The Boy Next Door

3

The next day, I avoided him, even going as far as to take alternate routes to my classes. I concentrated furiously on my worksheet in third period, not daring to look over at him, and paying strict attention to the teacher in fifth, which wasn't difficult since I do that most of the time anyway. Not that I noticed, but his dark brown hair was unkempt and slightly wavy as always, but it was a bit more wild today. He seemed on edge, similar to me I supposed.

    The rest of the week went on in a similar fashion, and the weekend was a relief. On Saturday night, I played my cello to calm my nerves. Just some random stuff for fun that I had learned over the years, but when I played Arabesque, one of my favorite pieces, it happened again.

    Leo was playing along with me, a little improvised accompaniment part. Instead of stopping this time, I kept playing. The music flowed out of me, and grew and grew along with Leo's playing, until the grand finish.

    The last bow stroke left me breathless, and once again I stood at the window and Leo was gazing at me, a grin plastered on his face. I smiled back and looked down at my bedroom floor. I was thrilled that the boy I've been watching play for so long was playing with me.

    We played together every night after that day, always ending with both of us grinning and quickly looking away. Soon though, the Washington rain came, and we had to close our windows. It was too hard to hear so we couldn't play together anymore. But still, I would watch him, and he would watch me.

    One of these nights though, after he finished playing, something incredible happened.

    "Hey. You're really good at cello" he signed.

    I could understand him I realized.

    "Thank you" I signed back, blushing furiously. "So are you. At piano"

    I had been studying extra hard at sign language once we started playing together. I worked hard with the teacher, staying extra after school and sometimes even coming before school just to work on my sign language. I was by no means perfect, but I was over the moon that I could now communicate with him and understand what he was saying.

    I didn't really know what else to say, so I said "How are you?"

    "I'm alright, you?

    "Same"

We stood there awkwardly, not having anything to say, so I waved a little goodbye and laid on my bed. My heart was pounding a mile a minute. Why was this boy getting me so worked up?

    I looked out the window again and he was gone, like he'd never been there in the first place.

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