“I hope you’ll apply for the position, Josie,” Mr. Charleston says. “We’ll interview all qualified candidates, of course, but it sure would be nice to be able to offer the position to someone who cares about kids and books as much as Gloria. And the grapevine tells me you’ll graduate with a library credentials, right?”
“Yes, in the spring,” I say, wanting—no,needing—those words to be true.
I say my goodbyes and walk down the hall and through the auditorium doors. Levi waves to me from a spot near the front, on the far left side. I wave back and meander through the rows before taking my seat.
“How was your day?” I ask, and that’s when I notice my brother’s smile. And where he’s sitting. He’s on the end of an interior row, which means people are constantly passing by him. His seat is illuminated by the footlights, which means no part of him is in shadow. Levi always sits in the darkest corner. He’s self-conscious about his scars, afraid a curious kid or nosy parent will ask about them. He hates small-talk even more than I do, so he likes to sit in a place where he won’t be noticed or bothered.
“It was good, Josie. Really, really good.” Without another word, he hands me his phone. There on the screen is my brother, his guitar in hand, his face half-hidden as always. I don’t have to play the video to know it’s the song he’s been working on forweeks. I see the title in a hashtag and instantly know I’m right. Then I see what has my brother in such a good mood.
286.4k
“I posted it last night, before I went to bed,” he says, unable to wipe the grin off his face. It’s not the first time one of his songs has gone viral, but it’s the first time it’s ever happened that fast.
“You should see the people who are posting covers already. It’s like looking at a list of the CD collection I had back in middle school. My idols are singing my words. It’s…unreal.”
I give out my third hug for the day, and I’m not sad about it. “You’re amazing, Levi. The rest of the world is figuring out what I’ve known forever.”
He blushes. “I’m just a jackass with a guitar, Josie. I started doing this to pay the bills and pass the time when I couldn’t sleep at night. But now? It’s taking on a life of its own.”
As he finishes his words, the lights dim and the crowd gets quiet, or at least as quiet as a crowd at an elementary recital ever gets.
I watch the program and I clap proudly for Iris when she sings a song with her class. Finally, it’s time for the twins’ performance. The curtain goes up and I spot Tillie right away, even though there are a dozen other pumpkins on stage. Her little head peeks out from the stem-hat and I can see the glare from her glasses from my seat. I’m not sure where Milo—. Before I can finish my thought, I hear his voice. He’s carrying a giant pitchfork and reciting a poem called, “Pumpkin’ Huntin’” as he walks through the main aisle of the auditorium. When he approaches the stage, the pumpkins scatter in different directions, screaming as only 8-year-olds can. He’s center stage now, arms outstretched as he recites his last few lines and basks in the spotlight. The lights dim as the pumpkins creep back onto the stage and cast a giant net over him. My youngest brother lets out a scream of terror as he’s carted off in a wheelbarrow.
The audience isn’t sure how to react, so Levi starts the applause. I’m holding back laughter and tears because I know with certainty that my brother and sister scripted that whole vignette. What I don’t know is if their teacher was in on it.
I may get a phone call tonight, but for now I just enjoy the rest of the show. Everything is good. Levi’s career is taking off, and it seems like mine will, too.
It all hinges, of course, on whether or not I can keep tutoring Van, but I really have no choice. And tonight has to be better, right?
10
Van
I’m back for more torture. It’s fucking painful to be this close to Josie and not be able to do anything about it. She won’t even let me apologize. Well, she wouldn’t the other night, but I’m not giving up. If nothing else, I want to tell her how sorry I am for…well, for being young and dumb. That’s why I got here early and why my hair’s still wet. I literally raced for the locker room the minute Coach blew the whistle that ended practice. I didn’t even wait for the water to heat up—I took a cold shower (not for the first time), threw on my clothes and jogged across campus to get here a little early so we could talk.
Stepping into the main room, I catch sight of Josie right away. She’s behind the front desk, just like she was Tuesday night. I know she works here, so she’s probably checking in books or alphabetizing them or something, but she doesn’t look super busy, so I summon my courage and walk straight toward her.
Then I stop short.
She’s not alone. Kyle Fucking Hargreaves is with her. Does he work here, too? Do they just hire all the smart kids to work atthe library? (Honestly, not a bad idea.) But Kyle isn’t just a smart guy; he’s an asshole.
Bainbridge gives out academic scholarships every year. The kids who get them have their own little club, I guess you’d call it. They meet a couple times a year to do dinner with the major donors and they also have activities and stuff. The only reason I know about it is because Pete Santos is one of the full-ride winners from my year. The other one is Josie. Kyle’s a year ahead of us, but he’s in that group, too. But since he’s a year older, hasn’t he already graduated? And if so, what the fuck is he doing at the library, leaning over the counter, flirting withmy girl—my tutor?
Pete would have told me if they were together. In fact, he swore they weren’t. And yes, I realize that it’s none of my business who Josie goes out with, except when it comes to Kyle. When I spotted them together freshman year, I just figured she upgraded to a smart guy, and as much as I hated it, I couldn’t blame her. But I’ve never liked that guy. There’s just something about him that bugs me.
I’m staring and I need to stop, but the thought of walking away and waiting for Josie in a study room turns my stomach.
I clear my throat—all the dusty books in here must have triggered my non-existent allergies—and Josie looks up. I swear she smiles for a second before turning back to Kyle. She says something and he reaches for her. I watch as he flashes her a douchey smile and says, ‘I’ll text you.’ Josie waves goodbye and walks toward me.
“Van, hi. You’re a little early, but that’s fine,” she says, leading us to a table in the corner. “It’s quieter here, and we’re not on display, so that’s good.”
“Yeah, I know. We didn’t get much time to talk the other day, so I thought?—”
“Actually, I have a message from Dr. Schoenbauer that says you need to rework your essay and retake a quiz. We should start on that, don’t you think?” she asks, not even looking up at me.
But she’s right. I’ve got makeup work for Lit to do if I want to see ice time this weekend, so we dive right in.
“Has it been a while since you read the story?” she asks, and I nod because it has been. Never is definitely a while…
