And there’s a definite novelty to knowing what my teachers are talking about instead of just zoning out as usual. Like, in geometry, I actually understood the equations Mr. Callihan wrote on the overhead projector. Okay, not all of them, but some. And I even took notes. Detailed ones! Asha is a saint. She really is.
This is what I tell—well, not tell, but write to—Sam while Ms. Kinsey pontificates on the technique behind charcoal shading. He looks at my sketchpad and laughs, and when he takes my pencil, his fingers cover mine for a moment.
yeah she’s pretty awesome
Awesome x awesome. Awesome2
awesome3
Awesome99999999
awesomeinfinity
What is the square root of awesome?
√awesome = asha
You should be the one tutoring me.
maybe in home ec
Sewing? I already know how to do that.
cooking
Asha said she’d teach me to knit.
tuna melts and scarves. you’d be set for life.
You’d really show me how to make a tuna melt?
if you want. coming to rosie’s tonite?
Depends. Am I welcome?
sure
What about Andy?
i talked to him
AND?????
& he’s cool
Liar.
o.k. you’re not gonna be best friends anytime soon. but he won’t punch you in the face or anything. promise. maybe you could talk to him?
…are you kidding?
nevermind
* * *
Sam’s suggestion for me to talk to Andy sticks with me for the rest of the day. I know he probably didn’t mean it literally, but it makes me wonder about what, exactly, it will take for me to talk again. I know I can’t stay silent forever, but the longer I don’t speak, the less inclined I am to start. Still, that doesn’t change the fact that Sam is right. Andy deserves an explanation. An apology. Something.