The Boy Behind the Window

Everyday I walk pass this house, a house on the corner of my street.

Everyday I look up at the highest window.

Everyday, I see this boy.

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My name is Sam Klein and  I live on Salt Drive, a street with only 6 houses. Mine is the very last house, farthest from the main road where my bus picks me up for school.

I have lived on this street for 7 years, and the day I moved here something never changed. At the end of the street, where my bus stop is, there is a big, old house. I never see any kids go in, or out of the house, but I know a boy my age lives there.

Every Monday, Wednesday and Sunday I would see an old  woman pull out of the run down garage in her giant boat of a car, and be gone for hours. I think she goes to church or something, because she wears the same clothes as my Grandma when she goes to church.

I hear a lot of the neighbors talk about the old woman, I know her name is Mrs. Moore, but no one seemed to know about the boy, or who he was. I was beginning to think I was the only one who saw him, or knew he even existed.  Was he a kidnapped kid that you see on the milk cartons? Or a late in life child that old Mrs. Moore didn't have the energy for?

I didn't know.. What I did know, was that today I turned 15, and here I was sitting at my bus stop, having my usual starring contest with the boy behind the window.

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I was sitting in class, still thinking about the boy, did he have birthdays?

How old was he?

Why did he always look so sad?

Was he lonely?

I had all these different questions running through my head that I didn't even notice my teacher calling my name to answer his question. "Ms. Klein!" He said even louder next to my desk this time, causing my to almost have a heart attack. "Would you like to tell us what you're day dreaming about?"

You see, It's my first year in high school, also my first day. I know, how lucky am I to have my birthday on the same day the school year starts? Yeah, I'm just that lucky...not.

"Oh, nothing Mr. Ward." I said in the most innocent voice I could muster. He just glared at me before walking back to the front of the room. Mr. Ward was kinda infamous back in the 8t grade, the rumors were spread to scare us freshman, and boy did they work. He was a middle-aged man and literally, no hair. I don't think it was a fashion statement, I just think he scared his own hair away.

He was the English teacher at Greenland High School, and English was my worst subject, and I had a feeling it was going to get worse with how Mr. Ward kept glaring at me.

Sighing, I looked out of the window I sat next to, and counted down the hours I could go home and hopefully catch a glimpse of the boy.