Art & Soul (14 page)

“You’re welcome, Levi.”

The bus pulled up and as she stepped away from me, her shoulder brushed against mine. We were covered in fabrics, both wearing jackets and T-shirts underneath, yet her small touch was enough for me to know what she felt like.

Somehow she was warm and cold all at once, the same kind of feeling the rising sun brought to the frosted forest in the mornings.

The only time I’d ever felt that way was when I played the violin and was able to escape reality for a little while. Shutting my eyes and feeling the bow roll across the strings was the only way I’d found warmth until Aria looked at me. She looked at me as if she really saw me, the real me, and she was okay with it, too. She stared as if I deserved to be happy. The real kind of happy.

T
hat night
, Dad was drunk again. Instead of watching him stumble around, I went over to Lance and Daisy’s apartment, ate tofu that tasted like feet, and stayed on their pullout couch.

Aria:
This afternoon I found out that the baby is sixteen weeks old and the size of an avocado, finished my calculus homework, painted a bit, and downloaded the whole Mumford & Sons CD to my iPod. Your turn.

I smiled.

Me:
I ate tofu.

Aria:
That’s it?

Me:
We had calculus homework?

Aria:
You’re never going to graduate.

Me:
I think you’re beautiful.

Aria:
Shut up.

Me:
Your avocado is pretty cute, too.

Aria:
I bet you say that to all the pregnant girls at school.

I hadn’t stopped smiling.

I imagined what she was doing. When a person wasn’t allowed to touch someone who they really wanted to touch, they settled for noticing every little thing about them instead. When Aria was happy—really happy—her dimples deepened. When she was uncomfortable, she chewed on the collar of her T-shirts. When sad, she bit her bottom lip—but she did the same when she was nervous or deep in thought, so I’d had to pay very close attention to make sure which she was. That wasn’t hard, though. She was very easy to pay attention to.

I hoped her dimples were showing. I hoped I made her happy.

Me:
Why did the chicken cross the möbius strip?

Aria:
To get to the same side. You’re such a nerd. And I think I’m more of a nerd because I knew the answer to your terrible math joke.

Still smiling.

Me:
Goodnight, Art.

Aria:
Goodnight, Soul.

E
ach Thursday
, Dr. Ward stared at me with the same concerned eyes. It was annoying how much he pretended to care. I wondered how much he would care if Mom wasn’t writing him such a big check.

This time the candy bowl was filled with black licorice, which was worrisome. Anyone who believed that black licorice was candy should see their own therapist.

Our conversations became cliché, each week echoing the last. He started with the same question each time, I spoke about an artist, and then he followed it up with one more question.

“What’s on your mind, Aria?” he would ask.

“Banksy,” I replied.

“Who’s Banksy?”

“He’s this amazing street artist who uses graffiti art to express his controversial views on the world. He’s loud with his artwork, but quiet at the same time. No one really knows who he is, but they
know
him.
The Balloon Girl
is my favorite piece because it just captures everything within it.”

He arched an eyebrow like he didn’t understand what I meant.

I sighed. I wanted to say Google it and you’ll understand, but I explained, because I liked talking about art. It was the one thing I understood, the one thing that was meaningful. “It’s a little girl reaching out toward a heart-shaped, red balloon, but the balloon is already floating away.”

“Do you feel like you’re floating away sometimes, Aria?”

Yes.

A lot.

All the time.

But I didn’t tell Dr. Ward that. I stayed quiet, and he never pushed me for more details.

M
onday morning
I walked to the bus stop and smiled seeing Simon holding four balloons that read
Happy Birthday
in his hand. “Happy birthday!” he shouted, handing me the balloons.

“Thanks!” I laughed.

Levi walked over to us frowning, staring at the balloons. “I didn’t know it was your birthday.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I didn’t get you anything.”

“It’s okay, really. No big deal.”

“It
is
a big deal!” Simon exclaimed. “Because you, my friend, are no longer sixteen. Which means you are no longer sixteen and pregnant, which means—”

I definitely knew what it meant. “I am no longer a statistic! Well, I’m still a teen pregnancy statistic,
but!
I’m not the MTV television show kind of statistic!”

“I think this calls for a dance,” Simon said.

“Thriller?”

“No. I think it’s hammer time.” He and I proceeded to partake in the weirdest M.C. Hammer dance right there on the sidewalk, cracking up with one another while Levi stared at us as if we were psycho, before he joined in with the dancing.

And I swear at one point, my heart swooned a little.

“
H
appy birthday
, happy birthday, happy birthday,” Levi said as we left calculus. He had said it at least thirty times since he found out this morning.

“You can stop feeling bad now. I can feel the love.” I snickered.

“As you should. Oh, hey. Did you hear why they never have beer at math parties?” he asked as we stood by my locker. “I guess they don’t want people to drink and derive.”

Bad math puns from an odd, Southern boy.

Birthday officially made.

Before he headed off to his next class, he handed me a folded piece of paper. I opened it and couldn’t stop the butterflies that weren’t supposed to be in my stomach.

There was even a terrible drawing of what was supposed to be me eating cake or something. He was as bad at drawing as I was at the drums. Luckily we balanced each other out.

“Happy Birthday,” James said from behind me, sending the butterflies in my stomach fluttering away.

“Thanks,” I muttered, closing my locker and walking away.

James hurried beside me, clearly on a mission to ruin my birthday that was just made a few minutes ago. “Listen, I didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but I heard a rumor that Levi was messing around with Heather Randall. I just thought you should know.”

“Why do you have so much interest in Levi?” I said, rolling my eyes. I could see the jealousy that James somehow had over Levi befriending me. It was annoying to say the least.

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well, aren’t you just the caring type?”

Before he could reply, Nadine came bouncing down the hallway and wrapped her arms around James’ waist. “Hey, you guys! What’s going on?”

James broke his stare from me and gave his girlfriend his smile. “Nothing, just checking in on Aria.”

Nadine smiled toward me. “He’s such a sweetheart. Speaking of sweet…what’s the deal with you and the Southern Casanova, Aria? He’s cute!”

James laughed nervously. “I doubt dating is the biggest thing on her mind right now, Na. Besides, rumor has it that he has a thing going on with Heather.”

Oh-my-gosh-I-want-to-punch-you-in-the-penis!

Instead, I gave a fake smile to Nadine. “Levi and I are just friends.”

James sighed—relieved. That annoyed me, too.

“Mhmm. I’m just saying if it were me and the baby’s father wasn’t in the picture, I wouldn’t be turned off by the attention from Levi Myers. Plus, the way he looks at you is very different than the way he looks at any other girl here.” She smiled, pulling an annoyed James off toward their next class.

Was that true, though? Did Levi look at me differently?

I looked down at my protruding belly, rubbing my palms over the bump.

It doesn’t matter.

It didn’t matter how Levi looked at me. I wasn’t allowed to think of him in any way other than a friend. In a few months, I would be having a baby and my life would be forever changed.

O
n Wednesday
, Simon invited me over to his house for ‘guy time’ as he called it. When I took the shortest walk ever across the street to Simon’s house, his mom answered.

“Hi, can I help you?” She smiled.

“Hey, yeah. I’m Levi, Simon’s friend. We were going to hang out for a bit.”

Her face lit up, and she placed her hands on her hips. “You’re Simon’s friend?!”

“Yeah, we met at school and—”

“Who’s at the door?” an older guy said, walking into their foyer.

“This is
Levi
. Simon’s new
friend
.”

The guy’s face lit up, too. “Simon’s friend?”

“I know! Isn’t it wonderful?! Come in, Levi,” the woman said, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. “I’m Keira and this is my husband, Paul. Si, come on out, you have a friend here. And it’s not Aria!”

It would’ve seemed very strange and a bit rude how dramatic his parents were acting about Simon having another friend, but really they were just…overjoyed.

Simon came running out of his room and groaned. “You don’t have to scare him off, guys. Hey, Levi, what’s up? You can come hang out in my room.”

“I’ll order pizza!” Keira shouted. “And I’ll make some brownies! Levi, do you like brownies?”

“Mommm, chill out. We’re just playing video games for a while.”

Keira turned around to Paul. “Did you hear that?! They are playing video games!”

“I love brownies,” I cut in. A wise person would never turn down the opportunity for homemade brownies.

Simon rolled his eyes as I laughed. He took me to the hallway leading to his bedroom. I noticed all of the family portraits on the walls, and couldn’t help but wonder about one thing that didn’t fit into the story of the person I was growing to know each day. When we stepped into his bedroom, he quickly shut his door behind us. “Can you tell that I don’t get many visitors?”

“No big deal.”

“No big deal? My parents just had a heart attack because someone came over to visit me. Anyway, I’m glad you’re here, because I need your input.”

I glanced around at his extremely clean room. Nothing was out of place. His clothes were organized by color in his closet. He had his video games organized on his shelf in alphabetical order. He had more cleaning supplies than I’d ever seen.

He walked into his closet. “So we can play games and all of that stuff, but I really called you over for O.G.A.A.”

“Oh, right, of course. I figured that’s what we were going to be doing anyway.” I nodded, sitting in one of his beanbag chairs. “By the way, what’s O.G.A.A.?”

He walked out of his closet with a bulletin board. He flipped it around, and I stared at a crayon drawing of a girl with four groups of four note cards.

“Operation Get Awkward Abigail.”

“That’s a drawing of Abigail?” I tilted my head and narrowed my eyes.

He fiddled with his hands. “I didn’t get her nose right.”

“Her body proportion is a little off. Not that Abigail’s fat, but she’s a little bigger than that.”

“Well, clearly she’s not really a stick person, Levi. Aria is the artist. I’m just the weird red-haired best friend.”

“Oh, well. All right. Sorry, but I thought last time we spoke on this subject you were anti-Abigail.”

“But then I ate her cookies.”

“And you liked her cookies,” I said with a wide grin.

“They melted in my mouth.” He sighed heavily, sitting on his bed. “I loved her cookies.”

“That explains why we are in O.G.A.A. What’s on the notecards?”

“Different scenarios of how I ask her out on a date.”

I walked over to examine the board. “Sky diving? Hiking? A sign on a blimp balloon? These are your ideas for asking her out?”

“Yes! Think about it. You’re jumping out of a plane, falling, falling, falling, minutes away from your death because your parachute is stuck, you look over at those blue eyes of hers and say, ‘Awkward Abigail, will you go out with me for a milkshake if we make it to the ground?’ And then she would say yes and we would obviously live happily ever after.”

“Unless you died from the, you know, impact of slamming into the ground.”

He smirked. “Well, yeah, there’s that.”

“Have you thought of, I don’t know, just asking her to go out with you?”

“Like, in person?”

“Yes.”

“Face to face?”

“Uh huh.”

He started laughing hysterically, turning redder and redder. Then he went deadpan. “You know what, that might work.” He dropped his board to the ground. “Video games?”

I laughed.

We started playing some game where we shot a bunch of things, then we switched to a game where we killed a bunch of things, and then we switched to a game where we shot and killed some more things.

Trying to be nonchalant, in the middle of some kind of battle field where Simon and I were blowing off the heads of zombies, I said, “I saw your family pictures in the hallway.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah. Mom’s a picture addict.”

“I didn’t know you had a little sister.”

He continued playing the video game as he spoke. “When I was five, I begged my mom to take Lizzie and me out for ice cream, even though she was already tired from working at the diner. When we went, we were in a bad car accident and Lizzie ended up being in a coma for weeks. The doctors told us that for a three-year-old she fought hard, but wasn’t going to make it. Then one day, she was just gone.”

“God. I’m so sorry, Si.”

He kept playing the game, but his focus was elsewhere. “Then they found out Mom would have trouble getting pregnant again due to the same accident, so they spent years trying to have another.”

“You blame yourself?”

“Wouldn’t you? If it wasn’t for me, my little sister would still be here. And Mom and Dad would’ve had more kids, and they wouldn’t have been going through hell these past years. I’m the reason their lives are screwed up.”

“Dude, you were just a kid. You didn’t cause the accident.”

“Didn’t I, though? We should’ve never even been out. We should’ve…” I could see the guilt in his eyes as he tapped the triangle button on the controller four times hard, before he moved to the square button and hit it four times, too. “Next topic?” he asked, not wanting to talk about it anymore. I wouldn’t push him to keep talking. Therefore I went to a lighter subject.

“So, I was thinking about Aria—”

“Well, duh.” He smirked, growing comfortable again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s the fact that every second of every day you’re eye-loving the hell out of her.”

“Dude, shut up. I’m not. Anyway, I need an idea for her birthday gift since I missed it.”

Simon arched a brow. “And you’re asking my advice?” I nodded. “Well, get her anything related to art. She was actually talking about this one thing, but it’s kind of expensive.”

“What is it?”

He proceeded to tell me, and the price made me cringe. I hadn’t seen that kind of money in a long time, but it was the perfect gift, which only left me one option.

“
I
need eighty dollars
,” I said to Lance after school one day as he moved things around his shop. Whenever Dad didn’t want me around the house, I would go to Lance’s music store and mess around with some of the instruments.

“For what?”

“A school project.”

“What kind of school project makes you pay eighty bucks?”

“I don’t know. Public school is weird. They even make you eat cow intestines, I think.”

“I definitely remember it being pig intestines when I went there. They sure are uppity nowadays. That’s the problem with your generation. You boneheads are eating like kings and queens.” He leaned back against a box and narrowed his eyes on me. “So really, what’s the money for?”

“I want to take a friend somewhere.”

“What friend?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow.

“They don’t have a name, actually.”

“Mhmm. Is it a
girl
friend?”

“No gender, either.”

“This is about that one girl, isn’t it?”

“What girl?”

“Art. The girl who played the drums like complete shit, and is the reason for that stupid grin on your face whenever I bring her up.”

“Oh, her?”

“Yes, her.”

“Yes,” I replied. “It’s about her.”

“Once again slipping into the uncool uncle role: do you think that’s a good idea with the whole walking dead thing forming in her gut?”

“You think she’s having a zombie baby?” The weekend before Lance had forced me to binge watch
The Walking Dead
with him. I couldn’t sleep for days after watching it, but shit, it was addicting.

“Hell, maybe it is a zombie baby. I’ve been on LSD before, so I’ve seen some pretty weird shit. But seriously, Levi. Human hearts are like this.” He held up a plate of Daisy’s newest vegan cookies. “They are perfect when looking at them from a distance but then, when you pick them up,” he lifted a cookie and it began to crumble, “they have a way of breaking. You two are young. She already has a lot going on. You have a lot going on. So you both should protect your hearts.”

I nodded, slowly. “So…about that eighty dollars…”

He rolled his eyes. “Take out the trash, sweep the floors, and then we’ll talk.”

That pretty much meant yes.