CHAPTER 4

Levi's POV

It went on like that until Friday, me training her for three hours before taking her out to lunch and bringing her back to the shelter. She was a fast learner, quickly picking up the appropriate footwork and integrating it into her own martial arts style. Whenever we boxed it always came close, and I won only about fifty percent of the time.

Our lunch outings were my favorite part of it all; I got to learn more about her, and the more I learned the more I liked. I learned that she was enamored by anything Harry Potter or Studio Ghibli, that she not only played the piano but the guitar and the violin as well, that she was fascinated by abnormal psychology, among other things. In turn I told her about Sawney and his obesity, about Hanji and her insane love for her little mechanical contraptions, and about my gross inability to play anything other than the piano. She promised to show me something on the guitar if she made the boxing team. I assured her that she would make the team.

I had given her the weekends off, so I didn't have to wake up at seven that Saturday. I slept in for a glorious three hours, waking up at ten instead. Once I was out of bed I slid on my slippers and trudged groggily into the kitchen to pour myself a bowl of cereal.

"Hey, Shorty," greeted Hanji. I found her standing in front of the sink washing out her own cereal bowl.

"Hey, Shitty Glasses," I said.

"What are you doing today?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, opening one of the cabinets and taking down a bowl. I closed the cabinet door and almost tripped when Sawney weaved between my legs. "Maybe I'll set my cat on fire."

"Sounds like a plan."

Sawney meowed in distress and Hanji laughed at him, flicking her wet fingers and sending little projectiles of water at him. He hissed and backed into the kitchen island.

I shuffled over to the pantry and brought out the box of Cheerios only to find that it was empty.

"What have I told you about putting empty boxes back in the pantry?" I asked Hanji.

"To not to."

"And what did you do?"

"Put an empty box back in the pantry."

"Are you going to do it again?"

"Probably."

I shrugged and took the bag out of the cereal box and stuffed it in the garbage before stacking the box on the top of the pile we had under the breakfast bar. Apparently cereal box cardboard was very useful for various mechanical things in Hanji's studio, so we kept all the empty boxes for her.

I got another box of cereal out – Special K this time – and poured a bowl, then got out the milk and topped it off. I put both the carton of milk and the cereal box back in their places before digging out a spoon from our jumbled cutlery drawer and placing it in the bowl.

"How has training with Reaper been going?" asked Hanji, turning to face me and then hopping up to sit on the kitchen counter.

"You better wipe that area down once you're done sitting on it," I said, eying the place where her ass rested.

"Yeah, yeah. How has training with Reaper been going?" she repeated excitedly. I rolled my eyes at her.

"Really well, actually. She's really good."

"When you say 'really good' do you mean really good for a beginner or just really good?"

"Really good."

"Wow."

"She did try to kick me though. That only happened once."

"I trust you explained the rules to her, then."

I nodded and took a bite of my cereal. It was already soggy.

"Apparently she's been taking tae kwon do for almost nine years," I said. "That's probably why she took to boxing so quickly. Makes me wonder what she'd be capable of if she was allowed to kick."

"Does Maria have a kickboxing team?"

"No. It should, but if we get any more funding it should go to the arts department, not a kickboxing team."

"The director of athletics saying that the arts department needs funding?"

"It's not my fault I hate my job."

Hanji shrugged and swung her feet, her heels lightly hitting the lower cabinets as she did so. I took another bite of cereal and swallowed, and then another, and then another.

"Do you want to get Hunan later today?" asked Hanji. I shook my head.

"Reaper and I got that on Monday."

"Reaper and you?"

"I get her food after training every day, so sue me."

"Hey, I'm not saying anything against it. If you want to get her food then get her food. What do you two talk about?"

"What normal people talk about. Books. Movies. I've asked her about what she wants to do after high school and she asked me about college. Apparently she's a writer, too."

"Too?"

"I wanted to be a sports writer," I explained. "Then I got stuck with this shit job."

Hanji hummed and took a sip from a mug I hadn't noticed. I hoped it was coffee and not another one of her energy-boosting concoctions that looked like something out of Ghostbusters.

"She writes short stories. And a novel, apparently. She wants to be a writer and live as a hermit by the ocean," I continued. Hanji hummed again and took another sip out of her mug. "Please tell me that's coffee."

"It's coffee with cinnamon, nutmeg, and ground cloves."

"Learned your lesson from using whole cloves, I see."

"You have no idea," she said, cringing. I took another bite of cereal to keep myself from laughing at her. "So, you still haven't told me what you're doing today."

"Other than setting Sawney on fire," I said, sparing a pointed glance downward at the cat who was still backed against the island, "I'll probably read. Maybe take a walk."

"You should take Sawney for a walk."

"The fucker would be up a tree in a second," I said.

"Or down a storm drain."

"And it wouldn't be too much of a loss, either."

The cat in question farted in defiance before smelling it and scampering away. Hanji and I smelled it several seconds later and did some scampering of our own, moving ourselves into the dining room instead.

Once we finished talking I put my bowl and spoon in the sink and went to change into actual clothes. I dumped my pajamas in the laundry hamper and put on a t-shirt and jeans, coming back out into the living room to grab my car keys.

"Where are you going?" asked Hanji from the couch. She had picked up Lolita and was reading it from the beginning. I prayed to a god I didn't believe in that she hadn't removed my bookmark. "This is messed up shit. How do you read this? It's like kiddie porn."

"It has an unreliable narrator and, contrary to popular belief, supports the age law," I said, lying about why I liked the book. I actually liked it because it curbed my desires for Reaper, though not as much as it used to now that I was actually getting to know her. "And I'm going down to the beach."

"Don't forget the cat leash," she joked.

"I won't. See you later, Shitty Glasses."

"Bye, Shorty."

I left the house and locked the door before getting in the Shitpipe and driving away, heading out to the beach. I passed several grocers and drugstores, the place where the watermelon vendor was normally set up, a homeless man with a regrettably empty cup of change, and an empty Sina Academy. I eventually was able to see the ocean and the brightly colored beach houses which surrounded it as I drove down the highway, so I took the next exit and drive down several residential streets until I found a place to park. I parked the Shitpipe and then exited the vehicle, grabbing my sunglasses from the console and sliding them over my ears.

The day was beautiful, with crystal blue skies stretching forever and a navy blue ocean with so few waves I thought it might be glass. As I walked down the coarse sand beach I was surprised to find that not many people were there with their annoying little children, but I couldn't complain. The beach was empty and I was content.

At least I thought the beach was empty. As I came closer to the end of the sand I found that I was approaching a small black blob, and the closer I came to it the more the blob resembled a person. Once I was about ten feet away from whoever it was I noticed that it was Reaper, her hair pulled back in a messy bun and her eyes squinting out at the ocean. I went and sat down beside her.

"Hey," I said. She was startled but managed to calm herself down, blinking several times and letting out a long puff of air.

"Hey, Coach," she said. I hated the way "coach" sounded in her voice.

"Hm. Just call me Levi," I said as casually as I could, looking back out at the ocean.

"Okay."

"What brings you out here on such a nice day?" I asked.

"Well, number one, it's a nice day," she deadpanned. "Number two, I come here a lot. I just like to look at the ocean."

"I thought you hated the water."

"I do."

When she didn't elaborate I spoke again.

"If you hate the water then why do you care about looking at the ocean?"

"If you're here to interrogate me then I'll just leave."

"Never mind, then."

"It's fine," she said with a sigh, running one hand over her hair. "It's just… kind of complicated."

"I wouldn't believe you if you told me," I said, recalling our conversation at Hunan on Monday.

"Something like that."

After several minutes of silence she spoke again.

"So what brings you out here on such a nice day?" she asked mockingly. I bumped my shoulder into hers and she nudged back.

"I wanted to get out of the house. I'm tired of sitting in my living room reading Lolita all the time."

"Why do you keep reading Lolita?" she asked.

Because I'm lusting over you and trying to remind myself just how bad of an idea that is.

Instead of saying what I was thinking I told her what I had told Hanji, about the unreliable narrator and enforcement of the age law. She shrugged and stretched her arms over her head.

"So is this all you're doing today?" she asked.

"Not sure," I answered, looking out at the ocean. "Maybe. I'll probably go home and read some more. Maybe write. What about you?"

"This is probably all I'm going to do today."

"Why?"

She shrugged again.

"I just like looking at the ocean. Makes me wonder what it would be like to live in it."

"Would you live in it if you could?"

She sighed.

"I don't know," she said. "I don't know if I want to give up on writing just yet."

"You talk about it like living underwater is a possibility."

"There are submarines. I could join the navy and then mutiny."

"Do you think about this a lot?"

"More than I'd care to admit, yeah."

I left it at that, instead continuing to sit and stare at the ocean in silence and enjoy Reaper's presence.

We eventually resumed conversation, talking more about books and movies and culture until the sun was setting in the west. The orange glinted off the water and got in our eyes, but neither of us bothered to shield our eyes from the glare.

"I should probably get going," she said. "They're not all that happy with me being out here by myself as it is."

"The people at your shelter?"

She nodded and pushed herself up to standing, then offered me a hand. I took it and hoisted myself up, not really surprised that she didn't budge when I pulled down. We both brushed sand from ourselves.

"I'm up there," she said, thrusting a thumb behind her to indicate the bike lying on its side on a sand dune. A pair of sneakers was visible in its basket. "I'll see you on Monday."

"Hold up," I said, grabbing her wrist as she turned away. She immediately, probably automatically, circled her arm and yanked herself free. When she realized what she'd done she looked down at her feet.

"Sorry," she apologized as she tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. "Habit."

"It's fine," I said, not pushing the subject by asking why it was a habit, even though I was infinitely curious. "I was just going to offer you a ride back."

"Do you think my bike can fit in your trunk?" she asked.

"Only one way to find out."

She nodded her head again and went to get her bike. I followed her up the dune and walked her down to my car while she held her bike by its handles. She kept the bike between us and her eyes trained straight ahead.

When we made it to my car we found that, yes, her bike did fit in the Shitpipe's trunk. We closed the trunk together and got into the car, then buckled our seatbelts. I turned on the ignition and shifted the Shitpipe into drive, driving away. As we drove away I noticed Reaper leaning her head against the passenger's side window and staring out at the sea. I wondered why she was so enamored by the ocean, but I also figured that I would never find out.

The drive passed in silence as we passed the same Sina Academy, the same place where the homeless man usually sat, the same side-of-the-road watermelon vendor, the same drugstores and grocers. Reaper pulled out her phone and her earbuds, sticking the headphones into her ears and tapping her phone's screen several times. The locked her phone and leaned her head against the window again.

Once we arrived at Promise House she took one of her earbuds out and got out of the Shitpipe before I could park it. I pulled down on the gear shift until it was in park before getting out of the Shitpipe myself, going around to the back to open the trunk for her. She had already gotten it open and was carefully lifting her bike out of the car.

"It took me two weeks to learn how to open the trunk of this damn thing," I said.

"I guess I'm just smarter than you," she responded, not looking at me. I was glad she wasn't, because she might have seen the little smile that threatened to crack on my face.

I closed the trunk for her and watched as she secured the bike to the bike rack beside the stairs. She came back to the Shitpipe to say goodbye.

"Thanks for today, Levi," she said. My name on her tongue sent shivers down my spine and I hated it. I was going to have to reread Lolita several times after I finished it. "And thanks for the ride."

"Don't mention it," I said. "Have a good one."

"You, too."

I turned around and got back into the Shitpipe, watching as she climbed the stairs to Promise House two at a time. It hurt to drive away.