Life on the Level by Zoraida Cordova Read Free Book Online

not the type to spill my life story to a circle of former addicts with more issues than I’ll ever have.
    “You’ve known me for less than twenty-four hours,” I say. “How would you know what type I am?”
    Maddie opens her mouth to snap back, but Hutch stands.
    “That’s right, River. We don’t know you. How many of you walked in here and considered walking right back out because you didn’t think this was the right place for you? Raise your hands.”
    Maddie raises her hand. Five more hands go up. Not Debbie’s. I raise my hand.
    “You don’t think you belong here?” Hutch asks me. He looks me dead in the eye, and suddenly I want to run faster and further than I ever have before.
    “I’ve been thinking about it, and I still don’t know.” And that’s the most honest I can be with myself right now.
    “Let me ask all of you,” Hutch says, calmly walking a few paces around the circle. “What made you decide to stay here?”
    Everyone fidgets. Maddie gives me a dirty look, then examines the dirt under her nails as if it’s more interesting than anything Hutch has to say.
    “Pete,” Hutch says, pointing at the young guy.
    Pete sits with his shoulders back. He’s got incredible posture. He’s also the only one of us wearing clothes that couldn’t pass for pajamas.
    “The first time I came here was after the accident that took my best friend’s leg.” For all of their bickering and snide comments, everyone perks up to listen. They nod their heads sympathetically, and wait for his words.
    “I was court mandated to serve twenty-eight days of rehab, and I did it. I didn’t touch a drop of alcohol. I even stopped baking so I wouldn’t have access to vanilla extract.” He looks down at his hands, crossing them on his lap. “Afterward, I went back to church, even though everyone would be talking about the terrible thing I’d done. My family assured me that I was part of a community. I took it one day at a time. I even let myself attend Henry’s twenty-seventh birthday party. I was fine, until I wasn’t.
    “Everywhere I went I could hear people whispering about me. How dare I show my face? Henry would never play football because of me. Henry would never have the same life because of me. I was damned to go to Hell. I was the worst kind of person. After a while they stopped whispering and just said the words to my face.
    “The morning after I woke up on Henry’s parents’ front lawn, I couldn’t remember how I got there or even where I got my first drink. I just remember this crowd of people standing around me and pointing.” Pete stops talking for few moments. He starts to twist his fingers in his own hands. “I was covered in my own filth. I—I—I knew I wasn’t strong enough. So I found a new place. I came here. I thought about turning back. I thought about moving away, finding a fresh start. But then, what if I did the same thing in a new town? What was to stop me from ruining someone else’s life? What was to stop me from falling all over again?”
    “So the thing that makes you stay is fear of repeating your past mistakes?” Hutch asks.
    “The thing that makes me stay is knowing I’ll repeat my past mistakes. I think that’s God’s plan for me.”
    “You don’t know that,” I tell him. “I mean, I’d like to think that we have control over our choices.”
    “If you believed that,” he tells me, “then you wouldn’t be in this circle.”
    That’s a kick to the gut. How many times have I lost control? Sometimes I’d wake up and with no memory of what I’d done. Even if I was with friends, I’d take one look at their faces, and swallow the regret on my tongue. Sometimes I’d be alone and naked, my floor covered in poker chips and wads of cash, the pain in my skull drowning out the ache in my heart. How many times have I told myself it’s the last time?
    “Come on, guys,” Hutch says. “Don’t leave me standing here talking to myself. I can do that on my own