Elevated (2 page)

Speak,

Live.

Last year,

Honesty lived,

Loved,

Laughed.

But now—

Now I live with the knowledge that

Some things

Kill others.

Last year,

I said, “Gina’s as easy as second-grade math,”

Stopped at Honesty’s locker.

“I mean, anyone who can get two baseball—”

Last year,

Honesty spun around,

Flashed fire with her blue eyes,

Cracked her makeup as she scowled.

“
She
has a date to prom. And we do not.”

“Travis’ll ask you.”

Jealousy surged behind my words because they’d been dating since Valentine’s Day,

But she didn’t hear it.

“He hasn’t yet.”

Honesty applied another layer of lip gloss.

“Peaches & Cream?”

She knew which shade went with my lime green sweater,

With the coral in the jacket my dad sent from Afghanistan,

With Señor Hansen’s mood.

She knew lip gloss,

But she didn’t know me

Last year.

“MAYBE GINA’S RIGHT.”

I scoffed,

Waved away her lip gloss.

“She just wants you to think Travis notices her.”

“They do have health class together.”

“So what? So do thirty other kids. He doesn’t notice her.”

“How do you know? Don’t you think she’s pretty?”

Chestnut hair,

Falling in waves like a liquid wood waterfall.

Silky skin.

Perfectly kissable lips—all the boys said so.

Yes, Gina is pretty.

“He’ll ask you,” I said.

She swished her way into Spanish,

Leaving me in the hall,

Leaving me wishing my words weren’t true,
Leaving me knowing that they were.

I couldn’t compete with Honesty,

With her dark blonde hair streaked with auburn,

With her captivating blue eyes,

With her legs that stretched into forever.

She had the brains,

The body,

The perfect resume for
girlfriend.

And me?

I had the perfect resume for

Best friend.

All the boys said so.

I BREATHE THROUGH MY MOUTH,

Seconds ticking loudly in my ears,

Questions clogging my throat.

Will he drop my salad on his way out?

Should I say something?

How am I going to survive the next two minutes and forty-seven seconds?

The car coasts past the third floor,

The industrial lights overhead flash,

I glance up.

The lights disappear,

The elevator shudders,

Stalls,

Quits.

All in the same nanosecond.

All that exists is darkness so thick I can’t think,

And Travis so close I can’t breathe.

I REACH FOR THE WALL

Find it next to me.

The bumps in the metal,

The solid steel,

Bring no comfort.

“What—?”

The hum of the emergency lights interrupt Travis.

His voice carries as much fear as I feel.

Only two of the six overhead lights

Push back against the darkness.

The rings around the 14 and 16 are black.

Without movement,

Without light,

Without a proper lungful of air,

I feel like the next moment will consume me whole.

“Must be the storm,” he murmurs.

I thought three minutes and twelve seconds would undo me.

Now I’m trapped.

I cannot survive in this elevator.

Not with him,

Not for
much longer

Another second.

I PUNCH THE BUTTONS ON MY CELL,

Find the right speed dial,

Feel the vibrations rumble through my fingers,

Breathe to calm the storm inside my chest.

My mom picks up after the fourth ring.

“El? Where are you?”

“In the elevator,” I say,

Trying to keep the panic out of my voice,

Trying not to sob in front of Travis.

I wish,

Wish,

Wish

The anxiety was borne from being stuck in an unmoving metal box the size of Rhode Island,

But that’s not it.

In the pause still lingering,

I say, “Mom—I can’t—”

“The power’s out. I’ll call Harold. Where are you?”

“Between three and four, I think.”

My hair twists around and around my pinky.

I want to stop,

To catch my breath,

To feel like I’m put together right,

But I fear I might explode

If I don’t get out of here

Soon.

Now.

“HE ASKED ME!”

Honesty’s squeal into the intercom

Sounds as loud in my head now

As it did a year ago in my apartment.

I PRESSED THE BUZZER TO LET HER IN

Since Harold’s shift didn’t start until six.

Sighed as I checked the freezer for ice cream bars,

Called Trav to cancel our shopping trip happening in twenty minutes.

He wanted me to come along to buy flowers for prom.

I dreamt about him again last night.

Maybe because we talked on the roof until midnight.

I rescheduled with Trav,

Stuffed my feelings into the deepest part of myself,

Put on my game face for Honesty.

She never suspected anything.

Not ever.

I’m really good at hiding things,

Big things,

Important things.

Then,

Now,

Always.

NOW, I CARRY EVERYTHING I NEED IN A BACKPACK,

Or leave it at home.

I don’t go to my locker,

Don’t want to relive the memories,

Don’t want to see Travis.

HE USED TO MEET ME THERE,

Used to smile,

Used to hitch his backpack higher,

Used to say, “You ready?”

Asking me if I had everything so we could head home.

But once, it was so we could go buy flowers for prom.

Once, he swept his dark hair off his forehead,

Zeroed in on me,

Maintained eye contact,

Something that made my heart squeeze,

My stomach swoop.

Once, I said,

“I guess,”

Fell into step beside him.

“This isn’t all that fun for me.”

Once, he pulled out his keys.

Said, “Oh, chill. It’s just flowers. It’s like, ten minutes.”

“For a dance I haven’t been invited to.”

“Someone will ask you.”

Once, I spent all my free time with him or Honesty,

And they had each other.

Who did he think would ask me?

He must’ve felt my doubt,

Seen the scowl on my face.

Because he said, “I’ll tell Jesse to ask you.”

“Gee, thanks. That’s just what I want.

Your scumbag cousin to ask me because you told him to.”

“He’s not a scumbag.”

“Prove it,” I muttered,

Using Trav’s favorite catch phrase.

He said it after nearly everything;

It was almost always highly inappropriate.

He’d laughed at me when I made fun of him,

Once.

JESSE LIVED WITH TRAV

Because Jesse’s mom was in rehab,

And while he was eighteen,

He was a senior

And couldn’t make rent on his own.

He worked delivering pizzas,

Played baseball in his spare time.

He was okay,

I guess.

But Jesse wasn’t Trav.

I SHOVE THE THOUGHTS OF PROM AWAY.

The dance doesn’t matter,

The flowers don’t matter.

Trav doesn’t matter.

Not anymore.

I told myself those lies,

And more,

All the way to the florist shop,

Just as I repeat them now.

HE LOOKED AT ROSES,

Orchids,

Lilies.

Ten minutes turned into thirty.

You’d think Trav was the one who couldn’t make a decision to save his life.

By the time he’d ordered the perfect corsage I wanted to take a thorn,

Stab it into my jugular,

End my misery of watching him choose flowers for

A girl who wasn’t me.

Travis doesn’t matter,

I chanted over and over.

The words became an internal scream when he hugged me,

Thanked me for coming with him,

Smiled like he could hear the stream of lies in my head.

You don’t care about the stupid prom.

You don’t care about getting roses from a boy.

And you certainly don’t care
that way
about Travis.

I didn’t notice the ride home,

The pathetic parking job Travis did in the garage,

The weight of my homework in my tattered backpack.

I did hear the elevator ding,

Felt the pressure of his hand as Trav pulled me inside.

I looked down,

Found our fingers entwined,

Inhaled the brown sugary smell of his skin,

The mountain stream scented laundry detergent in his shirt,

The tang of oranges from his ChapStick.

“I’ll talk to Jesse, okay?”

Trav’s voice was filled with warmth,

Friendship,

Everything worth having.

He got off on fourteen;

I spent the rest of the evening on the roof,

Trying to erase the guilt over crushing on my best friend’s boyfriend.

THE LIGHTS OVERHEAD FLICKER,

Extinguish,

Leave me trapped in the dark

With Travis.

Silence presses down,

Loud,

Powerful.

We’re both standing stock still,

Waiting.

For Harold,

The emergency phone to ring,

An alarm,

The power to come on,

The other to speak first,

Something.

“Elly,” Travis whisper-says,

“Please, talk to me.”

He makes his words come out at the right time.

Hard things,

Easy things.

I don’t know how he does it.

Every time I try to say what needs to be said,

Something bad happens.

After I told my dad a secret,

He wouldn’t be able to call for a while.

The worry rode in my mother’s eyes,

In the lines on her forehead,

Through my mind.

Then he’d call,

And everything would be fine,

And he’d use code words for the missions he couldn’t talk about,

But I wouldn’t tell him another secret for a while.

After prom,

After the summer,

After Jesse looked me straight in the eyes,

After he demanded the truth,

He left.

Just like he said he would.

He didn’t say goodbye,

Not to me.

Trav said he wanted to,

He really did,

But there wasn’t time.

I’d believed him.

But now, I don’t know what to believe.

I SQUEEZE MY EYES SHUT AGAINST THE DARKNESS,

Breathe in sharply,

Trying

Trying

Trying

To eliminate every memory with Travis in it.

It’s so hard to see him every day,

And not talk to him.

It’s awful to feel this level of hurt,

And not be able to bury my face in his chest,

Cry like I’ve done before.

It’s torture to be reminded of his taste every time I peel an orange.

Torture,

Every time I fold my laundry and get hit with the smell of detergent.

Absolute one-hundred percent agonizing torture,

To be in this elevator with him and not be kissing.

I LIKE THE HURT.

It reminds me of my plan:

Leave Chicago as soon as finals are over.

Only three more weeks.

TRAVIS MOVES TOWARD ME,

The plastic salad bag rustles,

His wet Converse squeak against the floor,

Screaming protests at his movement.

I’m screaming too.

Inside.

Silently.

Alone.

He doesn’t touch me,

But I know he’s right behind me.

His body heat is a familiar burn,

His steady breathing a needed friend.

I match my breathing to his,

Will myself to be as calm as he is.

My stomach remains heavy,

Pulls me toward the floor—

Through it—

Underground,

Where I don’t have to cope with living anymore.

My fingers curl into fists.

I don’t want to turn,

Don’t want to allow myself to reach for him,

Don’t want him to know how I still feel.