own junk. There were, of course, the gay jokes, and Jeremy laughed cautiously, sometimes glancing at Levi to see if it was actually funny (it never was). Nope, Jeremy just kept his eyes down until he was dressed. When Big Frankie Pepitone got a tattoo on his shoulder, all the other guys admired it and made sure to give Frankie a slap on the newly inked and still angry-looking skin (because football players liked to hurt each other, after all), but Jeremy could barely drag his eyes up to the tatt. “Cool” was all he said, and Levi got the impression that maybe Jeremy was afraid of what his face would show if he did look at Big Frankie.
Whatever. Jeremy was a good guy, and Levi didn’t really care if Faith Holland was his beard or the love of his life. It was his senior year; he figured he’d be enlisting, so he was going to have all the fun he could. And being around Jeremy was fun. The guy was funny, smart, laid-back and decent as anything. Levi and Jess, Jeremy and Faith hung out sometimes, catching a movie or going to the Lyons’ house, because Faith had too many siblings, and why go to the trailer park when Jeremy’s house was a fricking playland? But Jess didn’t much like Faith (and did a deadly impression of her), so, often, it was just the three of them, Jeremy, Levi and Faith.
Faith Holland...she was a little hard to take, yeah. Kind of cutesy and bouncy and tiring. She was smitten with Jeremy and seemed to be auditioning for her role as his future wife, always fluttering her eyelashes and snuggling up close, and Jeremy didn’t seem to mind. She’d kiss up to Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, leaping to clear dishes and whatnot, and it was clear the Lyons thought she was wonderful.
“Thank God he finally found someone,” Levi overheard Mrs. Lyon say to her husband one night, just as he was about to thank them for having him over.
“About time,” Mr. Lyon answered. “I wasn’t sure it’d ever happen.” They gave each other a look, then went back to watching CNN.
So maybe Levi wasn’t the only one who thought Jeremy might play for the other team.
Senior year was the best year of Levi’s life. Football season ended with Jeremy sending a thirty-nine yard pass into the end zone that Levi could’ve caught just by flexing his fingers, so perfect was Jeremy’s aim. The Manningsport Mountain Lions were divisional champs, though they lost in the next round. Didn’t matter. They’d had their best season in the history of the school, so it was hard to feel bad.
And Levi, who had no brother and no father and no uncles, had his first true friend, different from Asswipe and Tommy and Big Frankie. Jeremy was more mature in a lot of ways, someone who seemed to feel as comfortable at Levi’s as he did in his parents’ glamorous house, who laughed easily and didn’t get wasted for fun, who never cared that kids from the Hill weren’t supposed to hang out with kids from the trailer park.
He tried a little too hard with Faith—once in a while, he’d kiss her, and it practically made Levi wince, it was so awful. Jeremy did these old-fashioned, corny-ass things that no straight guy would’ve ever dreamed of doing—putting a flower in her hair, shit like that. And Faith, God, she ate it up. She’d sit on his lap and suggest they all sign up to do a road cleanup, or maybe Levi and Jess would want to join the school chorus and go to the old folks’ home and sing. Levi would occasionally point out that there were drugs for her type of condition. Faith would laugh, a little uncertainly, and then he’d feel like he’d kicked a puppy, and Jeremy would say, “Dude, be nice. I love her,” and Faith’s tail would start wagging again.
One spring night, Faith left the boys at the Lyons’ place—Ted and Elaine were away, and Levi suspected she was uncomfortable with the fact that he and Jeremy had appropriated two beers from the downstairs fridge, and God help her if she condoned such illegality. Levi watched her go from where they sat on the deck, her pretty hair gleaming in the sun, the Hollands’ big dog running by her side. “You and Faith doing it?” he asked out of idle curiosity.
“No, no,” Jeremy said. “We’re...old-fashioned. You know. Might wait till we get married.”
Levi choked on his beer. “Oh,” he wheezed. Jeremy just shrugged, a smile still on his face at the thought of Princess Super-Cute.
Then, out of the blue, there came that week where Jeremy and Faith “took a break.” Shocked the whole school. Jeremy was uncharacteristically glum and didn’t want to talk about it. Finally, Levi imagined, Faith had snapped out of it and figured out that something was off where her boyfriend was concerned.
He had his own stuff to deal with—a Division III college in Pennsylvania suddenly offered him a decent scholarship (thanks to Jeremy making him look so good all season). Between their offer and what he had saved, all Levi needed was five grand, and they could make it work.
He didn’t ask his mom; five grand was still way too much. He could’ve asked Jeremy or the Lyons, and they would’ve fallen over themselves handing it to him, but it didn’t feel right. He didn’t want to owe anyone.
And so, he asked his father. Figured Rob Cooper might owe him, instead. Tracked him down and found that the guy lived two towns over. Levi hadn’t seen him in eleven years. Not one phone call, not one birthday card, but the guy lived twenty miles away in a nice ranch house painted dark blue, a new-model car in the driveway.
Rob Cooper might’ve been a deadbeat dad, but he recognized Levi right away. Shook his hand, clapped him on the shoulder and brought him into the garage.
“So, um, I’ll get right to it,” Levi said. “I need five grand to go to college. I have a football scholarship, but it’s only a partial.” He paused. “I was hoping you might be able to help.”
His father—shit, his father had the same green eyes that Levi had, same solid arms—his father nodded, and for one stupid second, Levi’s heart leaped.
“Yeah, I’d like to help you, man. How old are you now? Eighteen?”
“Nineteen. I stayed back in third grade.” The year you left.
“Right, right.” His father nodded again. “Well, the thing is, I just got married. Fresh start and all that.” He paused. “My wife’s at work. Otherwise, I’d introduce you.” No, he wouldn’t. “Wish I could help you, son. I just don’t have it.”
There were a lot of things Levi wanted to say. Things about back child support coming to a lot more than five grand. Things about how Rob Cooper had surrendered the right to call him son eleven years ago. About how he’d stayed back in third grade because he’d spent fucking hours after school every day, sitting on the stoop, waiting for that mustard-yellow El Camino to turn into West’s Trailer Park because Levi knew, he knew his father wouldn’t just go away forever.
But his mouth stayed shut, and shame burned in his stomach because he’d let himself hope.
“I played football, too, did you know that?” his father asked.
“No,” Levi said.
“Wide receiver.”
“Cool. Listen, I gotta go.”
“Sure. Sorry again, Levi.”
It was hearing his name said by that voice, a voice still so well remembered, that almost broke Levi. He walked down the driveway carefully, as if he’d forgotten how, and got into Asswipe’s battered truck. Didn’t look back at his father and drove straight to Geneva to enlist. He wouldn’t let his father take any more away than he already had. Got a little drunk with his old pals that night, had to have Jess put him to bed, but otherwise, no harm done.
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