by K. A. Holt
Timothy comes in
eyes down
backpack swinging to the floor.
He looks up,
surprised cat number two.
Levi. Hi. What are you—
My face burns.
A cat on fire.
I’ve lost my words.
I try to smile.
Uh, hi, Timothy.
Can I borrow your pen?
I click it
for emphasis
but before he says yes or no
I run
back to the safety of my own desk
where I rest
my forehead on the cool surface
trying so hard
to be a cool cat
who isn’t killed
by its curiosity
(or its brother).
Timothy keeps a journal?
Who knew?!
Chess Club has a lot of practices
like
so
many.
They are all after school
and sometimes on Saturdays.
Chess Club is Very Serious
and Mrs. Rubrick
expects everyone to
BE RESPONSIBLE
and
NOT MISS PRACTICE.
Sometimes Chess Club
makes me sweaty
because I work so hard
coming up with strategies.
Sometimes Chess Club
makes me sunburned
because we practice outside
in the fresh air.
That’s what I tell Mom.
Because Chess Club also
makes me lie.
I went to that one session
in the schoolroom
with no windows
and lights that went
bzzzzzzzzzzz
bzzzzzzzzzzz
crackle
bzzzzzzzzzzz
and Mrs. Rubrick said
we would move to the library
for the next session
and for the next session
I did move . . .
behind the school
and up my tree
using my bare feet
and knees
and I could see the whole world
and so now all my strategies
will be whispered to me
from the tops of the trees
instead of in a dingy room
with grim buzzing bees
of light.
Should I feel guilty?
I ask myself this
from the tree
that is not Chess Club.
The squirrel
that is not Mrs. Rubrick
looks at me and makes a ticking noise
like
tsk, tsk, tsk, Levi.
Mom thinks
I’m at Chess Club
Mrs. Rubrick thinks
I quit.
But the clouds don’t think
about me at all.
The squirrel has already
run away
and my next gambit
in this game
is to hang out,
watch the sky,
and maybe climb high
my escape
a checkmate.
The giant head comes off
I squint to be sure
and yes,
yes!
It’s Lunch Kate
Dolphin Kate
Shark Kate
Kate is the one inside the mascot
doing a bunch of backflips.
Kate, Tam’s friend,
the sonar-challenged cheerleader.
I squint
I spy
from my roof-high
sights
and is that Tam?
In the bleachers?
Cheering Kate?
It is.
Looks like Tam’s Chess Club
is branching out, too.
Does Tam feel guilty
for lying about Chess Club?
She doesn’t know I know
she isn’t there.
And she doesn’t know
I’m here.
Which is weird, right?
Because that means
we’re technically
lying to each other, too.
If I had stayed in Chess Club
would Tam have stayed there, too?
Is she out cheering on Kate
because she has nothing else to do?
I feel itchy
super itchy inside
and I don’t think it’s the leaves
causing it this time.
Timothy picks me up
in front of school.
In the car
seat belt on.
How was Chess Club?
I shrug.
You’re lucky, you know.
I look out the window.
Imagine my skin
is made of four-leaf clovers.
Imagine pots of gold
shooting from the rainbows
Timothy must think
spring forth from my butt.
That you get to do this stuff.
You’re a lucky kid
don’t forget
that.
I mean, maybe sometimes
I feel lucky
when I’m at school
and make everyone laugh
or when I’m in my tree
and I feel like I can breathe
but there’s something about having someone
look at you
with tired eyes
with
while they say you’re lucky . . .
something that makes you feel
NOT so lucky,
you know?
With Timothy looking at me
I feel trapped
I feel so far from free
but I say nothing.
I watch the cars and other people.
They look like the lucky ones
not stuck in here with Timothy.
I once asked Timothy
about when he was in juvie.
You know what he said?
He made his voice sound
tough,
his lips pinched together.
He stood up straight.
He barked out
MAKE
GOOD
CHOICES
DAVIDSON!
like he was in the Army or something.
Then he laughed
and hugged me out of nowhere
and whispered in my ear
If you ever go to juvie
it would be the worst
disappointment
in
my
life.
How could I respond to that?
Was he including Dad?
Because the way Timothy acts
around Dad,
the way his mouth tightens,
his fists clench,
the breath blows from his chest
in spurts
I can tell
Dad has disappointed Timothy
more than losing ten million dollars
in the back of a bus
and watching someone else find it
and run away with it
and never getting it back.
And it would be worse than that
if I went to juvie?
W H O A
He won’t talk a lot about it.
He won’t say what he did to get there.
He does say the clothes were scratchy,
shoes like slippers
but not soft.
He says the food wasn’t as bad
as you’d think
(but Timothy eats chicken livers
on purpose
so I don’t trust his opinion on food).
He says the guards weren’t called guards
but they were always guarding.
He says he read
; so many books
but he can’t read any of the same ones again
because they make his brain
taste like juvie
whatever that means.
He won’t talk about the other guys, though.
He won’t talk about how they were.
Or any of his friends.
His eyes just kind of drift to the ceiling
and he bites his lip
like Mom does
when she pays bills
and then he tells me to do my homework.
Dad and I, in the stands
Tam is serving
I leap up
wave
holler
ready for my wink
when I see Kate
in the stands
and in a blink
she steals my wink!
Stands right up,
blocks my view
and Tam smashes the ball.
Did Tam notice
her wink was lost?
I guess not
because she goes on to score
a million more points
and I look at the scoreboard
like
What.
In my room
that feeling again
even with slow easy breaths
the air gets caught
stuck like a lump
at the top of my throat.
A knock.
I jump.
It’s Timothy:
Can we talk?
I’m glad he can’t see the lump.
I’m glad he doesn’t have to know.
Sure.
He’s going to medical school.
What!
Dr. Timothy?
What!
He’s so bossy I guess that makes sense
but he’s going to have to work on
his bedside manner.
Dr. Timothy wanted to tell me
before he tells Mom.
He’s going to take the MCAT in a few months
and then he will pick a school
(if he passes the test)
and apply
and get loans or maybe scholarships
and go there
and never have any money
or free time again
(not like he has money
or free time now)
and then he will be a doctor
and finally finally finally
he will be able to save us all
just like he’s always wanted.
(He didn’t say that last part
but it’s true.)
Mom doesn’t move
like a rabbit
trying to be invisible.
She says
Medical school?
Her eyes wide wide wide.
How will we pay for it?
I’ll get loans.
I’ll get scholarships.
I’ll figure it out.
But you have to take a test first.
To even get in.
Timothy nods again.
Then . . . you’ll be gone
at school
for years.
Well, I am almost twenty-four.
Most of my friends have been gone
for a long time.
His voice is quiet.
Mom and Timothy seem to be
having two conversations
one with their mouths,
one with their eyes
so I get up
go to my room.
I feel all mixed up inside.
When Timothy’s best friend, José,
joined the Army
Timothy was so sad.
He tried not to be.
He tried to be excited.
But one night I heard him
on the phone with Isa.
(Isa is his girlfriend.)
(His voice so low.
Was he crying?
I don’t know.)
And I remember so clearly
he said
You left.
José is leaving.
And I’m stuck here.
House arrest
all over again.
I didn’t ask him to stay here
and not join the Army.
I didn’t ask him to stay in his room
and not save the world.
I didn’t ask him to live at home
during college.
And he didn’t ask us.
He just did it.
So he can’t blame us.
We would be fine without him.
He wants to smother us
to keep us safe
which seems kind of backwards
to me.
It glows
like it knows my name.
Levi, it whispers.
Come here, it whispers.
Read my secrets, it whispers.
I try to ignore it
but it’s like those mermaids
who lure in sailors
and make them crash boats.
I know it’s stupid to get closer
but I can’t stop myself.
Timothy’s notebook
right there
on the kitchen counter.
I slam it shut
my breath in an elevator
stuck
between floors.
Slowly I open it again
the words in black ink,
messy writing.
I take Timothy’s pen from my back pocket
write:
Close the notebook.
Find my breath.
(Try to.)
Not always,
but sometimes
I need calm in my brain.
I need lightness.
I need a different kind of air.
So I find track 9,
put it on repeat,
and let the Cat Tornadoes
lull me
before they explode . . .
Sound shards
rocking me back to my feet
again.
I run fast
jump on Tam’s back
feet on her spine
hands on her head
she yell-laughs
leans forward
until I’m sitting on her shoulders
just like
climbing a Tam tree
and she screams
as she keeps laughing
which makes Mr. Schoop
roll his eyes
say
Cut it out, you two
and sit down.
I AM sitting down, I joke.
The whole class laughs
Mr. Schoop
snaps
his fingers
so I sit at my desk
but Tam winks
and I wink back
scoring all the points
I missed
the other night.
From the top of the tree
today
I can see
football practice.
The guys
smashing
helmets crashing.
The sharp tweet,
whistled beat,
jagged rhythm
for running feet.
I wonder what it would be like
to fly
to smash
bodies thrashing
into big piles.
How would it feel
your muscles
and bones
crushed like stones
under someone’s heels?
What if
you did the crushing
the stomping
the running?
Maybe instead of small
you’d feel huge.
Maybe it’s time
to pick my sport.
Maybe it’s time to finally choose.
Kate and Tam are laughing.
Some joke
I don’t know.
&nbs
p; Have you seen Kate, Levi?
I’m looking at her right now.
No, silly! I mean as the Falcon,
the mascot?
Tam is talking fast and excited.
Kate is so crazy!
So funny!
Levi, you should see her.
That’s me!
Kate says, pointing to a picture
on Tam’s phone.
Craziest kid in the school.
And when Tam says that
she looks right at me
and I think
hmmm.
Is that a challenge?
Lunch is over.
Tam time over.
See you later, Levi!
Kate’s voice is a singsong
like she’s so super extra happy
to run off with Tam
and get rid of me.
And Tam runs off with her.
Does she even see me
wave good-bye?
Lunch Kate.
Cheerleader Kate.
Falcon Kate.
Crazy Kate.
She thinks she’s hot stuff, huh?
Maybe I should show her what hot stuff
is really like.
Because I am a secret spy
who hangs out in trees,
I know practice
by the minute.
I know no one is in the locker rooms.
I know they’re all far away.
It’s so easy to sneak in,
I almost feel bad.
Almost.
She’ll never know it was me.
Kind of a shame, actually.
I would like some credit
for making Kate screw up her face,
for making her red-hot mad,
for making everyone laugh.
But then,
then,
as I find the falcon head
turn it upside down—
as I get out a paintbrush
I borrowed from art class
and the bottle of hot sauce
I borrowed from Mr. Schoop’s desk,
and my own eyes start to water—
before I do anything at all
I wonder if maybe this is too much.
Maybe it’s mean and not funny.
I don’t want to hurt her
I just want to—
What’s that?
In the corner?
Is it—
No—
A giant chicken head?
I laugh