Alive

by Chandler Baker

  She guides us past the seafood stalls where tattooed men in grimy aprons sling fish over the counters, and I narrowly miss getting slapped across the face by a flying silver-finned tuna.

  I’m relieved when we find ourselves walking alongside the glassy storefronts. We pass a half dozen or so before Brynn spots the black-and-yellow sign marking Le Panier Very French Bakery.

  A tiny bell jingles above the door as we enter. Turns out we’re not the only ones with this idea—the tiny bakery’s stuffed fuller than a jelly doughnut. And no wonder. The aroma’s nothing short of heavenly, a mixture of the scent of freshly baked croissants, sugar glaze, and a wood-burning oven.

  Brynn wedges her way in between a fat man in a suit and a woman yelling into a cell phone on her way up to the counter, while I wield the stroller as a bumper car. Brynn waves her arm erratically, trying to get the clerk’s attention. “McDaniel,” she shouts over the bakery’s hustle and bustle. “Order for McDaniel. Over here!” I maneuver next to her. “I called ahead,” she says. “Shouldn’t take long.”

  “Cookie,” Elsie says, pointing up from her stroller at the broad assortment of pastries and, yes, cookies in the display case. Her fingers smudge the glass over a waistline-busting moon pie.

  “No, Elsie,” I tell her firmly, pushing down her chubby arm. “Not before dinner.” The thought of a one-year-old on a sugar rush is enough to make me want to grab Brynn and hightail it out of here.

  Not to mention—I check my watch—it’s already four thirty.

  “Hello!” Brynn jumps up and down, flailing her arms. “McDaniel for pickup. Anybody?” She pushes to the cashier and leans over to talk to a girl with flour dashed over her cheeks and a matching white cap on. The girl disappears into the back but returns shaking her head.

  Brynn turns to me, throwing her hands up in the air. “They lost my order.”

  A woman in high heels balancing a cake box bumps into me, nearly tripping over one of the stroller wheels. I catch her elbow right before she topples over. “Sorry about that,” I mutter. She casts me a dirty look over her Le Panier box. “I think I better wait over there,” I tell Brynn, retreating to the front of the store with the stroller.

  With luck, I manage to find a chair and try my best to stay out of the way. Elsie’s still demanding that cookie and seems to think that she can ask anyone and everyone who passes by with a bakery bag, “Cookie?” Of course, she knows all of ten words, and cookie has to be one of them. The girl has her priorities straight.

  I watch Brynn gesticulate at the cashier and then prop herself up on the counter and peer over it. Typical Brynn.

  “Hi!” I’m startled by Elsie’s increase in volume. “Hi,” she squeals again. Her hand stretches out and I follow her reach.

  In the crowd of people all pushing toward the counter, I spot a single eye peeking out from behind two teenagers murmuring into one another’s ears. The eye blinks, then disappears behind the young couple. I lean for a better view and think I spot a swatch of dark brown hair. That was…I think, biting my lip. But, no, it can’t be.

  “Got them.” Brynn appears, brandishing a red bag. “Must have mixed up the names. You’d have thought I was trying to leave with a national treasure. Shall we?”

  I chance one last glance at the wall of customers and follow Brynn outside. “Let’s shop fast,” I tell her. “I need to get home.”

  “Before you turn into a pumpkin?”

  “Something like that.”

  Elsie cries only a little once the bakery is out of sight, at which point she realizes there won’t be any cookie today. After that she seems to forget—one of the big pluses of being one.

  I take deep breaths in the open air as I follow Brynn. There’s no place better for people watching than Pike Place. When I was younger, my dad would take me to the market. I remember he’d lift me up and let me touch all the fruit and veggies until I found the ripest ones. We’d watch the show at City Fish Co. and he’d let me get ice cream—a vanilla/chocolate swirl cone. Then we’d bring our finds back to Mom, most of which we didn’t really need, and she’d concoct some sort of creative dish for dinner. I, of course, had the most important part, since I’d done all the finding.

  I know it’s been years, but somehow you never expect your family to change.

  Brynn and I amble past the produce and all the other fresh-food stands to the section of the market where vendors sell handcrafted jewelry. I can’t help but sneak glimpses over my shoulder, but after a few quick scans, I join Brynn’s hunt, slipping on a few bauble rings with fake gems and a leopard-print scarf for good measure.

  Nothing’s catching my eye. Except for the time. How did it get away from me? My phone reads five o’clock.

  “Are you ready?” I ask, tapping my toe to let Brynn know she’s taking forever.

  She holds up two barbs, one blue and one hot pink. “Which one?” She holds each up to her ear.

  I huff. “Who cares? They’re rods you stick through your flesh, Brynn.”

  “I can’t decide.” She ducks so that she can better see her reflection. The number of people is starting to feel overwhelming. I check the time again, and my knuckles go white around the handles of the baby stroller.

  “Brynn?” I try to say as evenly as possible. “Do you mind watching Elsie for a sec? I need to find a restroom.”

  She nods, tilting her face one direction then the other to study her reflection. I can feel the seconds tick by.

  “Watch her, please!” I call over my shoulder. I hate to trust Brynn with my sister, if only because my parents would kill me if something happened.

  Stepping outside, I follow a path along the bricks toward the waterfront. Maybe the breeze will help. I’m already flushed. I spot the bay through a gap in the shops. My neck’s sticky and I stagger to the railing that separates the market from the sea below. I take a deep breath of ocean air and slump onto a stone bench. Why does this happen to me? And why won’t it stop?

  Salt sticks to my cheeks. The breeze sweeps across the water, whipping my ponytail into my face. I peel it back and pull out my cell. I watch as the digital lines on my clock arrange themselves into different numbers. A one becomes a four that becomes a six. My muscles are tense and alert, as if being ready will change anything. I’m alone out here. Away from the human traffic of Pike Place.

  Five oh eight.

  I shut my eyes. Maybe today it won’t come. Maybe today it’s different.

  But I’m only halfway through the thought when it begins. Small at first. I wonder, for an instant, if I can ignore it. But it grows.

  My heart abruptly squeezes like a sponge being wrung dry.

  The shock of the compression doubles me over and sweat springs up on my neck. The pain is minor at first. Tricky. Slight but still enough to allow me to lie to myself. This will be it. This isn’t so bad. I can deal with this much. Even this much, I bargain.

  But it grows, and before I know it someone has lit a sparkler inside me.

  I imagine my brain on a CT scan exploding with color. Pain everywhere. I bite into my fist and crumple into the fetal position.

  Then, before the pain reaches its crescendo, it disappears all at once. “Stella?” The voice is boyish. Clear. “Stella?” The pain is gone so fast it seems it was never there. Someone pats my face and it’s as if I’ve been saved. “Are you okay?”

  My eyelids flutter open. I blink once, twice, and stare up at what should be the gray sky.

  “Can you hear me?”

  Dark, almond eyes stare down at me. He cradles my head in his lap and wipes sweat from my forehead. I can hardly believe the clean, smooth feeling in my chest.

  “Levi?” I can’t believe I just said that. He’ll think I’m a stalker.

  He chuckles. “Good, you know who I am. I was worried you’d think I was some bum off the streets.”

  I stare at him blankly. Words, Stella. Any word will do. Say something. Anything, I plead with myself.

  “Um, yeah, calculus,”
I say, crawling upright. Brilliant, Stel.

  His smile, though, is megawatt. “Yeah, I noticed you in there.” There’s a tiny bead of water hanging from a tuft of hair on his forehead, like he must have walked through pouring rain earlier today or arrived from a photo shoot under a waterfall. Meanwhile, I probably have mascara smudged underneath my eyes and the stringy hair of a wet shih tzu.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  He raises an eyebrow. “I’m rescuing you. Do you have a habit of shrieking and passing out on public benches?” I don’t remember making any noise at all.

  “Low blood sugar,” I lie. “Started feeling faint and then—”

  “Then I saw you lying here white as a sheet and panicked.” He shakes his head and stares out at Elliott Bay. “I was about to call the damn coast guard.”

  “Seems like a lot of people for one girl,” I say dryly.

  “Well…” He winks. “You gave me a scare, Cross.”

  I squint at the glare from the clouds. He knows my last name, too? He hands me my purse and my wallet, which had slipped out. My hopes take a nosedive.

  I swallow hard. He must know the effect he has on girls, right? “So.” Unsure of what to do, I figure I ought to at least make conversation.

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what brings you to Duwamish after the start of senior year? Can’t exactly be the easiest time to switch schools.”

  He bends his head down, wrinkling his forehead. “You sure you’re okay? That looked pretty serious. Can I—?”

  I wave him off. “I’m fine.” And it’s the truth. I actually feel perfectly well. Amazing even. “School?”

  He narrows his eyes and lets his gaze linger on my face another moment before continuing. “Bit of a life change, you could say.”

  I play with my shoelaces. “Is that code for ‘got expelled’?” I ask before I can stop myself.

  “No, it’s not code for ‘got expelled.’” He runs his hands through his hair. That had to be him in the bakery, I realize, but, if so, why did he hide? “Be honest. Is that what everyone thinks?”

  “I’d say roughly seventy percent.”

  This time he actually laughs. “Super.”

  A seagull swoops in close and pecks at some chips scattered on the ground. I try to focus on that instead of how close I’m sitting to Levi Zin. Just being next to him makes me feel like spilled grape juice on white carpet.

  “You’re not exactly answering my question,” I point out.

  He looks straight at me, his mouth pinched to the side. “Well, I have known you for approximately three minutes, Stella Cross.”

  “I—I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I just—”

  He cracks his knuckles using the side of his knee. “That’s okay. Let’s just say not everything or everyone can last forever.” He picks a pebble off the ground and tosses it into the bay.

  I nod, biting my lip to keep myself from asking yet another question and then, because my brain has to know the answer to everything, I mentally recategorize Levi from troubled dropout to a kid grieving the loss of someone close to him. I fight the urge to reach out and give him a hug.

  “So, do you like it so far?”

  He hums at a level that’s almost inaudible—a sexy baritone. The tune is familiar but I can’t place it. “Could be worse. I had friends at my old school. You know, guys I grew up with since elementary. I don’t exactly love the idea of jumping into that dynamic somewhere else, I guess.”

  “I know the feeling,” I say without thinking.

  Levi cocks his head. “Are you new also?”

  I shake my head quickly. “No, but I had to take some time off—and, I don’t know, it’s hard to get plugged back in.”

  He lets a few moments slide past in silence. “Mono?”

  I let out a breathy laugh. “Something like that.”

  “I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.” I know that he’s teasing, but the intensity of his stare still makes my toes curl.

  “Well, I have known you approximately three minutes, Zin,” I reply. The contents of my stomach perform rhythmic gymnastics.

  Something passes over Levi’s face. Sadness? Anger? It’s a flash of an expression that leaves an imprint like the white spots beneath your eyelids the moment after a photo’s been taken. One moment, that’s it, and then it’s gone. “Do you want to go out Friday night?” he asks.

  It’s a good thing I’m sitting down.

  I find Brynn leaned up against my Jetta with a big wet stain stretching from her collarbone to the top of her bra. I grimace. Three guesses how she got it.

  “Do I look like a thirteen-year-old girl with no job and braces?” she demands, fists rammed into her hips. “I am not your babysitter.” She tosses the car keys at me. “You left them in the stroller pouch. Your little devil is inside. Enjoy.”

  “Wait!” I all but shout at her. The thought of having to keep this inside for even one more moment will kill me. “I have a good excuse. Promise.”

  She halts her revolution and lifts the pierced eyebrow.

  I’m sure my face is bright red, but I feel it turn maroon as I say, “Two words, Brynn: Levi Zin.”

  “I’m listening.”

  I hop onto the trunk of my car and put my head in my hands, ruffling my hair because I still can’t believe it. “He asked me out! He asked me out.”

  “Where the hell did you go? I thought you went to the bathroom.”

  “I, uh, I ran into him. On the way.” I’m not ready to share the whole story. I don’t want anyone else knowing that I’m not one hundred percent better. Not yet anyway.

  “He asked you out?” she says, as if finally registering it. Then she smirks. “On the way to the bathroom?”

  “Shut up.” I wrap a strand of black hair around my finger and twirl. I’d forgotten what it felt like to talk about normal girl things. News other than what my iron levels were and how I was feeling that week. “He asked me out,” I repeat. “But it’d be okay to tone down the surprise just a hair.”

  “Sorry. No, I mean why wouldn’t he?” She rolls her eyes. “Come on, you know that’s not how I meant it.”

  “I know, I know.” I peer through the back windshield to check on Elsie. Thankfully, she seems to be engrossed in a serious chat with her stuffed penguin, Mr. P.

  “So, details, please!”

  “We’re going out Friday night.” Brynn sucks in a mouthful of air. “What?” I ask, suspicious.

  “I hate to break it to you, but that’s the night you’re going to the concert with Henry.”

  Her statement takes a moment to sink in, and when it does, I groan. “Ugh, you’re right,” I say, smacking my forehead with my open palm. “How could I have forgotten?”

  “I have a few guesses.”

  “What do I do, Brynn?”

  “Do you really need me to tell you?”

  I glare at her and jut out my lower lip. “No.”

  “It’s Henry, Stel. You can’t blow him off.” Yes, it’s Henry, I want to say, but what does that mean? “If you still feel this way after the concert, then—”

  “Then you’re implying it’s a date with Henry, when I don’t think that’s the case.”

  “Don’t be an idiot. It’s a date and you knew it when you agreed. You can take your naive ingenue routine elsewhere, thank you very much.” Brynn unfolds her arms and takes pity on my pouting face. “Look, Levi asked you out once. I’m sure he’ll ask you out again.”

  “Not if someone else gets there first.” I pout. He’s only just started at Duwamish. Running into him out here was pure luck.

  Wasn’t it?

  And what happens when he realizes I’m not the most popular girl at school. Or the prettiest?

  “Come on.” Brynn shoves my shoulder playfully. “They have nothing on you.” But she’s only being nice.

  “Since when did you become the moral police?” I huff.

  “Please, I’m an angel.” At that, I laugh out
loud, because there’s nothing angelic about Brynn McDaniel. “You should have just told Henry you weren’t interested, Stel.”

  Through the back windshield, I see that Elsie is now beating Mr. P’s head against the seat. “But I’m not not interested.” The truth is, I was excited when Henry asked me out before my surgery, but the last thing I wanted was some sick-girl pity party. And worse, what if I hadn’t survived? Then Henry would have been forced to mourn my death for, like, fourteen months as the sad, dutiful boyfriend of three and a half days? Not on my watch. “I liked him before…you know…and I’ll probably like him again. I’m just, I don’t know, I met Levi and—”

  “Sparks?”

  Sparks, an inferno, take your pick. I sigh. “It’s complicated.” I tap the glass and for a second Elsie pauses in her quest to beat the cotton stuffing out of her penguin’s head.

  “It’s not a fucking mathematical equation,” Brynn says.

  Elsie stares up at me. Her tiny lower lip is starting to get wet and slimy, the way it does right before a good, solid cry. I’ve only got a minute before the real screaming starts. This wouldn’t be half as difficult if I didn’t want to shove my tongue in Levi’s mouth every time I laid eyes on him. “Fine, I’ll cancel my date with Levi, okay?”

  Brynn pinches my cheeks. “Look at you, heart of gold.”

  I think of Levi’s throaty baritone voice, the sound the tips of his shoelaces made on the pavement, and the way I wanted to reach up and smooth his rumpled collar. My chest seizes with something almost like anger at the idea of not seeing him on Friday. I don’t know about my old heart, but this one is anything but gold.

  “Turns out I can’t go Friday.”

  This is officially my third out-of-body experience this month. What’s wrong with me?

  The corners of his mouth turn down and he manages to look perfectly adorable. My heart twists painfully, like it might be wrenched free of its arteries. I hadn’t known I’d feel this guilty.

  “You’re canceling? Why?” There’s a quick twitch that wrinkles his forehead near the brow bone. A glance down to his lap and then back up to me.

  “No!” I jump in. “I mean yes, but not because I want to. To cancel on you, I mean.” I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to cancel on you, but I am canceling on you, so yes. Sorry, these plans were made before, so yeah, that’s what I’m doing.” Cool, desperate, cool, desperate. Get a grip, Stella.