I think she’s crying. I swear I didn’t do anything.”
Mom’s eyes got wide. “Go play video games.”
Mom was always harping on me to stop playing video games.
I went back into the living room before she could change her mind.
After what seemed like an eternity, Mom emerged from the
bathroom.
“What’s —”
She cut me off. “Listen, you’re not to say anything to Macal an about this, or anybody at school. Do you understand me?” I wasn’t used to her having such a harsh tone with me. “I need you to go to your room —”
“What?” I protested. “But I didn’t do any —”
Mom snapped her fingers at me. Great. Now Mom was mad at me.
She lowered her voice. “I need to have a private conversation with Macal an’s dad when he gets here. Now go to your room and I don’t want to hear another word about this.”
She folded her arms and I knew I had no choice but to do what
she said.
I went up to my room total y confused. But I did know one thing.
I would never understand girls.
26
Oh, wow.
What?
I final y realized what happened that day.
You’re just figuring this out now?
Yeah, I guess —
We’re not having this conversation.
I can’t believe I didn’t realize you got —
What part of we’re not having this conversation are you failing to comprehend?
Do you think I want to talk about this?
Then why are you talking about this?
Uh, never mind.
We better hurry up and discuss something manly to get your
dude points back up.
Yeah. Uh, me like meat.
Chicks.
Football.
Fire.
Brats.
Pedicures.
Okay, you promised you’d never mention that. I had a blister, I was just . . .
Excuses, excuses.
You’re the worst.
And you love me for it.
Yes, because I’m a total glutton for punishment. And one hundred percent pure man.
Stop laughing.
Seriously, stop laughing.
Macal an, it’s not that funny.
C H A P T E R T H R E E
“What if I got my hair cut?”
It was such a simple question Levi asked, but he
had no idea what a what-if question did to me. It was a game
I played with myself often. I had been doing it a lot that summer before eighth grade.
What if I hadn’t been the one to show Levi around on his
first day of school?
What if I hadn’t seen his keep calm and blimey on button
and opened up a conversation to see what else we had in
common?
What if Uncle Adam had never mentioned Wednesday
nights to Levi’s mom?
What if his mom wasn’t always around when I needed her?
But that’s the thing with the what-if game — you really
can never know the answer to the question. And maybe it’s
better that way.
Because underneath the surface what-ifs are much worse
ones.
What if you hadn’t forgotten your science book that day?
29
What if it hadn’t been raining?
What if the other driver hadn’t been texting?
What if Mom had paused for even three seconds before
leaving that day?
What if?
“Ah, Macallan?” Levi waved his hand in front of my face.
“What do you think?”
Levi removed the elastic from his hair and it fell a few
inches down his back. “I feel like I need a new start for eighth grade.”
I shrugged. “Might be nice.”
“Even a few of my buddies back home have finally cut
their hair.”
Back home.
I noticed that even though Levi had been here for nearly a
year, and his parents had no plans to move back to California,
he kept referring to California as “back home.” Like he hadn’t
fully been able to accept that this was now his home.
“So?” Levi asked.
It was then that I realized that he had walked us to the
hair salon at the mall.
“Right now?”
He hesitated for a few beats. “Why not?”
Twenty minutes later, he was seated in a chair, his hair
back in its familiar ponytail. The stylist grabbed it and then
worked her scissors across. And in a few short seconds, the
ponytail came loose.
Levi’s hands went directly to the back of his head. “So
30
crazy.” His voice sounded a little distant, like he couldn’t
believe it himself.
The stylist then handed me the hair. I studied it, thinking
about how long he’d been growing it out. About how Levi had
this whole other life before I met him. It hit me then about
what it must’ve been like to really start over.
In some ways, I felt like I’d had to start over after the accident. But I still woke up in the same bed, went to the same
school, had the same friends. There was something reassuring about waking up and knowing you were home. Hopefully,
Levi would get to the point where he would feel like this was
home to him.
I watched transfixed as more of Levi’s hair came cascad—
ing down around his chair. The stylist didn’t talk much,
concentrating on angles of his hair. When she was done cutting and styling, she turned Levi’s chair around and he faced
me. I hardly recognized him. His hair was now only about an