I Will Save You by Matt de la Pena Page A

that question again, you have to tell her, yes, sometimes a good thing can come out of a bad thing and how you should know.

What I Miss About Being Free
How I’d wake up on the beach sometimes, in the middle of the night, after sleepwalking. It always took me a while to think of who I was. And where I was. Not in Horizons or Fallbrook or my mom’s apartment. But on the sand at the beach. I worked for Mr. Red. Then I’d smile, thinking how I could go anywhere or do anything and I was actually happy.
What the train sounds like when you see it coming from far away. The whistle sounding. The vibration of the tracks under your feet. The power it had going past, like a million car engines combined, the wind pressing your face and the roar and me thinking who was in there and if they were going where their family was.
Olivia telling me about the books she’s read. Me listening and nodding but really just watching her. Getting excited ’cause she was.
Peanut waiting for me to wake up every morning, and waiting for me to get home from work, so I could put food in his bowl, and water, and pet him while I said whatever I was thinking. Peanut, who looked at me with his crooked face and messed-up teeth, and how once I’d known him long enough everything started seeming straight.
Mr. Red teaching me everything he knows about plumbing and landscaping and life. Girls. How he cared if I had friends and if I was okay. Mr. Red, who was always laughing and smiling and talking, but then sometimes he’d stare at the ground for a full minute, not moving, and I could tell in his eyes how sad he was and only now do I know why.
Olivia smiling at me when we’d pass at the campsites and she was with her friends. And how it felt like we had a secret.
The sound of waves breaking when you fall asleep in your tent. And birds in the morning. And people talking when they walk by on their way to get a coffee and paper. All of it blending into the sound of being free.
The hole at the top of my tent in the morning when I opened my eyes. How at a certain time of the day the sun went right inside it and the whole inside of my tent lit up and it felt like somebody was giving me special powers.
Going in the ocean every Sunday morning by myself, down from the campsites so nobody knows me. Coming out and laying on my towel. Letting the sun dry the ocean water off my skin. How it was cold at first, then tingled into warm. My face going into a smile ’cause of how good it felt. Then drifting into sleep.
Olivia touching her ski cap and sometimes turning to me, her eyes going on mine, and how my stomach feels like it’s floating, like I don’t weigh anything, and how I pretend like I’m not smiling and nothing’s really happening, but really everything is.

 
    “Here’s another thing about girls,” Devon said as we walked back from the beach. “I don’t like regular skinny ones, either. Yeah, they’re all right to look at, and people give you props when they see you with one at the movies. But soon as you start hooking up, Special, trust me, it feels wrong.”
    I nodded, trying to think how skinny Olivia was.
    “A dude’s not supposed to graze bones when he’s feeling on his girl. Or two little mosquito bites hiding inside a Victoria’s Secret training bra. I like a girl who you can tell is a girl.”
    I shrugged as we went around the end of the campsites and up the side of the 101. It was late and the lifeguard tower was closed. The sun had just dropped under the ocean. I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast ’cause Devon made us stay on the beach the entire day so we could see every single girl that came and went to make it a complete study. If we left early he said we might miss the finest one of the day. So we sat there shirtless on our towels, the sun stuck on our skin, talking about every girl, arguing over ratings, pointing out features.
    Whenever it got too hot we’d run down into the water and splash through the whitewash and duck