She nods
very serious,
then says
How about you?
Get your guts scraped out?
I open my mouth
You can see all the way to my tail!
Then I’m inside.
She tells me all about camping
I tell her all about Xaviers
and more about Xaviers
and some more about Xaviers
until she looks like
she might need
to poop in a hole
just to get away from me.
You could come with me.
We’d be a team,
take over the place.
Tam’s eyes close slowly
open again.
But I like Franklin.
I’m queen of volleyball.
You know that.
I know that.
I just don’t want to leave you.
But Levi,
yes you do.
I want to leave the school.
That’s different.
I don’t want to leave you.
She nods
OK, yeah.
That’s different.
And that’s all we say for now.
I guess it’s all we need to.
Tam’s doorbell rings
right when I’m ready to leave,
so I open the door
watch Kate’s smile fade
when she sees me
and not Tam.
It’s okay.
I’m leaving.
Levi, wait.
Tam puts her arm over my shoulder,
holding me back.
Kate, come in.
And we stand there
the air
closing in
a net
holding us tight.
I don’t want you to fight
Tam says.
Kate, Levi is my Levi.
Right here by my side.
Levi, Kate is my Kate
Right here by my side.
She pulls us both close
so close
I can smell Kate’s shampoo.
And we’re going to figure it out,
because I need you both
to survive.
Kate and I don’t hug.
We don’t shake hands.
But somehow her eyes are softer,
and I think mine must be, too.
Tam hugs us both,
and it’s a little weird, but
weird
is better than
terrible.
Weird
is a start.
Mom hands me a piece of cake,
a glass of fortified milk-like substance.
OK
she says,
her palms on the table.
IF you get a scholarship,
IF it doesn’t cost anything,
you can go to Xaviers.
I nearly drop my fork,
my smile creeping up fast.
BUT,
she says
and I should’ve known
Mom always has buts
so many buts
a many-butted Mom,
if you go,
she holds up a finger,
IF
you have to come home
every weekend.
You have to come home
if you feel sick.
I’ve always kept you close,
so close, Levi.
But Timothy helped me understand
that letting you stretch out,
letting you go further
will help you go further.
Does that make sense?
Just . . . no more tricks, Levi.
No more lying.
Ever.
Ever.
Deal! I shout
leaping from the table
hugging her tight.
Deal!
Deal!
Deal!
OK
I’m doing it
I’m applying.
It’s happening.
Right now.
Just have to start.
I can do it.
Do it.
Do it.
Do it, Levi.
Take what you want.
Make it yours.
Are we poor?
I can’t really tell.
Do you have to be poor
to get a scholarship?
Do you have to be smart?
and pretty smart?
What if you are pretty poor
and medium smart?
How does it work?
I hope I’m not either
or
especially both.
Who am I?
How will I impact the world?
This is what I have to answer.
These are the only two questions
on the application.
Seems easy
I think.
Uh-oh.
Cursor blink.
I go get a drink.
Cursor still blinks,
brain cannot think.
Cursor STILL blinks.
I start to shrink
away
from the
keyboard.
It seems
so simple
(blank screen cursor blinking).
Who am I?
How will I impact the world?
Ugh. This really stinks
the blank page still there
the cursor still blinks.
Who am I?
I am Levi.
I write.
I am small
but fast
I am smart
but dumb.
And then the words just flow
as I tell the story of my year
up until now.
The words fly from my fingers
as I type
type
type
and I don’t know if they’re the words
Xaviers will like
but they sound good
to my ears
and look good to my eyes
and my fingers keep going
they just
fly
fly
fly.
And then it’s done.
My essay.
My story.
I should ask Timothy to read it.
I should ask him for edits.
I hope it's okay to use his words.
But I don’t.
I just hit send,
and away it goes.
And now
in the middle of everything
I’m finally
thirteen.
I asked if I could go sit in my tree
and Mom said yes
so here I am
surrounded by leaves
trying to think.
Thirteen, huh?
What will this year bring?
This past year has been bananas
so this year I’d like bananas
with whipped cream.
A big breath.
One small candle
doesn’t have a chance.
Mom smiles
Remember when you used to do that
out of your neck?
She laughs
and we eat cupcakes
and I hug Mom,
surprise her with my squeeze.
Her eyes tear up
and she squeezes back.
My sweet Levi.
You’re so big now
it blows
my
mind.
He left before I woke up.
He got home when
I dropped my dinner plate in the sink.
His hair looks like an explosion
circling his head.
His eyes are droopy.
His shoulders are, too.
Hey.
Hey.
Breathing easy?
He shrugs.
Long test?
Words no have mouth fail
he says.
Brain used up.
We smile.
Timothy’s MCAT
is over.
He sticks his head out of his doorway
Hey.
Yeah?
Happy birthday, Levi.
I smile.
Happy MCAT day, Timothy.
Three of them
taking turns
with the giant falcon head.
The bleachers like stone
under my butt.
I sit in silence
feeling bad for all my stunts,
wishing I was out there.
Kate is up next
and I know she’ll win.
She’s way better
their flips and chants
were so lame.
Tam is on the court
off to the side,
she leans in to whisper something
and when she does
she sneaks a kiss
right on Kate’s cheek
then Kate is bouncing out onto the court
making everyone laugh and clap
and I wonder
if Tam’s little kiss
gave Kate that happy little kick
to her step.
I told you!
I knew I’d come through!
Dad is so proud
you’d think he’d just
conquered the world.
Mom rolls her eyes.
It wasn’t you.
I saw him
in the ring
and he was really good.
You should have seen their coach,
the way his eyes
lit up.
Dad puts his hand on his beard
stops talking
just looks at me
then says
too loud
Well, come on!
Let’s go!
And we’re off to the gym,
boxing once again.
The fact that Dad’s words didn’t work
and it was my smooth moves
that won Mom over . . .
Hey, Dad, I say,
punching him hard in the arm.
Guess I found a sport, huh?
I’m sure it probably helped
that Dr. Sawyer said I’m OK
more than OK
pretty much
a regular
everyday
kid.
So here I am,
back in the ring,
and oh my gosh
it feels even better
than being back in my tree.
In the ring.
B A M B A M
swoosh
B A M B A M B A M
my video training
paying off.
A few hooks
quick jabs
quicker feints
and boom
I’ve won the match
in two rounds flat.
That’s right, everyone.
Levi
is
BACK.
The guys all stare
then they start to clap
Welcome back, Davidson,
Coach says.
Welcome back.
Good.
That’s all I say when Dad asks how it went.
I try to hide my smile
as I turn and stare out the car window.
I like keeping feelings like this
all to myself
for a little while.
There’s this job
Dad says
pizza grease on his chin.
It’s in Portland.
Oregon?
Yeah. Not a permanent thing.
Just a few months.
Things are feeling tight around here,
you know?
A little too close.
I need to breathe.
You know about that, right, kiddo?
He smiles.
I stare at my pizza,
trying to figure out what he means.
I say
You need to go all the way
to Portland
to breathe?
Think of it like
my Cincinnati.
He laughs.
Something clicks in my brain,
my jaw clenches.
Sadness fills me
so fast.
I lean over
almost nose to nose.
You think things are too close?
What does that even mean?
I’m strangling you?
Making it hard to breathe?
Portland will cure you?
Like Cincinnati cured me?
You need to be cured of family?
This man across the table
who I thought was my dad
sounds like a stranger.
I don’t really hear him.
Blah blah Portland.
Blab blah job.
Blah blah more money.
He doesn’t seem to notice
he won’t be able to drive me to the gym
from Portland.
We won’t eat greasy pizza together
in Portland.
We won’t have any weekends
in Portland.
He doesn’t seem to notice
that what I hear him say is
everything here is strangling him
that my hands are around his neck
and that the real reason he took this job
is to escape
to be alone
to get away
from me.
I write it on a scrap of paper
push it under Timothy’s door.
In one second he’s in the hallway
hugging me tight
and I feel like a baby
when I start to cry.
Every day I check the mail.
Every day there’s nothing.
Except for today
a long white envelope
with red ink in the corner
Xaviers
Office of Admissions
They met me,
they read my application,
and they want ME,
Levi,
at their school.
They like Levi
not Timothy
not miracles
not any of the extra stuff
that orbits around me.
They are like the Tam of schools
choosing me
because I’m me
even though they might not know
exactly what they’re getting into.
I have been awarded a smart kid scholarship
BUT
it’s only good for one year
and it doesn’t cover the whole cost.
I have to keep my grades up every year
to renew the smart kid award
and no detentions
otherwise Mom has to pay
two kidneys plus Timothy’s soul.
So all As and very few Bs and
I earn MY AWARD
which is:
the privilege of
studying my butt off.
Also I have been awarded poor kid money.
This money is the same every year
as long as we don’t suddenly
get rich
out of nowhere.
It isn’t a lot of money
but added to the smart kid award
it means some room and board is paid for.
I show the letters to Mom
her hands go to her mouth
Levi!
She squishes me in a hug
lets me go
squishes me again
takes her glasses off her head
slides them to the tip of her nose
and reads
the letters again.
Her smile is still there
but it wavers
a rainbow fading in the hot sun.
It’s still so much,
she says quietly.
The tuition . . .
We’ll have to talk to Dad.
Mom says it like she’s chewing sand.
We’ll need his help, too.
It’s the last thing I want to do,
talk to Dad
but I will
I have to
Xaviers!
It might really be my new school.
It’s been so long
it takes a minute
for me to see it
sitting on my chair
so familiar
but missing
for a while now.
I flip it open
and his words are right there:
That makes me smile.
I don’t even know what to write next.
I just hold the journal
hugging it
to my chest.
I just . . .
the world is a hard place, Levi.
We can’t always get what we want.
I know you like this school,
but guys like me and you,
we aren’t
boarding school guys.
Dad’s fries sit untouched.
I sit untouched.
That’s the dumbest thing
I’ve ever heard.
My voice isn’t loud
or mean
it’s telling the truth.
They want me because I’m smart
because I’m good at boxing
because I am Levi.
And you want me to tell them no
because I’m not a boarding school guy?
Dad.
Just say what you mean.
You don’t want to spend the money,
you don’t want to help me.
I push away my fries.
I’m done here.
I need some fresh air.
Portland can have you.
See if I care.
That didn’t go well
not the way I wanted
Dad is never going to pitch in now.
Even if he does,
Mom will have to pay for some stuff.