Speechless(73)

                I sit up straighter, bracing myself for the worst.

                “What’s your favorite color?”

                Okay, that’s the last question I expected. I was thinking                     something more along the lines of Why are you such a                         bitch? or How dare you? or something else                     dripping with disdain and accusation.

                “You were right when you said I know nothing about you,” he                     explains. “So let’s remedy that. We’ll start off easy. Tell me your favorite                     color.”

                I try to hide a grin as I write on my board. Guess.

                “Oh, I see how it is. You’re going to make this hard for                     me.”

                I like to keep an air of mystery.

                “I’m sure you do,” he says with a smile.

                A smile? I’m so surprised I almost fall off the stool. It’s a                     nice one, too. Kind of lopsided, but cute. The fact that it’s so unexpected                     makes it even better. I return it with one of my own, a real one, and I feel the                     tension between us fading like a slowly deflating balloon.

                Sam even walks me to my locker after class. He doesn’t say                     anything about it, just does it like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. I                     appreciate the company, if only because listening to him talk helps distract me                     from worrying about who I might possibly run into. I text Dad to let him know I                     don’t know when I’ll be home since I’m being tutored after school, which isn’t                     really a lie; Asha said she’d help me out again. That girl is on a diehard                     mission to drill geometry into my head.

                “Okay,” Sam says, leaning into me as some freshman barrels past                     us on the staircase, “favorite Peanuts character.”

                He spent all of class playing this game with me—trying to guess                     things about me without me speaking. All I have to do is shake my head or give                     him the thumbs-up when he guesses correctly. So far he’s found out that my                     favorite color is green, my favorite vegetable is carrots and my middle name is                     Rose. That last one took a lot of guessing on his                     part.

                “Let’s start with the obvious,” he says. “Charlie Brown.”