Read Online Somewhere In-Between by Donna Milner - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Donna Milner
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he climbed out of his car. He took a few tentative steps, froze, and then bolted past the vehicle wrapped around the lamppost on the side of the highway. He pushed his way between the officers and dropped onto the ground beside Levi, who was hunched over, shoulders heaving as he held me in his arms. But how could that be? How could I be there, and hereâwherever here wasâwatching?
Both Dad and I looked down at the same motionless face. In the same breath of time, we took in the smudged greasepaint that the cold cream had missed at the temples, the diamond-shaped glass shards imbedded in the bloodied forehead, and in the limp hand lying on the ground, crushed yellow rose petals spilling out of the open palm. In the same instant we both knew. Dad shoved Levi aside and pulled me into his arms. I could hear him moaning my name over and over again, but I heard it from another place.
For Dad the pain was so unbearable that a part of him shut down right then. To protect himself, I guess. Probably a good thing because what he really wanted to do was smash somebodyâs face in, and the closest living person to him was Levi, and a couple of police officers. I sure didnât want to see him hit Levi. And punching out a cop, not so good.
For me the realization was simply a surprise, like, Oh, okay. So this is how it happens. There was no pain. And no feeling of sadness, no fear. Just curiosity. Like, where am I, and how did I get here?
The last thing I remembered was Levi cursing, and then white light. Yeah, white light. Just like all those creepy movies.
In that absence-of-sound-and-colour place, I relived the past. To say my whole life flashed before me would be wrong, because it was like, just that evening, which seemed to play out in real time, starting with Levi driving us to the high school earlier to put on our make-up and costumes before the play. Wedged together on the front seat of his rusted old blue Chevy Malibu, Kajul and I had hammed up our characters. Levi, as always, concentrated on the road, ignoring our giggling and ad libbing.
Every now and then I would check out his profile from the corner of my eye. I was still certain that, with his dark handsome face, he would have made a better Danny than Wade Morrey. I had even tried to talk him into auditioning for it. There hadnât been any real hope behind my prodding, but hey, ya never know. Still, Levi acting? Pretending to be anything other than who he was? Not a chance. Anyway, hockey was more important, and I knew that. He was good, really good, at it.
Grease
turned out to be totally sick. It made no difference how many times we had rehearsed the play, or even the final dress rehearsal, the real thing just blew me away. When I was up on that stage in front of an actual live audience, I suddenly realized that I could do this. I was good at it. Maybe I had found something that I could practise and learn to love as much as Levi loved his hockey. Hey, I even thought that maybe I would become an actress, a singer. Why not? Mom and Dad had always drilled into me that everything was possible, that I could do, become, anything if I wanted it badly enough.
At the party everyone was still on a natural high from the first performance, rehashing the mistakes, the improvising, and breaking into our favourite
Grease
songs every now and then. I still had on my Rizzo costume, wanting to hang onto the character for as long as I could. With the yellow rose from Mom pinned behind my ear, I knew that I probably looked dorky, but I didnât care.
Someone had brought beer. I popped one open and offered it to Levi, who looked from the can to me, his face remaining passive as he silently turned it down. I took a sip, just to look cool. It wasnât real drinking. Just a beer. I had Momâs permission to be here, so what she didnât know wouldnât hurt her. Right? How wrong that turned out to be.
Some of the guys from the play said, âHey,
Both Dad and I looked down at the same motionless face. In the same breath of time, we took in the smudged greasepaint that the cold cream had missed at the temples, the diamond-shaped glass shards imbedded in the bloodied forehead, and in the limp hand lying on the ground, crushed yellow rose petals spilling out of the open palm. In the same instant we both knew. Dad shoved Levi aside and pulled me into his arms. I could hear him moaning my name over and over again, but I heard it from another place.
For Dad the pain was so unbearable that a part of him shut down right then. To protect himself, I guess. Probably a good thing because what he really wanted to do was smash somebodyâs face in, and the closest living person to him was Levi, and a couple of police officers. I sure didnât want to see him hit Levi. And punching out a cop, not so good.
For me the realization was simply a surprise, like, Oh, okay. So this is how it happens. There was no pain. And no feeling of sadness, no fear. Just curiosity. Like, where am I, and how did I get here?
The last thing I remembered was Levi cursing, and then white light. Yeah, white light. Just like all those creepy movies.
In that absence-of-sound-and-colour place, I relived the past. To say my whole life flashed before me would be wrong, because it was like, just that evening, which seemed to play out in real time, starting with Levi driving us to the high school earlier to put on our make-up and costumes before the play. Wedged together on the front seat of his rusted old blue Chevy Malibu, Kajul and I had hammed up our characters. Levi, as always, concentrated on the road, ignoring our giggling and ad libbing.
Every now and then I would check out his profile from the corner of my eye. I was still certain that, with his dark handsome face, he would have made a better Danny than Wade Morrey. I had even tried to talk him into auditioning for it. There hadnât been any real hope behind my prodding, but hey, ya never know. Still, Levi acting? Pretending to be anything other than who he was? Not a chance. Anyway, hockey was more important, and I knew that. He was good, really good, at it.
Grease
turned out to be totally sick. It made no difference how many times we had rehearsed the play, or even the final dress rehearsal, the real thing just blew me away. When I was up on that stage in front of an actual live audience, I suddenly realized that I could do this. I was good at it. Maybe I had found something that I could practise and learn to love as much as Levi loved his hockey. Hey, I even thought that maybe I would become an actress, a singer. Why not? Mom and Dad had always drilled into me that everything was possible, that I could do, become, anything if I wanted it badly enough.
At the party everyone was still on a natural high from the first performance, rehashing the mistakes, the improvising, and breaking into our favourite
Grease
songs every now and then. I still had on my Rizzo costume, wanting to hang onto the character for as long as I could. With the yellow rose from Mom pinned behind my ear, I knew that I probably looked dorky, but I didnât care.
Someone had brought beer. I popped one open and offered it to Levi, who looked from the can to me, his face remaining passive as he silently turned it down. I took a sip, just to look cool. It wasnât real drinking. Just a beer. I had Momâs permission to be here, so what she didnât know wouldnât hurt her. Right? How wrong that turned out to be.
Some of the guys from the play said, âHey,
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