because I posted twice in two days, you guys have to say ONE NICE THING about the other guy here. if you're #teamlevi, say something nice about Jack. and vice versa for #teamjack :)

♔

"I thought we had an deal," Levi says as I sit down. "I teach you to skate and, in exchange, you never sit next to me ever again."

"So you're telling me you haven't enjoyed the past few weeks of me sitting next to you and stealing your pens?" I say, getting out my notebook. I make a show of looking for a pen in my backpack, to no avail. "And here I thought we were becoming friends."

"In the same way that a parasite is friends with its human host," he says, handing me the pen he was holding. I take it without a word, hiding a smile. There's probably a stack of his 'loaned' pens lost somewhere in my backpack.

"So I'm the parasite in this friendship?" I ask, writing down the announcements written upfront on the whiteboard. "And you're just the poor human host that has to put up with me?"

"I'm glad you're able to come to your own conclusions, Crimson," he says, patting me teasingly on the top of my head. "It's a beautiful thing to watch a child's critical thinking skills begin to develop."

I laugh. "Thank you, I'm trying really hard. I learned to count up to thirty last week. I also finally nailed my ABCs."

He opens his mouth in mock-astonishment. "That's great. Let me test you. Finish the sentence: F is for . . ."

"Fuck you."

"Wow. You really are making fast progress." He pulls another black pen out of his backpack, identical to the one he just gave to me, and starts twirling it habitually.

I smile brightly at him. "I know."

Class starts and Professor Pavil confirms that we've all turned in our individual projects that were due today. After checking in on our progress for our individual research assignments, he goes into an in-depth description of an extra-credit pair project that will be due after Thanksgiving Break. Since my grade is already pretty solid in this class and I don't need extra-credit, I start doodling in my notebook, zoning out.

"You in?" Levi asks after the professor stops speaking, giving us time to discuss the projects with one another. "Also, what the hell did you draw on your paper? Did you have a stroke while taking notes?"

I look down at my drawing, offended. "It's a toilet."

"A toilet."

I laugh at his reaction. "Yes, a toilet. It's not meant to be a Picasso. I'd appreciate it if you removed the judgement from your tone. I think it's pretty good."

"I think," he says slowly, "that you'd better stick to dancing. And your ABCs."

"I appreciate your input, but I will politely disregard it," I say. "So what were you saying before you attacked my artwork?"

"Oh, yeah. Are you down to do the extra credit with me? I think it'd be an easy grade."

I shake my head and begin to draw a turd in the toilet bowl. "Nah. I don't need the grade, and I don't really think I have the time. Besides, I wasn't really listening when he was giving instructions."

"Crimson," he whines dramatically. "It's just a 5-minute short film. Nothing insane, just something about something that you're passionate about."

I snort, drawing flies around the turd. "Passion? What shared passion would we even do it on? I don't think we could make a film about our passion for annoying each other. Or me stealing your pens."

"Those ideas are tempting," he replies, "but I was thinking about doing it on your dancing. I assume you're passionate about it. And I hope you're good."

"Levi, I really don't need the credit," I repeat. I start ripping the picture of the toilet out of my notebook.

He thinks for a second. "Listen, you won't even have to do any of the work. I just need a partner and a subject for the film, so I'll just make the film about you and put both our names on it. Light work."

I sigh, taking a small tape dispenser from my backpack. Then I tape the toilet picture to the front of his notebook. He doesn't move take it off. I look at the dramatic pleading look in his eyes. I cave.

"Fine, fine," I say. "You can do your little highlight reel on my dancing."

"Great. When do you practice?"

"Every weekday for two to three hours. You can come by today to get some shots while I practice the solo for my audition," I say. "Should I write the address on a piece of paper like you did, or should I just text it to you like a normal person?"

"Text should be fine, thanks for asking. Are you gonna be wearing a tutu?"

I turn to him. "I don't know. Do you wear a Thrasher t-shirt every time you skateboard?"

"When it's not dirty. I only have one," he jokes. "I'm assuming you have more than one tutu. A pink one, a white one, a black leather one for those special dances . . . "

"Are you trying to make me change my mind about doing this with you?"

"Nope," he answers. "I just read somewhere that maintaining conversations is good for children's mental development. Let's see, S is for . . ."

"Suck my dick," I finish the phrase.

"I'm glad you're comfortable enough to admit that you're a hermaphrodite," he says. "But I'm gonna have to decline the offer to go down on you."

"Why? Scared you'll find out that mine is bigger than yours?"

"Depends. Is yours 10 inches long? Because that's the only way that it would top mine."

I raise my eyebrow. "I think you're getting inches confused with millimeters. But don't worry, your 9-millimeter equipment will make a man very happy one day."

"That is so sweet of you to—"

A loud slam to my right jolts us both out of our conversation. As we were talking, neither of us had realized that the discussion around the classroom had died down. It's dead silent.

We both look up at our professor, who's picking up the textbook that he just slammed on the end of our table to get our attention. "Ms. Maddox and Mr. Easton. Are you two done with your discussion? The rest of us are waiting."

We both nod.

He gives a satisfied smile and begins to walk back up to the front of the classroom. "Great. I'm eager to see how you two will integrate hermaphroditism and micropenises into your passion project. That should be very interesting," he says with his back toward us.

I feel blood rush to my face, and I hear Levi stifle a laugh beside me.

"I'll kill you," I mumble, turning away from him so he doesn't see the smile on my face.

♔

A car pulls up beside me as I ride my longboard down the sidewalk to my dorm. "Wassup shawty, need a ride?" A voice says to my left through the car window.

Without even turning to the person, I say, "Go away, Archer."

Archer turns right when I turn right, staying at the perfect speed to ride alongside me. "Come on," he says. "You've been avoiding me ever since the home opener. Talk to me, Scar. You can't hold a grudge for this long."

"You of all people should be well aware of just how long I can hold a grudge," I reply, trying to speed up to lose him. But Archer just speeds up the tiniest bit and catches up.

"Just get in. I'll buy you lunch and we can talk it out at your dorm," he says. I look behind us and see that Archer is holding up traffic by driving next to me. Knowing that I have been mad at him for an unfair amount of time, I get into the car. Also, I haven't eaten since breakfast this morning, and I'm pretty hungry.

"I knew the promise of food would entice you. Fatass," he says as I slide my longboard into the backseat. "Hey, hey. Don't scratch the leather with that thing. It's Italian."

"Holy shit, you sound like Dad. Speaking of Italian, can we UberEats some Olive Garden? I'm feeling fancy today," I say, plugging my phone into the auxiliary cord and turning on some music.

"Sure," he says. He stops at a stop sign glances at me for a second. "I'll just say it. I . . . may have been a bit harsh the other day. And I didn't mean to embarrass you like I did."

"Archie, there's a two-word phrase that would make this conversation a whole lot easier. Starts with 'I'm' and ends with 'sorry'. You should really try it out," I say, ordering our food on my phone.

"It's not that easy, Scar," Archer deflects, pulling into the parking lot of my dorm.

I laugh. "Believe me, I know. I actually think the part of your brain responsible for forming those two words has been severely damaged. But until you get over yourself and admit that you were an asshole . . ." I trail my voice off, leaving him to wonder how much longer I could go ignoring him.

"I'm sorry," he finally says when he stops the car. "I shouldn't have been as harsh as I was when I kept you from going to the party."

"You shouldn't have kept me from going at all," I interrupt. "I get the whole 'protective big brother thing' and I appreciate it sometimes, but you have to let me make my own decisions sometimes. Honestly, how many parties did you go to last year?"

We walk through my dorm building and I unlock my door. I can tell Archer is thinking hard as we enter my room. "I went to . . . a lot of parties. And I understand I was piece of shit after the home-opener with all that double-standard shit, but I just want you to be safe."

I raise an eyebrow. "Safe? Am I in the Witness Protection Program?"

Archer groans. "Yes. You're under the Brother Protection Program. And that involves keeping you from making mistakes that I've made. I'm still figuring out how to deal with having you at the same college. Cut me some slack, Scar."

I sigh, sitting on my bed. "I understand that you want to protect me, and I love you for that. But how about you protect me as my brother? Not as my parent."

Archer is messing around at my desk, opening my drawers and playing with the things he finds. "Deal," he says, taking a pad of pink sticky notes and writing something on one of them. "Brother, not parent. Are we good now?"

"I suppose," I say, thinking. "It goes both ways, you know? As your sister, I'm obligated to look after you too. Tell you when I don't agree with something you're doing."

Archer laughs. "What is there to look after? I'm the golden child. Last I checked, my grades were better than yours."

"I'm not talking about grades or school," I say. "I'm talking about your love life. About Mya."

Archer looks up at me for a second, then puts on a quick smile. "That's not my love life. What about Mya?"

I lean forward to rest my chin in my hands. "I don't know. What about Mya?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing. We're just friends. We hang out sometimes, but it's definitely nothing serious."

"She doesn't seem to think so."

He sets down the pen and leans back in my desk chair. "Scar, it's really nothing. Before this conversation, I thought we both wanted to keep things casual. She's not the only girl I'm talking to, and I've told her that. Straight up. And she seemed fine with it. And I mean, we only hang out after midnig—"

I throw my pillow at him. "I don't need to know the nature of your get-togethers. Besides, it doesn't matter how obvious you think you've been. You should talk to her about what you want. She's hanging onto hope."

Archer leans his head back and rubs his face. "Fine, sure, I'll think about it."

When he raises his head to look at me, he has a smirk on his face. "So tell me about your love life. Any little freshmen boys chasing after you?"

The first name that comes to mind: Jack. I look at Archer's face, so trusting and expectant, and realize how fucked my situation is. He can't know that his best friend and sister are involved. "There isn't anyone. I'm too busy with school and dance."

"Do Mom and Dad buy that shit? Because I sure as hell don't."

I take a deep breath, and it comes out before I can stop it. "Well there is a guy. We haven't been . . . a thing for that long. Actually, I'm not sure if we even are a thing. But we've been talking for a while and he just recently told me how he feels about me. But there's something that's keeping us apart. It's out of our control."

Archer flings the pen at me with makeshift slingshot. "Well, do you like him?"

"Yes," I say. "But it's not that simple." I stop talking then, afraid to divulge too much in fear of Archer figuring out what I'm talking about."

Archer groans, spinning in my chair. "Why do girls make things unnecessarily complicated?" He says. "Like I said, it's simple. He made a move. That means he likes you. Who cares about what's keeping you apart?"

If only he knew what he was saying. "I just can't" is all I say.

"Scar, you asked for my advice and I gave it to you. How about you just see where your relationship goes before you start freaking out over this thing," he says. "It's probably not even that big of a deal. What? Does one of your friends like him too?"

When I don't answer, Archer picks up a pillow and chucks it at me, knocking me backward, then continues, "Sometimes, you gotta be selfish. There's a life lesson you should remember, Scar."

I'm about to respond, to ask him how to know when it's okay to be selfish, when my phone lights up. Our food is here. "I got it," Archer says, leaving my dorm to meet the UberEats guy at the dorm entrance.

When he gets back, he sets out the food and immediately starts digging in. Just after I begin eating my pasta, he starts laughing with a mouthful of bread. "What?" I ask, starting to laugh at the sight of him.

"I just . . . think it's funny," he says after finally swallowing the bite of bread. "You tell me about this boy that you're kind of seeing, and you think I can't figure out who you're talking about."

My blood runs cold and I put down my plastic fork. "Who—who do you think I'm talking about?'

He sets down his breadstick. "Come on, Scar. You're talking about that Levi kid. The one you were gonna meeting up with before the game." He sees the confusion on my face. "The one who left his jacket in your dorm. The one that's still here. Ring a bell?"

"Levi? What does he have to do—" Then I remember. I mentioned Levi's name when Jack and Archer stopped by before the home opener. Of course, Archer hasn't forgotten. "Levi is just a friend," I insist. "We were partners for my film class."

"Drop the act. You're crazy about him. Crazy enough to be telling me about him. Plus, you practically moaned the guy's name when you opened the door that one time."

"I did not," I say firmly. If anyone can get under my skin, it's him. "I mentioned him once and now you think I'm going to have his children. What's wrong with you?"

Archer shrugs, practically inhaling his pasta. I pick up my phone and see a text from Jack.

Meet me at mine
after your
classes tomorrow

I think about what Archer said and force myself to stop worrying about what's getting in the way of our relationship. I need to see Jack again, to figure out where we are.

the day
after tomorrow
1:25

It's when my class gets out on that day. And if my memory is correct, it's while Archer is in his first class of the day, so he won't be in his and Jack's dorm. Thank goodness for his terrible sleep schedule.

"Is that him?" Archer asks, moving toward me at lightning speed to look over my shoulder at my text. "1:25 am? You planning your next late night rendezvous? Disgusting."

Fortunately, I changed Jack's contact name to a poop emoji for this exact scenario. "Why is his contact name a poop emoji? Is that an inside joke between you and Levi? Is he into that kind of forepl—"

"Archie, lay off," I breathe.

He sits back down at my desk. "Do Mom and Dad know about Levi? Wait, don't tell me you've told Dani and you still haven't told me."

"No one knows because Levi and I aren't a thing," I insist. Archer just rolls his eyes and keeps eating. I take a big bite of my breadstick and chew slowly.

"Have you talked to Dani recently?" I ask. "Is she okay?"

"I talked to her and Mom and Dad two days ago. They seemed fine," Archer answers. "But I can't imagine that she'd tell me anything that she hasn't told you."

I sigh. "She doesn't tell me about her headaches. Or anything about her condition. She tells you."

He puts down his food. "She's fine. A smartass, as usual. I think she's trying to teach herself how to play Mahjong."

I laugh. "She'll probably learn in a day and be teaching us how to play during Thanksgiving."

I'm silent for a few seconds, and Archer watches me intently. "Dani's fine. Even if she wasn't, she wouldn't want you to worry about her. She wouldn't want you to blam—"

"I know," I say, trying to believe it for myself. "I'm trying not to."

Archie gets up and wraps his arms around me. Tightly. Wrapped in his bear hug, the smell of his cologne assaults my senses. "Lay off the cologne, dude. Flies are dropping all around you."

He laughs and flips my hair into my face.

"I gotta go to practice," he says, letting me go. "Speaking of, have you seen Jack with anyone recently? I saw him at a party with some mystery girl, but I can't get him to tell me about her."

I smile widely, hoping he's not paying close enough attention to notice the strain in my voice. "Nope. Haven't seen or talked to him. Are you sure it wasn't a blow-up sex doll?"

Archer laughs. "That's one explanation. Or he probably just had a one-night-stand with some random chick. Would've been his first one in a while. It's just weird that he's not talking to me about it," Archer says. "Anyway, where were you that night? I stopped by here before the party to see if you wanted to come, but you weren't here."

I didn't know that Archer had come by my dorm to try and make it up to me by bringing me to a party with him. And I was already at the party, making out with Jack.

Archer noticed my silence and grimaces. "Ah, you were with Levi, weren't you? God, I'm gonna start knocking before walking in here."

"You should knock before coming into my dorm whether or not I'm with someone," I say. Then I realize that I didn't refute what he said about me being with Levi.

But Archer's already standing up, moving on from that conversation. "Yeah, sure. Anyway, I gotta head out. Call me if you need anything, okay? Or if you need me to set Levi straight for you."

"Thanks for the offer, but I think I'm good."

"You'll change your mind eventually," he says. "Love you, Scar."

"Love you too," I say, watching him leave. I let out a breath when he's gone, wondering why the hell I told Archer that I was with someone. And how long it'll take him to figure out that Jack's mystery girl is me. And I wonder how hurt Archer will be once he realizes we've been lying straight to his face.

Then there's the semi-lie about being with Levi. Fuck.

Despite the hole I just realized I've dug myself into, I find myself wishing he could have stayed longer. We used to have these candid talks all the time before he moved off the college, and I'd really missed them.

I get off my bed and start collecting his trash from my desk. When I look up at my corkboard, I notice a Post-It note that wasn't there before. The one Archer was writing on while we were talking.

It's a drawing of our family — all five of us — as stick-figures. We're in descending order of height, with Dad as the tallest and Dani as the shortest. Even though Archer has been taller than Mom since eighth grade, he drew himself shorter than her and taller than me. He drew a basketball in his hand, a small calculator in Dani's, and a tutu on me. Mom and Dad are holding hands.

I smile, deciding to keep it up. A wave of homesickness washes over me for a second, but the lingering scent of Archer's cologne and the Post-It make me feel like a bit of home is right.

And that makes everything seem a bit less terrible.

♔

it's not hard to see where this poll is gonna go . . .

Jackie-poo!!

Baby Levi <3