* * *

A nurse sat Dad in an open room and hooked him up to a machine that dripped liquids into his body. He hollered at them for missing his veins, calling them idiots, but the nurses remained unfazed by his attitude. I sat next to him in a chair, wondering if it was working, if those chemicals were saving him. Then I remembered what Aria’s mother had said about stage four lung cancer, and I tried my best not to get my hopes up.

I liked how Mrs. Watson was honest with me, but comforting at the same time.

There was a small table with graham crackers and juice boxes of which I helped myself. Dad scolded me, telling me the snacks were only for the sick people, but Nurse Maggie told me that family was welcome to the treats, too.

About thirty minutes later, a girl from school walked in with her mom. I figured she was in my shoes, helping her mom out, but when she was the one sitting down in the chair and being hooked up to the machines, I realized I was nothing like her.

Her skin was pale, ghostly, but she didn’t look sad. Not even scared. The same couldn’t be said about her mother. Her mother was terrified as she held her daughter’s hand.

“It’s okay, Mom,” the girl said, a large smile on her lips. “It will get better after this.”

She was comforting her mother while she was living some of the darkest days of her life.

I tried not to pay attention to her, but every now and then I would glance over.

* * *

“Where were you yesterday?” Aria asked at the bus stop. Simon was normally the first one to the corner, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen yet. I was certain he would be there soon enough.

I smiled at Aria and held my backpack straps. “Did you miss me that much?”

“No,” she huffed, kicking her shoe in a circular motion. “We were supposed to work on our project in art class yesterday and try to figure out what we were going to do, that’s all. Now we’re a day behind everyone else because of you.”

“Hold your horses, missy. I didn’t go ’round blaming you when you missed school for a week.”

“That was different,” she whispered, her moving shoe coming to a halt. “I had the flu, and I sent you a message with what books on abstract artwork to check out from the library.”

“Isn’t it called morning sickness?” I asked.

“I’m not answering that,” she replied, rubbing her fingertips against her eyebrows. She wasn’t wearing any makeup this morning and looked perfect. If I hadn’t known any better, I might’ve thought she was make-believe.

“Why not?” She kept so much to herself, it didn’t seem fair. I wondered often about who the father of the baby was, but it wasn’t my place to ask. If she wanted me to know, she would’ve told me. But then again, maybe she didn’t know that I was available to listen. “You can talk to me, ya know…about the pregnancy, if you need someone to talk to. I’m not even sure if you ever talk about it, but I want you to know that if you need a person to speak to, my ears are available for the conversation.”

Her nose wrinkled up, and she slapped her forehead as the school bus pulled up. “Geez, Levi! It’s hardly seven in the morning and you’re already annoying me. This isn’t boding well for how our day with one another is going to go.”

My lips turned up into a bigger smile. She was so cute when she was bitchy. “Too early for baby talk?”

“Way, way too early. A lifetime too early. Like, if we died, came back to life, died, came back to life again, died again, and came back again, it would still be too early to talk about it. You understand?”

“Completely.”

“Good.”

“So…we’ll resume the baby conversation around lunchtime today?”

“Why are you so freaking crazy?”

“Because my mama raised me that way,” I replied, allowing her to step onto the bus before me. “Which brings me to my next question: can I eat lunch with you and Simon? I mean, I know we normally have some hardcore staring contests from across the cafeteria, but I reckon we could continue our staring contests at the same table.”

“You make it really hard for me to be annoyed with you when you use that ridiculous accent of yours.” She smiled playfully. I liked that side of her.

“I can talk more like you if you want.” I switched my voice to my best Midwest sound. “How about we have a double deep-fried corn dog and then eat a brat and get a sip of water from the bubbler?”

“Ohmyfreakinggosh, a double deep-fried corn dog sounds so good right now.” I swear she actually drooled from the thought. “With ranch dressing.”

I wasn’t sure if that was a pregnant thing or just a weird Wisconsin thing, but there was a significant chance it was both.

When she said that I could eat lunch with them, I did a dance, which she told me to never do again.

So of course I did it again before I sat down beside her. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Seeing as how Simon isn’t here, I think this leaves an open invitation for me to sit next to you on the bus.”

“You’re pushing it today, Levi. You want to sit with me at lunch and on the bus?”

I nodded. “But it’s also so we can work on our project together. I figured if we are going to make this project the best we can, we need to start getting you in touch with good music.” I dug into my backpack and pulled out my CD player, then handed her one of my ear buds.

“What is that?” she said, a look of bewilderment in her eyes.

“A CD player?” I replied, confused by her confusion.

“People don’t use CD players anymore, Levi. That’s weird.”

“Um, maybe normal people don’t, but seeing as how I am clearly a total hipster, I think it’s safe to say that this is the new hip thing to do. The old hipsters listen to vintage records, which, let’s face it, sound freaking amazing in person, but they are such a hassle to drag around town. An old school CD player still holds that cool, authentic hipster feeling, and weighs quite a bit less than a record player. So, mainly what I’m saying is it’s an honor for you to experience the magic that’s about to happen in your ear. It’s going to be like an explosion of color.”

“Are you always so awake in the morning?” she joked.

“Every day.”

She placed the ear bud in her ear, and I placed the other in mine. I hit play.