"It wasn't me, I didn't do it. Please! I fell in love, but I didn't do it. Please believe m—" I turned off the TV.
Oh yeah, by the way, I'm Chris. I'm fifteen, and I like long walks on the beach. (Just kidding.) I live in my school's dorm with a friend and classmate of mine, Veronica, Ron for short. It's a pretty normal Sunday night.
"Ugh, why ain't there any good shows here?!," I said while signing.
Right!, signed Veronica, Barely any subtitles either! Well, she actually signed: CORRECT. CLOSED CAPTIONS. ALMOST. NONE. I've gotten kinda good at interpreting though.
That's why George bought N-E-T-F-L-I-X, She signed George as "G", as a name sign. It's way quicker. She fingerspelled—spelling, but with sign language—Netflix. There wasn't any equivalent in ASL. Well, that concludes your ASL lesson, class dismissed. Back to the plot.
Bored, I put on a winter coat, gloves, and shoes. I went to the door. Ron, I'm going to N-A-T-I-O-N-A-L.* Want anything?, I signed.
(*Short for National Bookstore—a Filipino bookstore, also selling stationery, school and office supplies)
She put her right pointer on her left hand's palm, then wrote a line. She then opened an imaginary book. The sign for Notebook.
"Another? You own, like, forty." I made the sign for 40. She couldn't read lips, but she got the point from my confused look and sign for 40.
She glared at me like she would make her own notebook with my limbs.
"Okay, okay, fine. Geez," running my hand through my hair.
The bookstore was a 15-minute walk. Even with a coat on, the small flurry that blew through my face was enough to give me chills. Even though the coldest that nights would ever get was 26 Celsius. Ron always joked that my blood was constantly frozen. I now stay awake at night thinking: If I broke my arm, would my blood sound like actual cracking ice?
Inside the bookstore, the air smelled like old leatherbound books. I wanted to stay then and there and disappear into the bookshelves, but Ron would kill me if I did. I would like to say that death is a slight inconvenience.
I scanned the shelves for any books that looked intriguing. Playing with my hair, sitting in the air, I looked like a monkey in a library.
Someone tapped on my shoulder. I jerked my hand out of my hair to get into c o m b a t p o s i t i o n, almost ripping out a chunk of my hair in the process. I lost balance and fell.
The person tried holding in a chuckle, more or less failing. He tried a smirk instead. He kept on shifting his weight. Left leg, then right. Left—you get the point. He was about 8 inches taller than me, maybe more. He wore a juniper green t-shirt. A charcoal grey hoodie wrapping around it. He took out his hand and reached out. My gloved hand took his hand, and he lifted me up. It was Terra.
We knew each other since second grade. Second grade, I was assigned the Peace Officer of the class. I took this with great pride and utter irresponsibility. Terra had always been one of my—uh—let's say targets. He and his group were the types to—how do I explain it. Well, you know when you go to the bathroom at school. You really don't want to go back and learn about red stars are colder than blue stars and shit like that.
He was that guy, don't get me wrong he was a nice guy. As a kid, I thought damn, rich people are terrible human beings—don't ask. Terra was never the I-have-a-galaxy-fold-for-every-day-of-the-week-and-i-get-seizures-if-i-use-a-Monday-phone-on-a-Wednesday, he was an I-donate-to-charity-for-fun-and-because-i-have-too-much-money kind of guy. Maybe that was why we clicked. Oh, I clicked.
"Okay?" he still had that damned smirk.
"I think so, thanks."
"So... you done?"
"Couldn't find the book, so I guess so."
He glanced at the notebooks in my hand. "Veronica needs another one?"
"Yep. Oh, this time the death threat was less personal."
He laughed, covering his mouth. There was something about his laugh that couldn't stop me from blushing.
He caught me blushing.
"You okay? You look kinda red, maybe it was th—"
"It's nothing" I fake laughed, scratching the back of my head.
"If you're sure then," He teased. He put his hand on my hair. A wave of shivers traveled through my body. "Let's go pay for these now."
Back the dorm I looked like I was painted with red, blushing like c r a z y. Even Ron was concerned, and if Ron is concerned, you know shit's about to go down.
"He's just so mmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM." I covered my face with a pillow, unable to control my emotions. Ron tapped my shoulder.
She made the letter G with her right hand, putting it on her chin. The sign for Gay. She made two thumbs-up signs together, wiggling the thumbs. Sweetheart's sign. You and T-E-R-R-A, she continued signing.
She continued teasing me until she realized she needed sleep. Me screaming into a cheap pillow apparently wasn't helping.
Seriously, she signed, Stop it. It's 10-o-clock. D-O-R-M-M-A-T-E-S need sleep. I tried to sign back but she grabbed my hands. A sweet gesture if you're a hearing person, but since Sign Language is talking with your hands, she wanted me to shut up.
I would like to brag that I got a decent amount of sleep that night.
YOU ARE READING
And He Changes
RomanceA normal day in Goodwille High School, at least for everyone except Chris. Terra, one of his close frenemies, had just changed, it was as if he liked him. For him at least. He starts giving him some hints, and Terra starts to feel the same. B...
