Page 13 of Xavier

“Hi.” Well, that’s a start.

He just blinks and then pushes past me, down the alleyway along the side of the ice cream shop.

It’s not what I expected.

“Hey!” I call after him. “Are - are you always so rude?” I ask before I can stop myself.

I see his feet falter, just for a second, before he reaches for a door in the side of the building.

***

I come back the next day.

And the next.

I don’t know why. I just do.

I’m not always the first one there after school, but I’m always the last to leave. I don’t see him much, but there’s something about just knowing he’s there that brings me comfort. I use the time to finish my assignments, listen to music, run through my final performance dance routine in my head.

As the crowd thins, sometimes he just sits behind the counter, his head deep in a textbook or taking notes. I try to scan the titles of his books from where I’m sitting, but every time he lifts his eyes, it seems like he catches me staring at him, so I stop.

He never says a word to me. Even when I wave goodbye to him, three afternoons in a row, he just ignores me. I don’t know what I’d say to him if he ever acknowledged me. Maybe ask him why I’m so compelled by him. But I don’t. I just say goodbye.

And wonder why it’s so hard for him to say it back to me.

My Thursday dance rehearsal runs long and I’m out of breath as I run to the ice cream parlor, hoping it isn’t closed by the time I get there. As I rush past the window, I breathe a sigh of relief as I notice a few stragglers still in the corner booth, and him bent over a table running a cloth over it, collecting the debris in his hand.

There’s no time to sit and stare today, though; I’m there for a different reason. Instead of getting up last night to dance, I’d spent it writing a letter to him instead. If he wasn’t going to let me say any words to him, then he could at least read them. I woke up this morning to a pile of scrunched up paper at the foot of my bed, but I knew that what I’d written was what I wanted to say.

When he spins around from the table he’s just cleaned, I’m there, waiting.

“Hi,” I say, my voice breathy from the run and from my nervousness. “This is for you.” I pull the cloth from his hand and push the envelope with my note into his palm. Then, before I lose my nerve, I lean over and press a kiss against his bruised cheek and run away as fast as I can.

***

“Thanks, mom. Bye, I’ll see you tonight.” I give my mom a wave and climb out of the car. I watch as she cuts off another mother as she pulls into traffic, shaking my head at her bad driving.

I pivot towards the school entrance.

And he is there.

“Oh. Um, hi.”

He doesn’t say anything, just lifts his arm and hands something to me.

It’s the envelope I’d given him.

“I left that for you.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just stares at me, his eyes scanning mine with a laser like precision. I feel as if he’s seeing everything I’ve ever seen. Then he reaches over and takes my hand, pushing the envelope into it and walks away, before I can say a word.

“Hey, dipshit! You’re here for some more punishment?” I hear a voice yell out to him, and I see Jack standing by the bus stop, his friends cheering him on.

But he just keeps walking.

I turn the envelope over in my hand. It’s still sealed. He didn’t even read it.