“You’re welcome,” he says, a tad quiet, but his face is so happy that I don’t know what to do about it, or what to say, or how to process.
I raise my hand in farewell as I get into my car, tucking my purse under the tray between seats, and back out of the spot. I’m gone, too far gone, by the time I realize I forgot to get a phone number or an email address. I left Levi standing there, watching my car disappear around the corner, and I know I’ll have to come back a third time—a fourth, a fifth, a tenth, a millionth—because I can’t just forget about all this. I can’t forget about Levi, not ever.
Chapter 13
My dad sits quietly at the dining room table, eating fried chicken (his true love after growing up in the south) and reading Crime and Punishment again. He’s made very little progress, but I—the annoying book pusher—have to content myself with the fact that he’s made any progress at all.
“Did you just get home?” I ask, because he’s still in his work clothes and has (long-dried) paint on his cheek.
“Yep.” He stands, places his plate in the sink, and washes his hands. “Long day today.”
I frown. “I haven’t seen you, like, all week.”
He also frowns, an exaggerated version of mine. “I know. How’s work and your promotion?”
“It’s…actually really fun. Nerve-wracking, sometimes, but fun.”
He nods in understanding. “You’ll have to make something for your mother and bring it home.”
I smile. “When I get really good at it, I will.”
“And what about this afternoon? Did you have fun, wherever you were?” I assume he heard my phone call with my mom because his eyes are twinkling, teasing.
“Yeah, it was a lot of fun, actually,” I say, hoping he doesn’t bring it up. “Did Tom tell you about this local charity organization?”
“He did not.”
“One of Keagan’s friends runs it. Levi.” I quickly explain TCP while I still have my dad’s full attention. “He’s such a neat guy, Papa. I think you’d really like him.”
“I see. Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”
“Daaaad. I haven’t seen you all week, remember?”
He smirks at me. “Just be thankful you don’t have a criminal record, Bernice.”
“Shh,” I whisper. “Don’t call me that.”
“If that’s the only punishment you get for scaring your poor mother, you deserve it.”
I stick out my tongue at him. “Fine.”
He taps my nose, smiling, despite the exhaustion I see creeping into his eyes. “See you later, Bee. I’m going to bed early.”
“Sounds good. Love you, Papa.”
He hugs me quickly, then leaves to find my mom. I hurry to my room, passing Astrid in the hall. Her smile is fit for the Grim Reaper. “You almost got so busted, Bee. Mom was, like, so close to crying.”
“I wasn’t almost busted,” I argue.
Astrid follows me back to my room and leans against my door frame. “So, a charity, huh?”
“Yeah. You should come with me sometime.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, maybe.” So like Astrid. So…dry.
“I’ll tell you when I go next.”
“All right.”
“Okay, Astrid. Time to close the door.”
“I wasn’t even here,” she says with an air of mystery. “I’m a ninja.”
Then I watch as she pushes off the door, turns around—and runs smack into the doorframe. I burst into a cackling laugh (it rivals the Wicked Witch of the West’s), while Astrid rubs her forehead.
“See? I’m so ninja that the wall didn’t even see me coming.”
I gasp for a full breath amidst lingering giggles. “Go away, you dork,” I manage.
She complies, still rubbing her forehead, huffing an indignant breath.
I shake my head, coming down from the high of laughter, and pull out my phone to check for messages.
Gretchen
You disappeared again.
I hope aliens haven’t invaded California. Let me know if you need me to rescue you.
If I don’t hear back from you in 24 hours, I will DESTROY this planet to find you.
Bee
HA!
Thanks, but there’s no need.
Gretchen
That’d better be because you were on a date with that delectable boy of yours.
Bee
I just snorted out my water, thanks for that.
He’s not my boy, okay?
But.
Gretchen
I WAS RIGHT?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!
Bee
I was with him, yes.
Gretchen
HURRAAAAAAAAY! Is he still as delicious as last time?
Bee
Gretchen, you’re hopeless. He’s not food.
However, I will begrudgingly admit he is delicious. I spent an hour with him, and every moment of it was wonderful.
Gretchen
I seem to be missing something here. So basically…you’re saying it was a date?
Bee
You hush. I went back to The Color Project, to see more of what he does there.
I’d explained TCP to Gretchen over the weekend. While she’d seemed thoroughly impressed, she was far more interested in Levi, which is also probably why she listens eagerly to me explaining what I saw in the interview room today. My fingers hurt from typing everything out, but Gretchen’s reply is worth it.
Gretchen
WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU NOT MARRIED HIM ALREADY?
Bee
Because that’s a bit unorthodox, don’t you think?
Gretchen
He sounds like the most unorthodox nineteen-year-old I’ve ever heard of. Just make a move already. Please. You’re killing me.
Bee
Not happening. Besides, he probably has a girlfriend already. Wouldn’t want to face that humiliation.
I pause. Oh. I really don’t like that thought, not at all. I groan.
Bee
You know what? I hadn’t actually thought about that before.
….
I don’t like it.
Gretchen
Yep, you’re a goner. Nice knowing you, Bee.
Bee
Wow. Gee, thanks.
Gretchen
I was teasing you, dork. You’ll be fine. When will you see him again?
Bee
When do you think?
As soon as I possibly can.
That evening, when I’m helping to clean the kitchen after dinner, I finally get to tell my mom everything about TCP. She’s fascinated, and I think it puts her at ease. (I’m not sure if the worry lines on her face are from me or whatever was bothering her the night I heard her crying. I hope neither.)
“Mom, can you believe he’s nineteen?”
“What?!” She gives me a sharp look. “Is he lying to you?”
I shake my head. “I don’t think so.” Shrugging, I pour the leftover noodles into a Tupperware and slide it into the fridge. “I’m excited to maybe…I don’t know…maybe volunteer a couple of hours a week.”
“Okay honey, I love the idea. Just don’t overwork yourself, especially if Tracy keeps bumping up your hours.”
“I’ll be careful, I promise. But I think it will be a nice way to spend the summer. I don’t know…I think, maybe, TCP could become important to me.”
My mom slips her arm around my waist and hugs me. She’s so short that her head rests on my shoulder. (And I’m usually the short one.) I smile as she says, “Don’t let any pretty boys get you in over your head.”
“Oh, Mama,” is all I say because, honestly, I don’t know how to respond. Anything else would be useless arguing and lies. He really is a pretty boy, and I’m already totally in over my head. “You should come visit with me, sometime.”
“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
Millicent pops her head into the room. “What’s his last name?” she asks.