The Last Boy and Girl in the World (22 page)

“Levi, that sounds like the most depressing job ever. Right up there with gravedigger.”

His lip curled. “It's actually an important job, okay? Because if the gas isn't turned off, and one of these guys rips out an oven, there could be an explosion. But forget it. Never mind.”

“What do you need to work for? I thought you were . . . um . . . going places.” It was too good, I couldn't help myself.

He groaned. “That stupid article. I wasn't asking to be portrayed like that. Anyway, a full ride isn't always a full ride. You'll see.”

“Don't tell me that. Your grades were perfect, I'm sure.”

He didn't dispute it. But after a few more steps, he said, “Well, there was one black mark . . . No Mock Congress championship.”

I whipped around so hard, I had to pull strands of my hair out of my mouth. He had a grin on his face, but it only lasted a second, because he could see that I was fuming. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Levi put a hand up. “Hey. Don't be mad at me. I was only kidding. And you were the one who quit on us.”

•  •  •

We had reached the semifinal round, which was way further than anyone thought we would get. But instead of it pumping us up, it scared the crap out of us.

Bundy ordered our team into one of the empty conference rooms at the hotel to go over our debate points. We'd been assigned to take the position against the passage of a proposed bill to eliminate advertising in schools.

It was a gift from God.

The Mock Congress bills before felt like playacting. Climate change or voter registration or mandatory jail sentences. None of that stuff affected our lives. But this one did. It was easy for a wealthy school to be all like, “No thank you, evil advertisers! We want to be pure!” But if Coca-Cola built us a new scoreboard so long as we sold their drinks? Or if Minute Maid offered to give our school a TV studio to broadcast morning announcements if we played ads for their orange juice?

We were the have-nothings up against the have-everythings.

We were really nervous, like puke nervous, because everything we were going to say was personal. And everyone would know it, because we were from the small town in the least-affluent district.

At some point, Bundy stepped out to get herself a coffee. We were supposed to continue practicing, but of course we didn't.

I think Dave Fallon was the first one to say, “Did you guys notice how the school we're up against are all in matching blazers and polo shirts? I didn't know we were supposed to do that.”

We looked each other over. Some of us were dressed up—I'd worn black dress pants, a light gray sweater, and flats—but that was not the norm. Most of our team was in jeans. Every single boy was wearing sneakers.

“I bet they're the ones who came here in that air-conditioned bus.”

“I saw two of them in the bathrooms. They were talking about how they were going to eviscerate us.”

Ellen Botkin looked down at her note cards. “Do I have to make this point about our average salary in Aberdeen? It's embarrassing.”

I watched my whole team losing confidence by the second. So I did what I do best. I started goofing off. I figured the best way for us to get over how we looked was to poke fun at us. Get it out on the table so we could move on. So I pretended to be a white trash hick, which is how those other schools saw us anyway. With a stupid-sounding drawl and hee-haw knee slaps, I read my note cards. Everyone started cracking up. I even stuffed Lisa Krawinski's sweatshirt underneath my shirt so I'd look like a pregnant teen.

Most of the kids were laughing, but Levi wiped his forehead with his sleeve and pleaded, “You guys, come on. We can win this, we just have to be better than them. And to be better than them, we have to practice.” He was the only other one to dress up. He had on a green necktie.

I said, “Fine, Levi. You go.”

He shuffled his index cards and started. But every other sentence, I cut him off. I was doing it to be funny. I mean, sure, I saw him getting mad, but I figured eventually he'd crack and have a good laugh, and then we'd get on with it. But that's not what happened. He stalked out.

When he came back in, I was in the middle of doing a square dance. Bundy was with him, and she was not happy. She made a big example out of me in front of everyone, yelling at me. Which I pretty much expected. But then she said, “Keeley, get on the bus. You are no longer on this team.”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“Wait, what?” I said. I glanced around the room for support, but no one had the balls to look at me. Especially not Levi.

Bundy was so angry with me, she was shaking, so badly that she set her coffee down. “I'm not going to say it again. You aren't taking this seriously, so you are off the team. Go sit on the bus and wait for us to finish.”

I laughed dryly. And then I walked out.

But I lingered just outside the door, thinking, hoping that maybe Bundy was all talk. Maybe it was a test, her wanting me to beg to be back on the team. I was so humiliated though, there was no way I was going to do that. So I did what I was told. I went out and sat on the bus for the next two hours and cried my eyes out.

I had hope that maybe we'd won. I thought about sneaking back in to see the awards presentation. But I didn't. I didn't want Bundy to think I cared.

When the kids came back on the bus, I greeted them with a smile. Actually, I put my arm around the bus driver and said, “You guys, I want you all to meet Larry, my new bestie.”

I could tell right away that we'd lost. On the ride back to Aberdeen, most people were sympathetic toward me. They knew I wouldn't leave them high and dry. They blamed Bundy.

Not Levi. He'd given me no sympathy. I would have thought he'd felt worst of all, since he basically narc'ed me out. The one time we did make eye contact, he'd just glared at me.

•  •  •

Now, as we got closer to my house, I knew Levi was going over that day in his mind too, the way his forehead crinkled up, shrinking the space between his hairline and his eyebrows.

I lifted my grocery bags out of his bike basket. I definitely wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of carrying them for me anymore. I'd rather my arms fell off. “I'm not too much farther,” I said.

“Come on, Keeley,” he said—annoyed! With me! “You live more than a mile from here. And uphill.”

Just then, I spotted my mom's car pulling slowly down the street. The police officers made room for her to pass through. I waved her down. “I've got a ride,” I said smugly.

Levi ducked his head in the window when Mom came to a stop. “Hello, Mrs. Hewitt. Sorry I didn't introduce myself to you yesterday. I'm Levi, Sheriff Hamrick's son.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh my gosh, Levi. I should have recognized you. You've grown so much. And my God, you look so much like your mother. You have her same eyes.”

I glanced to see how he'd react to that, but Levi just stood there blankly, almost as if he hadn't heard her.

Then to me, she said, “Great. You made it to Viola's.” She clicked open the trunk.

Levi let his bike fall to the ground to take the bags out of my arms again. “It's really sad that Viola's is closing. I know Keeley was planning to work there. But I was just telling her about a job she could take working for the town. It's temporary, but it pays well.”

I glared at him. “What are you doing?” I said through my teeth.

“Oh, wow! Isn't that terrific, Keeley? Thank you, Levi.”

“No problem,” Levi said. He picked up his bike and rode away, not even looking at me.

As soon as I was in the car, I told her, “Mom, I don't want to take that job.” I didn't understand why Levi had mentioned it in the first place, especially because I'd said I wasn't interested. I was already trying to view the whole Viola's Market thing as a blessing in disguise. If I didn't have to work, that meant more time hanging out with my friends and with Jesse and helping Dad.

“Why?”

I hated that she sounded disappointed with me. “Well . . . wouldn't it look weird to the other residents if they knew Dad's daughter was working with the sheriff's son?”

“It's a job, Keeley. We could use the money.”

“College, I know, Mom, but—”

“It's not just that, Keeley.” Mom's hands tightened around the steering wheel. “We just don't know what tomorrow will bring. These sorts of things can decimate people's savings if they don't have the proper insurance, and even then there are unexpected out-of-pocket costs. Everyone's talking about the next storm. We may need help simply making ends meet.”

When we got home, Sheriff Hamrick's squad car was parked in our driveway.

“Shit,” Mom said. She never cursed, not in front of me. She jumped out. “Is everything okay? Is Jim all right?”

My stomach dropped. What if Dad had gotten hurt again? Or, I don't know, arrested . . .

“Everything's fine, Jill, I just wanted to stop by and say there's no hard feelings about the other night in the gym, okay? If your family needs anything, I want you to call us right away.”

I barely nodded. I knew it was nice of Sheriff Hamrick to say that. But right then I was so mad at Levi that I couldn't see it. I hated him as much as my father hated Sheriff Hamrick, and the mayor and the governor, too.

Wednesday, May 18

Rain tapering off after 7:00 PM, low of 58°F

After dinner, I got a text from Jesse that said,
Playdate?

It had thankfully stopped raining, but even if it'd been pouring, I probably would still have gone out to meet him.

I wrote back,
BYOJB? (Bring your own juice box?)

Pffft. You're my girl now. I got you covered.

I met Jesse and Julia at the playground behind Aberdeen's grade school thirty minutes later. He was wearing a pair of black Adidas track pants, and his gray sweatshirt was unzipped to reveal a red T-shirt that said
SAVE EARTH! IT'S THE ONLY PLANET WITH PIZZA!
His curls were pulled up into a bun at the top of his head.

“Whoa,” I said when I walked through the gates. “I haven't been here forever. Everything looks so small.”

This was not one of those newer playgrounds where everything was made of brightly colored plastic and the ground was that cushy foam that prevents kids from skinning their knees. It was a lot of weathered wood and rusting metal. The ground was supposed to be grass, but it was mostly scrubby plants and mud puddles.

“Crazy, right?” Jesse ducked underneath the monkey bars. He was so tall that when he stood flat-footed, his head popped up between the rungs. “I remember when this drop felt scary far.”

I walked toward him and reached up for the bars myself. Little drops of rain from that afternoon clung to the underside of the rungs. On tiptoes, my fingertips just grazed them. “I could never do these. I have, like, zero upper-body strength.”

“Try it now.”

I gave him a warning face, but as soon as I reached up for the bar, he tried to tickle me. I smacked my arms back down to my sides. “Don't, Jesse!”

“Don't or you'll what?”

I smiled meekly. “Don't or . . . you'll be sorry?”

He took a big step toward me, closing up the space between us. “I think I could take you.”

I wondered in that moment if being close to Jesse would ever be something I'd get used to or if I'd feel so tingly every single time.

Suddenly, Julia came zooming down a slide and ran straight over to Jesse. Her curly hair was pulled up into two tuffs at the very top of her head.

He moved a few steps away from me and I could suddenly breathe again. Julia jumped up and clung to him. He grabbed her hands and she did a twist, flipping over like a gymnast before falling back down to the ground. “You remember Keeley, right?”

Julia nodded, but she was looking around, distracted. “Where are all the other kids? You said there'd be other kids to play with.” The seat of her pink polka-dot leggings was wet from the slide.

I'd figured there would be other kids here too. In fact, I'd come to the school at the same time that a woman and her two young daughters pulled up in their minivan. The driveway was roped off with caution tape, so they turned around for home. I would have done the same if I hadn't heard Jesse and Julia laughing in the distance. I ducked under the caution tape, which set her kids off screaming and pointing at me. The woman gave me a dirty look as she drove away.

Jesse shrugged. “You'll see them at school on Monday. And anyway, we don't need other kids. We've got enough for a race.”

Julia grinned and pointed across the playground. “To the swings!”

Jesse crouched down like an Olympic sprinter waiting for the starting gun. He turned to me. “On your marks . . .”

I got down like a sprinter too. “Get set . . .”

Julia started running before he said, “Go!” and got a few steps ahead of us. But when she turned around to see how far behind we were, she tripped over her own feet and crashed hard onto the ground in a muddy tumble. She exploded in tears.

Jesse, who'd been fake-running before, clicked into a full-on soccer sprint and scooped her up in his arms. He didn't care that she was smearing mud all over his T-shirt. Julia was hysterical and flailing her arms. Jesse checked her all over to make sure she wasn't bleeding. He kept telling her, “It's okay, it's okay,” but she wouldn't calm down. She was screaming, guttural and raw.