Ten & Levan

28. Twenty Eight

LEVAN

"Ugh, do you even believe it?" I look to my right to find Ten settling into the seat she seemingly owns now. She looks pissed, that's new.

"Believe what?" I ask her as she melts into her seat and looks up at the ceiling. I frown at her, quietly stuffing a couple of pages into my bag. Somehow, I can't let her read them yet, even though she insists all the time.

"That it's Monday already?" she says, groaning. I'm pretty sure that's how dinosaurs would groan if they knew how to.

"Oh, I do," I tell her.

Yes, it definitely feels like Monday. But even though it's almost been a week since I told Ten my book worthy secrets in an unknown alternate universe, it feels like it was minutes ago. It's not as if she looks at me different now. It's only me, because she looks at me the same.

Or maybe behind her eyes and all those layers and layers of disguise, she does see me different. Who knows if she even pities me? Poor Levan who lost his mom when he was just a little boy, poor Levan whose father gives him bruises and scars. Poor Levan, poor, poor Levan.

She snickers, but I'm not sure if she just heard my thoughts. Did I say them out loud? "You're funny," She tells me, arching a brow as she bends down to her bag and takes a notebook out.

I frown at her because I'm anything but funnie. I don't even know how to spell the word correctly. It's alien to me, I don't know it at all. That's something the whole universe knows but somehow, Ten doesn't. Or was that a joke?

She's noisily flipping through her notebook, she flips and flips and flips. She flips straight to the very back and then starts to scribble on it like a wild child. I observe her as she writes random things down. She bites her upper lip, she leans over the notebook so much that she's almost sleeping on it. I lean along with her, sneakily trying to read, it's her ritual to zone out and write down random things.

I manage to read something that looks like the words 'fly a plane'. I assume it's where she writes potential adventures for herself. And since I've just read one, her potential adventures freak me out.

"Are those new plans?" I ask her anyway. She narrows her eyes at me, amused, and giggles a very evil giggle that only she can pull off.

"Yes, some awesome new plans," she tells me, tipping her chin up with pride and mischief. Then she gets back to scribbling with devotion. There's so much I want to do, but I don't. And Ten, there's so much she does and yet she has more to do. So much more that she has pages and pages filled with things I can't even imagine.

Three days ago, we continued my swimming lessons and I've been swimming better than a ten year old. Yes, that's what she told me. The day before yesterday, we explored the land behind school, the neglected part of it, and found a bunch of trees that never let their crowns touch. Ten told me it's called crown shyness, and it's a natural phenomenon. Just yesterday, she snuck to practice for the musical after she dropped me off. Ten has so much fun and thrill in her life that she might just be made of it.

Now that I think about it, Ten is made of thrill, I'm sure.

I want to ask her what she's going to do today, but I'm too afraid that she'll ask me to join her too, like she always does, and I always end up saying the complete opposite of what I need to. And even though I try to suppress him, Resistant Levan rules most of me, crushing him feels close to dying, and running wild with Ten is life.

I'm not sure which one I want yet.

"WAKE UP, NUMBER ELEVEN! I HOPE YOU'RE ALIVE!" Ten yells in my ear. I jerk back into the class. Everyone's looking at Ten, even the Teacher who seemingly just stepped in. She's looking at Ten weird, with raised brows.