“Were you eavesdropping, M&M?”
She gives me her most innocent smile, batting her eyelashes. “No, really. What’s his last name?”
“I…actually don’t know.”
“I think it should be Berenstein.”
“…why?”
She heaves a romantic sigh. “Bernice Berenstein,” is all she says, and it’s all she has to say. I lunge at her, a teasing snarl on my lips.
She screeches and jumps back. “Don’t kill me!” she shouts as she runs, a squeal escaping her. “Don’t kill me don’t kill me don’t killllll me!”
I tackle her on the couch, pinning her down. “I’m not going to kill you, but I will take my sweet time torturing you.”
She screams and laughs as I run my fingers up and down her ribs. “STOP! STOP! BEE, STOP IT!”
I finally get off her, adjusting my t-shirt and my glasses, which tilted awkwardly in the fray. “Millicent May, be thankful I’m not a terrible person.”
She giggles, standing up again, backing away. She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, then closes it. Then says with an accompanying giggle, “Mrs. Berenstein.”
I laugh, a little too loud, but I can’t help it. “God, that is awful.”
“I know,” she says, grinning like she’s told the funniest joke in the history of jokes.
I roll my eyes. “You should get out of here before I bury you in tickles.”
She shrieks one last time before darting out of the room. I glance over at my mom, who is squinting at me, a tiny smile on her pretty lips. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Nothing.” And she turns back to the stove.
But I’m still thinking about Levi, and his eyes on me, everything about him made from pure joy and delight and I just want to wrap myself in it, in him. I have to remind myself to breathe. “Mom?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Would it be weird if I liked him?”
She glances at me. “No, not really. I like him already, and I haven’t even met him. He’s a potential Precious Heart, you know?”
“You’re not allowed to like him. You’re too old and you have Dad.” I sigh. “And yes, yes I do know.”
She sticks out her tongue at me.
I laugh and slump against the fridge door, staring blindly at the back of my mom’s head as I wonder: What if some things are unavoidable? What if this is the ebb and flow of destiny?
If it is, destiny doesn’t sound half bad.
My mom has this Thing With People. There are Precious Hearts, and then there are…Regular People.
She can spot these Precious Hearts instantly, smell them a mile away, because she is one. (She’d deny it to her grave, but…case in point.) The group consists of people like Florence Nightingale, Martin Luther King Jr., Mother Teresa, Anne Sullivan, Marie Curie, Denzel Washington, and Lin-Manuel Miranda. They are people who give and teach and express love in ways that inspire the rest of us to do more, to be better.
I cannot deny that Levi could easily make that list.
(If I’m really honest, he already has.)
I lie awake in bed that night, eyes on the ceiling, my mind not-so-far-away in TCP’s office, imagining meeting the rest of the volunteers. And even though Missy’s a drama queen, I wouldn’t mind working with her.
I roll over onto my side with my arms tucked around my pillow like it’s a lifeline. Even as I mull over everything…serious Grown Up Things like my future and college…despite it all, I fall into a deep sleep.
Behind my eyelids, I dream of Missy and Levi arguing over the last donut in a once-full box. Uneaten, it frowns at them, clearly unamused. Then it bursts into glitter just before I wake up.
Chapter 14
Here’s the thing about fighting: In my house, unless it’s between us siblings, we don’t hear it much. My parents, while far from perfect, don’t fight all that often. When I look at them, I see exactly what I want to have with someone, someday. They argue and have their moments, but I believe, in the end, their love is what counts the most.
So when I hear them fighting later in the week, I halt in the middle of the kitchen so I can listen. (Thing You Should Know About Me #249: Sometimes I have no qualms about eavesdropping. It might be terrible, but hey, at least I’m honest about it.) My parents, I discover quickly, have locked themselves into their bedroom, conversing in loud whispers and rushed words. Even though I put my ear by the door for a few minutes, I can’t make out a single thing they say. I leave when my mom starts crying, her sobs creating an ache in my chest that makes me feel hollow.
So I do the first thing I can think of—I get in my car. I drag my sisters with me, too, and I text both of my parents to let them know we’ve gone out. The girls protest—Astrid because she’s stubborn, and Millicent because she’s crying.
“They’re going to get a divorce. I just know it!” Millicent wails.
Despite my own worry, I almost laugh. Meet Millie, the resident Drama Queen. “What makes you think that, Millie?”
She wails some more. “First last week, then the other day, now today—I just know it!”
“Would you calm down?” Astrid scolds against the sound of Millicent sniffling.
“Millie, I highly doubt they’re getting a divorce. All parents fight.” I don’t admit to her that I’m also upset by what I heard. Or, in this case, what I didn’t hear. Being left in the dark about something so tense makes my nerves go haywire.
“This is the fourth time in two weeks!” Millie protests, as if that proves everything.
I shake my head, feigning control, and buckle my seatbelt. I don’t respond until I’ve pulled out of the driveway. I’m trying to remember the last time my parents fought so much. “Stop, Millie,” I finally say. “You’re not helping anything.”
“Where are we going, then?” she asks, still through tears.
“I don’t know,” I answer, but really I do. I want to check if Levi is at TCP, even though there’s a chance he’s working at Mike’s. Still, I want my sisters to see the place, to meet him, to see what I saw. I think that—with a little change of scenery—Millie will grow back her usual smile and Astrid will lose her bad attitude.
It’s not going to be easy. Astrid lets out a low groan when I pull up to the building a few minutes later. “Are we seriously going to see your boyfriend?”
I groan as I exit the car, realizing that I’m going to have to change tactics if I want this to work. “No, because I don’t have a boyfriend. I’m taking you to get donuts down the street. And then I’m going to take you to The Color Project to see if I can get a phone number from Levi.”
“You can’t just go to the car shop and, like, ask Keagan?” Astrid points out.
I bite back a retort. “No. I don’t have the energy to deal with those boys today. I just want to relax. Besides, don’t you want a donut?”
“I do!” Millicent pipes up, no longer crying, though her voice still sounds a little frail. “I want one. Can I get one with pink sprinkles?”
I smile and hope it doesn’t look tired. “Sure.”