Alive (20 page)

“Have you
seen
Levi?”

I dig through the costume choices and select a blue-and-white number that’s supposed to make me look like Cinderella. “Yes.” The fabric feels rough and cheap on my skin.

“Okay, then. I rest my case.”

“I…” I reappear from the dressing room and twirl. Brynn immediately shakes her head, nixing the outfit. I forge on anyway. “Look, this is an embarrassing question, but
how do you know if you’re, like, in love?”

Brynn stands up straighter. “You’re in
love
? Stel, you didn’t tell me you were in love, for Christ’s sake.”

My eyebrows lift and I hold up a finger. “I didn’t say that. I asked how would I
know
.” I’m in the process of ruling out possibilities—the same way Dr.
Belkin does with my tests.
No signs of organ rejection
, that’s what he told me. After I relented and agreed to a half day of testing at the hands of Dr. B., I wasn’t sure whether
to be relieved or disappointed when the results came back showing a big fat nothing.

So maybe it’s not medical. I know it’s
something
. And there’s the distinct possibility that I don’t know what love is. I hate being away from him. I’m uneasy
around him. I want to touch him so badly it hurts, but could all these things added together equal the
L
word?

People are always talking about butterflies and longing and lust, but maybe these are only euphemisms and the truth about love is that it’s highly uncomfortable.

“I knew it.” Brynn’s cheeks turn into those of a chipmunk as she swallows a smile. “Well, I guess that makes sense. You have to be either in love or insane.” Maybe
a little of both, I want to say, remembering Levi’s hand forcing Elsie’s tiny head underwater.

Only I’m not remembering exactly. I can’t remember something that never happened. To avoid Brynn, I delve back into the overstuffed dressing room. If it’s not a memory and
it’s not a dream, then what?

I chew the inside of my lip and stare absentmindedly into the mirror. Every sick girl worth her weight in IV tubes knows that physical illness can cause psychological manifestations and vice
versa. But I’m not sure whether a hallucination is physical defect causing something psychological, which seems less likely given Dr. Belkin’s test, or an emotional response causing the
physical manifestation of seeing something that isn’t there.

At that second, a queasy pit begins to open just below my belly button. Because, I think, the emotional trigger would have to be Levi.

“Did you decide to take a nap in there?”

I blink, coming to and catching my reflection. The too-bright satin and silly ruffled sleeves—what was I thinking? Levi would hate this.

I rummage through the pile, landing on a packaged costume that reads
ADULT DARK DOLLIE
on the label. I tug off the Cinderella getup and change into the costume. Before
opening the curtain, I step into the pair of purple-and-black-striped stockings, sliding them up over my knees and midway up my thighs. I look down, wiggling my toes, before showing Brynn.

“Well?” I put my hands on my hips. I’m wearing a tight and very short dress that fans out at the waist. A gothic-inspired black crinoline petticoat peeks out underneath, while
my fingers stick out of cropped lace gloves. The neckline is a low-cut sweetheart design, the sleeves of which hang slightly off the side of each shoulder.

“Creepy,” Brynn says, but with a sly grin. “And sexy. If you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I am.” And I’m hoping Levi is too.

Brynn cocks her head as if she can see the outfit better sideways. “You’ll need black lipstick. And boots. And definitely a push-up bra.”

“Hey!” I cup my chest protectively.

“You do have a push-up bra, right?”

I shift my weight. “Yes, I have one.” It was an impulse buy at the mall. I never thought I’d actually use it. Besides there’s hardly anything there to push.

“Good.” She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Because nothing spells true love like two extra cup sizes.”

“Did anyone ever tell you that you should write greeting cards?”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic.” She pushes me back into the dressing room to change into my real clothes and as the curtain seals me back inside, I’m left
wondering: Is that it, am I a romantic?

Or maybe I’m just hopeless.

“Trick or treat!” Brynn’s voice rises above the rest as our pack of seniors crowds onto a sparsely decorated porch. In the night air, fall has sprung up all
around us. The smell of wet leaves infuses the dark sky along with the smoky scent of a neighbor’s fire.

“Aren’t you all a little old for trick-or-treating?” says the middle-aged woman who answers the door. Funny, my parents had said the exact same thing.

She sizes us up. Brynn’s dressed as Zombie Barbie—blond wig and ghostly white makeup covered in purple and red splotches—while Lydia has donned a denim skirt, cowboy boots, and
a ten-gallon hat. Brandon’s toilet-paper mummy costume is already starting to fray, and Henry’s skeleton bodysuit only vaguely glows in the dark, but he’s skinny enough to pull it
off anyway. It’s Levi’s costume that’s truly succulent, no pun intended. A black, high-necked cape drapes around his shoulders, and his Count Dracula fangs look almost too
convincing.

“Come on,” Brandon whines. “Give us a break. We’re seniors!” She wouldn’t be the first to have turned us away tonight. Turns out playing dress-up is cuter on
seven- than seventeen-year-olds.

Brynn shoves her pillowcase out at the lady. “Consider it a Peter Pan thing. One last chance before we’re all grown-up.” She juts out her lower lip for good measure. Despite
her obvious lack of adult appeal, Brynn could sell potatoes to a potato farmer.

The woman softens and reaches into her pumpkin bowl. “Fine, but you kids behave now, okay?” We all squeal at once and shuffle around so that she can dole out handfuls to each of us.
“And I better not see you pulling this same routine next year.”

“You won’t.” Lydia promises.

We file off onto the lamplit street with hardly any intention of behaving at all. The neighborhood we gravitated to butts up to Lydia’s. Its homes have pool houses that could eat my entire
home for breakfast. We pass a bunch of little kids triumphantly waving king-size candy bars. The sound of branches scraping the side of a house makes me feel as if I’m reliving a scene from
Hocus Pocus
.

“Where to next?” I skip ahead to Levi, purposefully bypassing Henry in the process. The black asphalt sparkles with a fresh rain and a thin layer of clouds has turned the moon blood
orange.

“Damn it.” Brandon twists to check out the back of his costume. “I’m already starting to unravel.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have used generic,” I call back.

Levi laces his fingers in mine. “How about that one?” He points to a sprawling mansion with iron gates adorned with fake spiderwebs. The collar of his cape casts dark shadows across
his cheekbones.

It wouldn’t take much for someone to convince me he’s a real vampire, not when he looks at me like I’m a candied apple he’d like to take a bite out of.…

A shudder, equal parts pleasure and nerves, runs through me. I let it.

It’s Halloween.

“On it.” I walk over to the house, push open the gate, and, in minutes, return grinning with half a pillowcase full of Starburst and Twizzlers. “They weren’t home.”
Levi’s shoulders slump. I hold the bag out for his review. “But I might share if you’re nice.”

A smile playing under the shadows on his face, Levi leans in to kiss me on the cheek, but nearly head-butts Brynn instead. “Excuse
you
,” I tell her.

“Thanks.” She plunges two hands into the stash of candy, wedging herself between me and Levi. “I love Twizzlers.”

Levi pulls away before his lips can brush my skin and I’m left with a craving for his touch. I get a slight twinge of the ache in my heart when he’s gone, but it passes as quickly as
a gust of wind.

“Please, Brynn.” I snap the ends of the pillowcase closed. “Help yourself.”

She waggles her eyebrows and takes a bite out of a red licorice stick. “Don’t mind if I do.” She turns to Levi and points at me. “You should have seen this one in middle
school. Weirdest costumes ever. But cute.” She pinches my cheek. “In seventh grade she was a ‘little green man’ and in eighth—what were you again?”

“Stop!” I cover my face. “It’s so embarrassing.”

Henry clears his throat. He’s been so quiet I almost forgot he was standing right beside me. “She was the Loch Ness Monster, and she called herself Nessie.” His efforts to keep
a straight face fail and he crumples into snorting laughter. “Only—only she didn’t look anything like a sea monster. Like at all. What’d you wear again?”

I stare openmouthed at him—so glad that he’s finally talking to me, I can’t believe it. “I did too!” I get out before launching into a fit of giggles myself.
“I wore seaweed on my clothes.” I shove him playfully in the arm.

“Seaweed? That’s what that was?”

“Yes, I got it from the aquarium aisle at PetSmart!”

At this he rolls his head back and laughs up into the sky. A huge weight lifts from my shoulders. It’s been weeks since Henry and I have found anything funny together. It’s been
almost that long since we’ve said more than two words.

“Okay, fine, but remember what
you
were? Freddie Krueger, only your mom said you couldn’t take her nice steak knives!”

He wraps the crook of his arm around my neck and pulls me in to a headlock to ruffle my hair. I stumble, laughing. “I was—”

Before Henry can answer, there’s a tug at my hand and I’m ripped away. I’m pulled up against Levi’s side and staring from a short distance at Henry, who goes quiet. I
nervously flatten my hair. Levi wraps his arm tightly around my waist. “Hey, Cross, do you think we should be heading home soon?” he whispers in my ear.

My eyes flit away from Henry, but I notice him straighten his skeleton shirt and take a few careful steps back.

“I…” I begin, but I’m not sure what to say. I keep my voice quiet, hoping no one else can hear. “I’m having a good time. Let’s stay out a little while
longer.”

Levi’s breath comes in short puffs against my earlobe. “You do seem to be having a nice time, but with Henry.”

I allow our pace to lag so that we can fall back from the pack. Nobody seems to notice except for Henry. “He’s just my friend, Levi.”

Levi’s fingers clutch hard at my side. “Maybe I should go home, then, and you two can hang out.” He says these words in this tone that’s supposed to be kind but sends a
shiver up my arms. A brief flash of pain erupts underneath my ribs. I picture myself being ripped away from him, and it’s like a hole is being torn through my gut.

“No.” I gasp. “I just…” I peer up at him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t—”

“Flirting?” He interrupts. He stares down at me hard and I squirm.

“I wasn’t,” I say.

Then he kisses my forehead. “It’s okay, Cross. Just…be good.”

I close my eyes, trying to focus on the feeling Levi’s lips leave on my skin. Meanwhile, my stomach is brewing with a strange mix of emotions. Tiny hair follicles rise on the back of my
neck, like the pressure in the air has dropped just before a storm and I can feel the first ghostlike fingers of its icy breeze pass through me.

I know that if I look over, Henry will still be watching.

Instead, I lift my chin and look into Levi’s eyes. I’m not sure what I expected—or rather, I am: I thought they’d be cold, hard, mean—but they’re not.
He’s Levi once again. My Levi. I reach down for his hand and squeeze it. Now’s not the time to start a fight. We can talk about this later.

I plant a long kiss on his lips before catching up to the group. Holding hands, we rejoin them at the spot where everyone else is stopped. I nuzzle into Levi’s neck, content to be free
from any pain or discomfort.
Later
, I assure myself, we’ll talk about the thing with Henry. Just not now.

Henry and I don’t acknowledge each other, and I realize that I’ve never felt further from him. There may as well be an ocean between us, and it’d be easy to stare longingly
across it, but I try not to, because the pang I feel for Henry is nothing compared to what it’d be like if I lost Levi.

“What are we doing?” I ask. The group is huddled at the end of the street, where Halloween spirit has apparently come to die. The rest of the avenue is buzzing with trick-or-treaters
and whoops and hollers and candy highs, but a single house on the corner is a vacuum for light. Darkness bathes the tall, skinny house with the pointy roof. A wire fence hems in the overgrown yard.
Weeds spill out through the chain link. Across the front gate, a sign warns that the house’s occupants will call the police on all trespassers.

Brynn separates from the group and walks up to the fence, lifting the bottom of the sign up for closer inspection. “What jerks,” she says, peering up at the blacked-out windows.
“There’s not even a bowl of candy left out. Do you think they tell kids that Santa Claus isn’t real, too?” She turns, a familiar glint in her eye. “Guys, I think
it’s time to add a little trick to our treat.”