it still feels a bit weird to be left alone with a Boy on a dark road at midnight. (Thing You Should Know About Me #33: I’m not a rebel.)
Levi motions for me to follow him, so I do—only a few steps down the block. He stops at a dark building, its glass doors and large windows completely black. Unlocking the front door, he holds out a hand to stop me from following. “Take a step back and look up.”
I do as he says. He steps inside, folding into the dark building like he never existed, and I swallow hard. “Levi?” I call out.
A second later, I’m blinded. Colored lights brighten this corner of the street, bathing me in a rainbow. The sign across the top of the building reads THE COLOR PROJECT, in bright, curling, bold letters. It’s shocking, mostly because I was not expecting this much light, but also because I’ve passed this place a million times and never thought about it once.
Now that there’s some light, I can (sort of) see Levi inside: his outline, his yellow sweater, half of his face. He smiles, waving—or is that him gesturing for me to come inside?
“I’ve driven past this place before,” I call to him, looking up at the bright sign again.
He steps into the open doorway, raising one eyebrow, and his mouth quirks in that way of his. He sweeps his wavy, messy, brilliant hair off his forehead. “Want to see inside?”
“Yes,” I say, a little breathless, and join him. When he flicks the light switch, and all the fluorescents flicker into existence, I notice five things in rapid succession.
First: the enveloping brightness of the room, blues and greens and oranges, all swirling on the walls.
Second: the toys in the corner, organized inside wooden cubbies.
Third: the window to an office, and a closed door beside that, set up like a doctor’s office.
Fourth: the flecks of glitter on the ground. It’s not inlaid; rather, it needs to be swept off the floor. I wonder about it for two seconds before I’m distracted by Levi lifting himself onto the counter protruding from the office window. He kicks his legs out once and then crosses them at the ankles.
Fifth: Levi.
He just happens to be my favorite thing, out of all of this. He’s watching me closely, his expression equal parts pride and joy and contentment.
“Is this, like, a second job?” I ask.
He waves me over, grabbing my hand as I attempt to lift myself onto the counter. Considering my legs are not nearly as long as his, it takes more than one effort. Finally, when I’m firmly seated beside him, I cross my ankles like him and let go of his hand.
“The Color Project is…everything to me.” His shoulders curve a little, in a humble way. “It’s a charity. People in the community come here, apply for whatever they need, and we provide the money or help via our sponsors.”
I make a choked noise as I turn my head so I can look up at him. He looks down at me, meets my gaze, and I try to shut my surprised, open mouth. “Levi.”
The smile he gives me is the best one yet. “I love it here.”
“I’m so…surprised. Amazed?” What is the right word I’m looking for? Looking around me, I ask, “How…how does it work?”
“You can pick up an application either from the box outside or the front desk. I have volunteers, ages fifteen to twenty-five, who come in at three-thirty every day and answer the phone, meet walkins, and sometimes conduct interviews.
“When someone applies, we look at how much money they need and figure out where they are on the waiting list. Well, first we do background checks. There have been a few sneaky liars, but for the most part, everyone checks out. Then we compare it with how much money we have coming in. We have a stable monthly income from consistent sponsors, plus extra donations that come from random people throughout the year. We never turn anyone down, of course,” he adds, answering my next question, “but if there’s ever a budget deficiency, we put the least pressing applications on a special wait list. Anyway, when we have the funds for the next applicants, we call them in for an ‘interview’—” Levi makes quotations with his fingers “—and give them a check.”
I let it all sink in, trying to close my gaping mouth. “I can’t believe this,” I say.
He looks sheepish. “I’m hoping for a bigger facility someday, but right now this is all we can afford. We’re growing in sponsors every month, though, so that’s good. More people are willing to give than I expected.”