Chapter 13

My dad sits quietly at the dining room table, eating fried chicken (his true love after growing up in the south) and reading Crime and Punishment again. He’s made very little progress, but I—the annoying book pusher—have to content myself with the fact that he’s made any progress at all.

“Did you just get home?” I ask, because he’s still in his work clothes and has (long-dried) paint on his cheek.

“Yep.” He stands, places his plate in the sink, and washes his hands. “Long day today.”

I frown. “I haven’t seen you, like, all week.”

He also frowns, an exaggerated version of mine. “I know. How’s work and your promotion?”

“It’s…actually really fun. Nerve-wracking, sometimes, but fun.”

He nods in understanding. “You’ll have to make something for your mother and bring it home.”

I smile. “When I get really good at it, I will.”

“And what about this afternoon? Did you have fun, wherever you were?” I assume he heard my phone call with my mom because his eyes are twinkling, teasing.

“Yeah, it was a lot of fun, actually,” I say, hoping he doesn’t bring it up. “Did Tom tell you about this local charity organization?”

“He did not.”

“One of Keagan’s friends runs it. Levi.” I quickly explain TCP while I still have my dad’s full attention. “He’s such a neat guy, Papa. I think you’d really like him.”

“I see. Why didn’t you tell us about this before?”

“Daaaad. I haven’t seen you all week, remember?”

He smirks at me. “Just be thankful you don’t have a criminal record, Bernice.”

“Shh,” I whisper. “Don’t call me that.”

“If that’s the only punishment you get for scaring your poor mother, you deserve it.”

I stick out my tongue at him. “Fine.”

He taps my nose, smiling, despite the exhaustion I see creeping into his eyes. “See you later, Bee. I’m going to bed early.”

“Sounds good. Love you, Papa.”

He hugs me quickly, then leaves to find my mom. I hurry to my room, passing Astrid in the hall. Her smile is fit for the Grim Reaper. “You almost got so busted, Bee. Mom was, like, so close to crying.”

“I wasn’t almost busted,” I argue.

Astrid follows me back to my room and leans against my door frame. “So, a charity, huh?”

“Yeah. You should come with me sometime.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, maybe.” So like Astrid. So…dry.

“I’ll tell you when I go next.”

“All right.”

“Okay, Astrid. Time to close the door.”

“I wasn’t even here,” she says with an air of mystery. “I’m a ninja.”

Then I watch as she pushes off the door, turns around—and runs smack into the doorframe. I burst into a cackling laugh (it rivals the Wicked Witch of the West’s), while Astrid rubs her forehead.

“See? I’m so ninja that the wall didn’t even see me coming.”

I gasp for a full breath amidst lingering giggles. “Go away, you dork,” I manage.

She complies, still rubbing her forehead, huffing an indignant breath.

I shake my head, coming down from the high of laughter, and pull out my phone to check for messages.

Gretchen

You disappeared again.

I hope aliens haven’t invaded California. Let me know if you need me to rescue you.

If I don’t hear back from you in 24 hours, I will DESTROY this planet to find you.

Bee

HA!

Thanks, but there’s no need.

Gretchen

That’d better be because you were on a date with that delectable boy of yours.

Bee

I just snorted out my water, thanks for that.

He’s not my boy, okay?

But.

Gretchen

I WAS RIGHT?!?!?!?!!?!?!?!?!

Bee

I was with him, yes.

Gretchen

HURRAAAAAAAAY! Is he still as delicious as last time?

Bee

Gretchen, you’re hopeless. He’s not food.

However, I will begrudgingly admit he is delicious. I spent an hour with him, and every moment of it was wonderful.

Gretchen

I seem to be missing something here. So basically…you’re saying it was a date?

Bee

You hush. I went back to The Color Project, to see more of what he does there.

I’d explained TCP to Gretchen over the weekend. While she’d seemed thoroughly impressed, she was far more interested in Levi, which is also probably why she listens eagerly to me explaining what I saw in the interview room today. My fingers hurt from typing everything out, but Gretchen’s reply is worth it.

Gretchen

WHY THE HELL HAVE YOU NOT MARRIED HIM ALREADY?

Bee

Because that’s a bit unorthodox, don’t you think?

Gretchen

He sounds like the most unorthodox nineteen-year-old I’ve ever heard of. Just make a move already. Please. You’re killing me.

Bee

Not happening. Besides, he probably has a girlfriend already. Wouldn’t want to face that humiliation.

I pause. Oh. I really don’t like that thought, not at all. I groan.

Bee

You know what? I hadn’t actually thought about that before.

….

I don’t like it.

Gretchen

Yep, you’re a goner. Nice knowing you, Bee.

Bee

Wow. Gee, thanks.

Gretchen

I was teasing you, dork. You’ll be fine. When will you see him again?

Bee

When do you think?

As soon as I possibly can.

That evening, when I’m helping to clean the kitchen after dinner, I finally get to tell my mom everything about TCP. She’s fascinated, and I think it puts her at ease. (I’m not sure if the worry lines on her face are from me or whatever was bothering her the night I heard her crying. I hope neither.)

“Mom, can you believe he’s nineteen?”

“What?!” She gives me a sharp look. “Is he lying to you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.” Shrugging, I pour the leftover noodles into a Tupperware and slide it into the fridge. “I’m excited to maybe…I don’t know…maybe volunteer a couple of hours a week.”

“Okay honey, I love the idea. Just don’t overwork yourself, especially if Tracy keeps bumping up your hours.”

“I’ll be careful, I promise. But I think it will be a nice way to spend the summer. I don’t know…I think, maybe, TCP could become important to me.”

My mom slips her arm around my waist and hugs me. She’s so short that her head rests on my shoulder. (And I’m usually the short one.) I smile as she says, “Don’t let any pretty boys get you in over your head.”

“Oh, Mama,” is all I say because, honestly, I don’t know how to respond. Anything else would be useless arguing and lies. He really is a pretty boy, and I’m already totally in over my head. “You should come visit with me, sometime.”

“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

Millicent pops her head into the room. “What’s his last name?” she asks.

“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.