Chapter 3

I straightened up and set my shoes in the cabinet. That's when I saw the two paper bags sitting on top of it.

The logos were familiar, the two cheapest items from the whole pile Gary had shown me that afternoon. Already bought.

"Good intentions? He was scrolling through gift guides on company time. Are you not paying him a salary?"

Kimberly frowned.

I walked into the living room. "And besides, why is someone else picking the gift for my parents?"

She went quiet for a few seconds before answering. "I just think Gary's thoughtful. He understands what older people like.

"Last month I asked you what to get your parents as a meeting gift, and you said anything was fine. Your number was only thirty-four when you said that.

"Levi, Gary's number hit seventy just from asking me to grab him a coffee. You clearly never actually cared about the gift for your parents. Isn't it a little ridiculous to make an issue of it now?"

I looked at her face. The living room light caught her from the side, her jaw drawn tight. Her gaze wasn't on me. It had drifted up, hovering somewhere above my head.

Numbers. Always the numbers.

I honestly didn't recognize her anymore. Where had that girl gone, the one who used to be proud of me for everything I did?

My hands curled into fists.

She used to know exactly why that number was thirty-four. My biological father drank, and when he drank, he hit people. He'd split my mother's lip once, and it took half a month to heal, and after that I learned to read a room before I ever opened my mouth.

My stepfather, whom she married after that, was a decent man, quiet, never raised his voice. But I still could never bring myself to ask him for anything.

Back in high school, I'd gone to study in another state, and I never let myself spend money I didn't have to. I remember sitting on the bleachers once, eating a piece of bread, when I overheard some people talking.

"Who's he even putting that act on for? Someone tried to help him carry his textbooks and he just said he didn't need the help and took off, like he was owed something."

"That's just him being stuck up. Thinks he's better than everyone, and this is the thanks you get for being nice."

"You don't know? His dad's a drunk, beats people. His mom divorced him and remarried."

"No wonder he's so weird."

"Always off on his own, doesn't have a single friend. Who'd even like someone like that?"

They never said a name, but it had to be me.

Then Kimberly's voice had cut through the crowd. "But he's first in the whole class every single time. He's made it this far on his own, and you don't think that's impressive? I actually admire him. Could any of you have done the same?"

Later, once we were together, she'd learned all of this from me, and she'd held me and looked me in the eye. "You only learned to grow up so fast because things were so hard on you before.

"Levi, the way you carried yourself alone, that made me proud of you. I want to be good to you, so do whatever you want. You don't owe me an explanation." She'd paused, then added five more words. "I'll support you from now on."

I'd held onto that for years.

I wasn't the boy I used to be anymore. But depending on someone was still hard for me. Kimberly was the only person I'd ever let myself reach for.

And she'd forgotten all of it. All it took was a System and a pile of numbers, six months, and it was gone.

I looked away, didn't bother explaining, and turned toward the bedroom.

As I passed the couch, Kimberly grabbed my wrist. Her grip was strong, but her fingertips trembled.

"Levi, why has your number dropped so much?"

She stared at me, something close to panic in her eyes.

I paused. "Dropped to what?"

Her mouth opened and closed, her voice catching in her throat before it finally came out. "...Fifteen."

"There's still fifteen, huh..."

I glanced down at my wrist in her grip and didn't move. "Fifteen or thirty, does it make any difference to you?"

She went quiet. The silence stretched taut, like a thread pulled to its breaking point.

Then she laughed coldly. "No, it really doesn't. Didn't you tell me yesterday to turn your number off? Fine, I'll turn it off.

"Your number was never worth looking at anyway. All it does is put me in a bad mood. From now on, don't even bother telling me what you need."

When she finished, her eyes stayed fixed on me without blinking, like she was searching for some kind of opening.

"Fine," I said.

Her grip on my wrist tightened further, the veins standing out at the base of her thumb.

I frowned. "Are you done? If you're done, can you let go of my wrist?"

She said nothing.

"Let go."

She looked at me, and I met her eyes. After a long moment, she let go.

I turned to walk away.

"Do you still want me to come home with you for the holidays?" Her voice rose sharply.

I stopped, my back to her.

"I only turned down a project to go in the first place. If this is the attitude you're going to have, I'm not going with you for the holidays anymore."

She paused, like she was waiting for something.