Ten & Levan

12. Twelve

"It's beautiful Ten!" she exclaims. And then we buy it.

***

Toying with the new chain on my neck, I follow mom's sluggish pace as she strolls around the grocery store. I occasionally point at a fruit of my choice and start to hop and chant a chain of 'mom, mom, mom' until she agrees to buy it. I don't have to hop for too long though, she's all about the fruits.

I make faces at her when she's scrutinizing vegetables I don't like, for example, an artichoke. Who even likes artichoke? Oh wait, my mom does, she finds it the most interesting. But artichoke is so shitty it could be used as a swear word. Artichoke you! I swear in my head, and it sound like 'I'm out to choke you'. I keep wrinkling my nose and make sure to do it right in front of her face, until she eventually puts it down. We then we stand in the line to the billing counter. I've whistled a whole song until it's our turn. As I look around, I stop whistling abruptly.

"Mom, I'll see you right outside the door," I tell her, she nods weirdly at me and then I sprint in full speed to the exit of the mart.

My heart thuds inside my throat and my lungs contract and riot before I yell out, "Number Eleven!" I halt and put my hands on my knees as I take deep breaths. Oh lungs, don't fail me now. I look up and find him watching me with his usual frown, a small bag stuffed with groceries in hand. I look further up at the sky and thank Jesus silently.

"Are you okay?" he asks as he marches up the little distance to me. I nod as I straighten up.

"What a surprise!" I say, my most brilliant smile glued to my face. He struggles to smile and ends up looking traumatically awkward. Jeez.

"Are you stalking me?" he asks, hesitant and serious. I laugh inside my mouth as his pale eyes dance around. Levan, you're so completely, insanely, painfully awkward.

"No silly, I'm here with my mom," I tell him. His beaten up face smoothens and his shoulders relax. The bruises have only darkened slightly since last night. He can't hide them now, not anymore. His eyes fall to my neck, I become very aware how the moonstone takes after his eyes and my face starts feeling hot. I didn't do it on purpose, it's explainable.

"Oh," he whispers and looks up. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn to my mother bellowing out my name.

"That's my mom right there," I point my thumb back at her then lift my arm up so she can spot me. She drives the cart embarrassingly filled up to the brim toward us when she has successfully located me. I turn back to see that Levan has tensed up again, he's clutching tightly to his bag.

"Mom, let me introduce you to my friend," I say gesturing at purple, black, gray and blue Levan, "This is Levan Emery. And Levan, this is my mom." They shake each other's hands briefly. Levan tries to smile again and I almost laugh at him.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Cohen," he says. Mom smiles back, stars in her eyes, amusement splattered all over her face.

"Very nice to meet you too Levan," she says, giving me a sideways glance, "what happened to your face?" mom asks and yes, it sounds invasive. I groan.

"She's a lawyer, by the way," I explain to Levan, "his sister beat him up because he makes crappy food." I tell mom, my eyes glaring holes into Levan's. He swallows, takes a deep breath and looks away.

"How old is she?"

"She's twelve," Levan replies meekly.

"Well, I really hope you get better at cooking because you have such a good looking face," says mom. I pull my upper lip under my teeth. That's my blurter mother right there. Heather, keep the drool in your mouth.

"Oh...thanks?" Levan clears his throat; his cheeks turn red and a slight smile plays on his lips. Then all three of us stand there awkwardly passing time, my mother's gaze shuttling between him and I. Oh, this needs to end. I clear my throat rather dramatically.

"I think Levan needs to get going or he'll be receiving more violence," I suggest. Run along now, awkward Levan.

"Yeah," he nods with a forced smile.

"See you tomorrow, Number Eleven," I say as he turns around and walks away.

"The boy is extremely hot..." mom whispers to me as we walk to the car.

"Hold your horses, Heather Cohen, are you a pedophile?" I joke as we stuff the groceries in the back seat. She laughs her usual throaty laugh.

"Maybe, who knows?" she jokes too, "Is he the guy you went out with?" she says, shuffling into the driver's seat. I settle down in my seat and belt myself as I nod. "I knew it!" she cheers.

Last summer I said hi to Jayce casually as we walked down the road. Six months ago, Colton came to our house to ask for my notes. Two weeks ago, Tyler smiled at me as he passed me by on the street. And on all of those random occasions including humans of the other gender, my mother totally lost her wits. She was one moment away from parading around me in a cheer costume.

Sometimes, I'm confused if I have a mother or a personal cheerleader. I roll my eyes as we pull onto the road. She starts to sing along a song very animatedly, that has key words such as crush, hot, boy, heart and whatnot. I can't help but sing along with her even though I can't help laughing at her. Oh Heather, your name rhymes with cheerleader as well as mother.