by Ashley Royer
I look up from the field to see Delia waving through the fence. I go over to her and smile.
“Last game of the season,” she says, smiling widely. “You better win.”
“I’m so nervous,” I tell her.
“Why? You’re, like, the best player!”
I feel my cheeks blush. “I’m just not feeling too good about tonight. Have you seen the other team?”
“Yeah, you can beat them, though. Don’t be so nervous. I can be your good luck charm. If you get nervous, I’ll be here to cheer you on. Even if you lose, I’ll still cheer you on.”
I laugh. “Just please don’t yell my name when I’m on the field. I lose focus.”
“I can’t make any promises.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
She sticks out her tongue and smiles widely. “That’s one of the reasons I was put on this earth. On the seventh day God said, “There shall be a Delia to distribute her looks and delightful smile throughout the world.”
“Why can’t it just be for Levi Harrison?” I whine, sticking out my bottom lip.
“You, Levi, are my universe. But you can’t steal me from the world. They need someone as fantastic as me too.”
“Levi? You okay?” I hear Aiden ask, breaking my thoughts.
I blink a few times, since my vision has blurred. My sight refocuses, and I’m still fixated on the spilled popcorn. I look up at Aiden, who is staring at me. So is Delilah.
“You zoned out for a few minutes. You looked so focused,” Aiden says.
I scrunch my eyebrows and rub my eyes, trying to get rid of the memory.
I hate when I get random flashbacks. They always come at the worst times, and they can happen anywhere. Just when I’m not expecting it, one comes. It messes with my brain and causes my emotions to take over. Every time they happen, I feel like I sink deeper and deeper into sadness—and someday, I might not be able to get back up.
I look around the park to distract myself and forget about the flashback. I count how many people are here so far. There are seventeen. I see a concession stand at the opposite end of the park and get off the bleachers.
“Where are you going?” Aiden asks.
Can’t he just let me be? I don’t get why I’m questioned for every single thing I do. I roll my eyes and point to the concession stand.
“Oh, I’ll come!” Delilah says. “I was gonna go anyway.”
Great. Just who I wanted to be with. I don’t like being around her. There’s something about her that makes me nervous and angry and sad all at once. I think it’s because she reminds me of Delia.
“Get me a hot dog!” Aiden yells as we leave.
We walk over to the stand in silence, which isn’t surprising. I live in silence.
Once we get there, I notice how Delilah frequently changes the position she stands in while we wait. First she has her arms by her sides, then crossed in front of her, then her hands are on her hips. It’s like she can’t find a comfortable standing position. I wonder if she knows that she’s doing it. Maybe she’s nervous about something.
“What do you want?” the lady at the counter asks me, sounding bored and tired.
I point to a pretzel.
“Excuse me, what is it?” the lady at the counter says.
I pull out my phone to type the answer, but Delilah starts to order.
“We’ll get a pretzel and two hot dogs.”
I’m taken aback by how she knew what I wanted. Most people get confused when I point to things, because they’re unable to tell what I point to. But she understood.
She looks up and smiles awkwardly at me as we wait.
“Is this the first game you’ve been to here?” she asks.
I nod.
I don’t know why she’s being nice to me, since I’ve been nothing but rude to her. And I probably will continue to be rude. That’s who I am. Being rude is easier than breaking down.
“Here you go. That’ll be $4.50,” the lady says.
I reach into my wallet to pull out money for my pretzel, as this time I have American money.
“It’s fine, I got it,” Delilah tells me. Before I can pay, she gives the lady a five-dollar bill.
When people are nice to me, I start to question if it’s pity. She probably feels bad for me. She probably knows a little bit about me since she works at my therapist’s office, which gives her even more of a reason to feel sorry for me. I don’t want people’s sympathy.
We get our food and head back to the bleachers. Delilah points out different people at the game and tells me about them. So and so has an obsession with pickles, this guy has been married four times, that girl is from Italy. It’s like she knows everyone. As she talks, I get the feeling this is a close-knit town. I’m an outsider, and I think I always will be. Just like everywhere else I go.
We watch the game, which is as boring as I remember it. It’s just a bunch of boys trying to get a goal and running around the field. I don’t understand how people enjoy it. I don’t understand how I once enjoyed it.
The game goes on for almost two hours. My dad’s team lost, which means Aiden’s brother lost.
“Aiden!” his brother, Hunter, says as he runs over to him. “We didn’t win.” He frowns and looks down at his feet.
“It’s okay, you always have next year! I think you did amazing!” Aiden tells him, giving him a hug.
Hunter shrugs. “I guess so.”
“Tomorrow, you and I will go out for ice cream and do whatever you want. How’s that sound?” Aiden says.
Hunter’s face lights up. “Really? That’d be awesome!”
“It’s a deal then. I’ll see you tonight when I get home, and we can plan our day.”
“Where are you going?” Hunter asks, pouting again.
“I told you . . . I’m, uh, hanging out with Delilah and some friends.”
Delilah raises an eyebrow at Aiden. I wonder what’s happening.
Hunter shrugs. “Okay, I’ll see you later then. We’re going out for pizza!”
“Have fun!” Aiden yells as Hunter runs to his mom.
My dad comes over looking extremely tired. He rubs the side of his face and yawns.
“I am worn out,” he mumbles.
“It was a close game,” Aiden tells him.
My dad nods. “I’ve gotta go take the team out for pizza,” he tells me. I sigh. I do not want to go out for pizza with a bunch of annoying boys. I thought pizza was only for winners, anyway.
“Well, he can hang out with us,” Delilah says. “We’re gonna be with a few friends.”
Aiden shoots her a wide-eyed glare, and she just smiles.
“That’d be great! It’d give you a chance to meet some kids, right, Levi? Go ahead, it’ll be fun!” my dad says.
I glare at my dad. What’s worse? Twelve-year-old boys or people my age? I debate for a few seconds before my dad speaks up again.
“Have fun, Levi,” he says, walking away.
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I guess I had no choice in that decision, as usual.
Aiden whispers something to Delilah, and she shrugs.
“We’re going to a little party. It won’t be anything too big,” she tells me. “Let’s go.”
I follow them to the car, and I’m overcome with anxiety. I’m always hesitant getting into cars with people, especially people I don’t know that well. I should have thought of that sooner before I “agreed” to go with them. I look around to see if my dad has already left, and the spot he parked in is now empty. I have to go with Delilah and Aiden—I have no choice.
“C’mon,” Aiden says, motioning me to get in the car.
I type quickly into my phone, “How long have you had your license?”
“Almost a year,” Delilah says. She glances over at Aiden quickly.
I nod and take a deep breath. “Have you ever gotten into an accident?”
“No.”
“She’s a really good driver,” Aiden says. “Don’t worry.”
Telling me not to worry will not make my anxiety level decrease. Regardless, I take a deep breath and sit in the back seat.
A little party.
There are at least ninety people here, and it’s not even that late. We shove through a bunch of people to get into whoever’s house this is. The house is huge. People are all over the yard, and there are even more inside. Loud music is blaring, and the stench of alcohol and sweat surrounds me.
I notice some people are staring at me, mostly girls. Maybe it’s because I’m new here. No one has ever seen me before. I’m used to being looked at like I’m different, though. I am different.
A girl dashes out of the house, mascara running down her face. She’s sobbing uncontrollably as she leaves. Her boobs seem to defy gravity as they bounce with each step. I try not to stare.
“Aiden! Delilah!” someone screams from behind me. “You made it!” I turn around to see a blonde girl with a beer in her hand. She’s wearing a tight black dress that seems like it’ll burst at any second. She pushes through some guys and walks over to us, stumbling in her heels.
Aiden rolls his eyes and waves.
“Who’s this?” she asks, looking over at me. “You’re ca-ute.” She points to me and taps my chest weakly. She smiles and takes a sip of her drink, half of it missing her mouth.
“Taylor, this is Levi. Levi, this is Taylor,” Aiden mumbles. “Nice seeing you. Good-bye.”
Aiden grabs my wrist and pulls me away.
“She’s extremely drunk,” Aiden mumbles.
No, really, I couldn’t tell.
“She moved here three years ago. She used to hang out with us, until she became, ya know . . . That. Whenever she’s drunk, which is a lot, she believes we’re still friends. She’s a clingy drunk. I’d stay away.”
I nod.
We walk through the house to the most crowded room. Delilah and Aiden say hi to a lot of people—they definitely know almost everyone. I don’t know if they’re popular around here, or if everyone just knows one another.
I look around, taking in my surroundings. People are dancing on the table and making out all over the place. Two guys continuously slap each other in the face, screaming the whole time.
I hate parties.
I nervously crack my knuckles and run my hand through my hair. My anxiety is increasing every minute. We’ve only been here for about twenty minutes, and I already can’t take it. I can’t handle all these people and the atmosphere. The loud music has already given me a headache, and I can feel the beat in the pit of my stomach. It makes me want to throw up.
“Do you want a drink?” Aiden asks me.
I shake my head no.
I refuse to drink because I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll get drunk and speak. And I cannot talk. Ever. Who knows what I’d say if I were drunk. I could tell someone something personal, really personal. That is one of my biggest fears.
After a few minutes of talking, Aiden and Delilah go off to do whatever. I don’t really pay attention to where they went. I’m too busy trying to breathe. I stand in the corner of the kitchen, away from everyone. I try to calm myself, but I can feel an anxiety attack coming. I lean against the counter, resting my head on my hand.
“You okay?” some girl asks me, raising her eyebrows.
I wave her off, and she shrugs before walking away.
I am not okay. I will never be okay.
Taylor walks over to me and leans against me.
“So, Levi, right?” she asks. She giggles. “You’re so cute. I like that,” she says, pointing to my lip ring. Her finger touches my lip, because she’s so close, and I can smell all the alcohol she drank. “Wanna go do something?” She wiggles her eyebrows and laughs again.
I look away and shake my head.
“Oh, so you’re one of those guys. Playing hard to get, huh?”
The kitchen becomes crowded as people lie down on the counter and drink alcohol off each other. Everyone is screaming and chanting and laughing. I wonder how people can act like this. They’re so immature and disgusting.
I’ve never liked parties.
I push away from Taylor and walk away from her.
“Levi, come back!” she whines.
I start to become lightheaded, so I stumble down the hall and try to find an empty room. I finally locate one upstairs, after several awkward encounters with other people. I go inside and lock the door so no one can come in.
Breathe, Levi.
I check the time on my phone. 10:34. I’ve been here for almost an hour.
My heart is racing, and my hands are shaking. I sit on the edge of the bed and hang my head in my hands, trying to relax. My breathing is abnormal, and I’m sweating.
Now is not the time.
I can feel the tingles throughout my whole body start to increase. Soon I’ll be shaking furiously.
No, stop, please.
I can hear my heart pounding. It’s louder than the music that continues to blare. Everything seems to get louder and quieter all at once.
My vision is blurry, fading in and out. I look at my hands, which are shaking uncontrollably. I feel like I’m in a daze.
This has happened before—a lot, actually—when I’m around too many people. This is why I avoid being in crowded public places. This is why I like to be alone. A few friends is different from a party of one hundred people.
My breathing increases as I try to relax, but nothing is working. The music gets quieter, and then everything is silent. All I can hear is my heart racing, and the ringing in my ears. All I can feel is my shaking body. I feel like I’m stuck in an earthquake. Except the earthquake is myself, and there’s no escape.
Why does this happen to me? Why do I deserve all this?
My thoughts become jumbled as I try to do what my therapist told me.
Count to ten.
I slowly count to ten.
It doesn’t work.
Breathe in through your nose and out through y
our mouth.
I do that a few times.
It doesn’t work.
I squeeze my fists repeatedly, another thing my therapist told me. It makes me focus on something other than my panic attack.
I just have to let the anxiety run through my body. I can’t do anything to stop it. It could last for a while, or it could be over in a few minutes.
The violent shaking continues to increase. I need to stop this.
Xanax.
I fumble in my pockets for my wallet, looking for my pill.
C’mon. I have to have some in here. I always carry it with me.
I finally find it and quickly run to the bathroom that’s connected to the room. Thankfully, no one is in here. I swallow the pill with some water and sit down on the cold tile floor to let it sink in.
The symptoms slowly fade away.
It’s 11:01.
There’s a text from my dad.
Hope you’re having fun. Be home by 12.
Oh, yeah. I’m having tons of fun. Just hanging out with my anxiety. We’re having a swell time.
I lean my head back against the wall and squeeze my eyes shut. Finally, my body is still. I’m all right.
A light turns on, and I snap my head toward the bathroom door.
“Levi, are you okay?”
Why can’t I just be alone?
Chapter Nine
LEVI
I was worried when I couldn’t find you.”
Delilah comes and sits beside me on the cold tile floor. She looks at me with wide eyes. She seems scared and very concerned.
I move over a little so she’s not so close.
“What happened? Did someone do something to you?” she whispers. She’s talking quietly, but there’s no one around that would be able to hear us.
I shake my head no, not looking up at her.
Instead, I watch her through my peripheral vision, and can tell she notices my abnormal breathing and my shaky hands as I reach up to fix my hair.