Boy Meets Boy

  On the first day, I give him flowers and time.

  The night before, I unlock my closet of origami paper--over a thousand sheets of bright square color. I turn them all into flowers. Every single one. I do not sleep. I do not take breaks. Because I know that as well as giving him the flowers, I am giving him the time it takes to make them. With every fold, I am giving him seconds of my life. With every flower, part of a minute. I tie as many as I can to pipe-cleaner stems. I arrange bouquets and lattices, some topped by cranes. In the morning, I garland them throughout the halls, centerpiecing it all at his locker, so he'll know that they're all for him.

  Every minute, every crease is a message from me.

  On the second day, I give him words and definitions.

  This isn't to say I talk to him -- no, I don't do that at all. Instead, I start a list of the words I love-- resplendent giddy trollop

  -- and then I add definitions --

  resplendent--shining brilliantly

  giddy--lighthearted and flighty

  trollop--an untidy or immoral woman

  Soon I decide to look randomly through the dictionary to find other unique words and definitions. I do this at Tony's kitchen table, with Tony at my side. We decide this isn't homework that we can swap--it needs to come from me.

  scrappage--material broken into scrap

  mucronate--having an abruptly projecting point, like a leaf or a feather frequentation -- the act of frequenting

  Tony's mother drops by the kitchen twelve times in the first hour. First she asks if we need anything. After a while she pretends to need something herself--scissors from the drawer, a phone number from the kitchen notepad. Does she honestly believe that I will suddenly start ravishing her son on the kitchen table if she doesn't interrupt to get a glass of water every ten minutes? I guess there's no way to assure her I won't. Instead, we confuse her with my assignment, as I read aloud all the words that I find, simply by flipping to a page and choosing a word that I like.

  debauchery--indulgence in sensual pleasures

  azure--sky blue

  isochronal--equal or uniform in time Tony tells me he's been thinking of calling Kyle, just to see if he's okay.

  "He probably needs someone to talk to," he says, "and it can't be you."

  I know it can't be me, and say so. I think it's cool that Tony could help him with things. I don't know why it has never occurred to me before, but I can really see them getting along.

  prophetic--predictive, especially when ominous

  vitreous--of the nature of glass

  dulcet--pleasant to the ear; melodious

  The words don't have anything in common. But that's what I like about them. There are so many words in our language; we get to know so few of them. I want to share some of the strangers with Noah.

  After I jot down the words--a hundred in all -- I rewrite them nicely on a long scroll, under the heading

  Words to Find and Know in this World

  I tie the scroll with a ribbon that Tony salvages from his room, a ribbon from a gift Joni gave him for his last birthday. I ask Tony if he's talked to Joni lately. He says, "Kind of," but doesn't explain.

  I leave the scroll of words and definitions at Noah's locker at the beginning of the day. At the end of the day, I find a scrap of paper in my own locker. Noah has given me a word of his own invention.

  literogratumerriment--thanks for the words

  On the third day, I give him space.

  It's Saturday, and I decide to leave him alone. I put a letter in his mailbox wishing him a good day. I don't want to overwhelm him with everything. I also want to give him (and myself) time to think.

  On the fourth day, I give him a song.

  Zeke has come -down to the dance hall because he's going to favor us with some tunes for next weekend's dance. I explain my situation to him, and he offers me some of his troubadour vibe. He asks me how I feel about Noah, and I tell him all my thoughts -- from the goofy to the sublime, the ridiculous to the tried-and-true. I give him materials of longing, materials of hope, and, like an expert quiltmaker, he sews them together into something grand and entire.

  The whole dance committee (all but Kyle, who's opted out of the day) pauses to listen, then breaks out in applause when Zeke is through. Triumphant, he gathers us in his notes and leads us from the school gym into the streets, proud pied piper, swaying and grooving to his strum until we are all on Noah's doorstep, a parade of well-wished well-wishers delivering a song.

  Amber pushes me to the front, next to Zeke.

  "But I can't sing," I whisper to him.

  "I think he'll know it's not from me, even if I'm the one who sings."

  We call up to the bedroom. Claudia comes to the door, shoots us all an evil glare, then says Noah is in his studio. We prevail upon her to get him. Finally he comes to his bedroom window.

  Zeke's voice fills the air with sweetness.

  there is a once when I never think twice

  you give me that, boy

  you give me that

  there is a kind which is much more than nice

  you give me that, boy

  you give me that

  and now it's time for me to reveal

  all the parts of me you've helped become real

  to feel

  there is a go that turns into a stay

  you give me that, boy

  you give me that

  there is a dream which goes its own way

  you give me that, boy

  you give me that

  and still sometimes I feel so much fear

  there are parts of me I want to make clear

  from here

  there is a true which never rings wrong

  I'll give you that, boy

  I'll give you that

  there is a word in search of a song

  I'll give you that, boy

  I'll give you that let me give you that

  I promise

  I promise

  to give you that

  a dream, a song'

  a never of wrong

  a once, a twice

  a much more of nice

  a love, a love

  a floating of love

  I'll give you that, boy

  I promise

  I promise

  to give you that

  Throughout the song, Noah looks at me and looks at Zeke. When he looks at Zeke, I study him like you study a baby, waiting for its next expression. When he looks at me, I quickly look away. I cannot hold his glance, not until I know he's meaning for me to have it.

  When the song is over, Noah smiles and applauds. Zeke bows slightly, then leads everyone back to the gym. I am the last one to go, watching Noah fade back behind his blinds. I walk slowly, wondering what to do next.

  He catches up to me and touches my shoulder.

  "You don't have to do this," he says.

  I tell him I do.

  "I'm showing you," I say.

  "Okay," he says.

  We leave it at that.

  On the fifth day, I give him film.

  I use money I've saved to buy twenty rolls of film, some of them black-and-white, some of them bright outdoor color. On the top of each container I write a word from a quote I'd found from an old photographer: Whether looking to mountains or studying the shadow of a branch, it is always best to keep your vision clear.

  In order to give the film to Noah in a creative way, I need willing accomplices. Tony, Infinite Darlene, Amber, Emily, Amy, Laura, and Trilby are more than happy to help. Even my brother gets into the act, offering to be a delivery boy after I tell him my plan.

  Each accomplice gives Noah the film in a unique way Tony starts it all off by calling Noah's cell phone and leaving a riddle that leads him to the first roll, which I've left sitting atop seat 4U in the school auditorium. Infinite Darlene makes fake-fur stoles for her containers and delicately hands them over throughout the day. Amber creates a Kodak-sized slingshot and fires the rolls into
Noah's bag when he's not looking (and sometimes when he is). Emily and Amy draw faces on their canisters and give them to Noah as a family unit. Laura places the film in mysterious places where she knows Noah will find it (like stuck to the bottom of his desk). Trilby paints her canister the school colors. My brother, bless his heart, simply walks up to Noah and says, "Here, my brother wanted me to give you this." Perfect.

  Even Ted offers to help. He still looks a little unsteady--rumor has it that he's looking for a rebound from his rebound. I've already distributed all the film, so I promise him he's my #1

  sub if anyone falls through. Neither of us mentions Joni, but she's there in our every encounter.

  It still feels strange not to have Joni on my side. (It's not that she's joined someone else's side

  -- she's just left the field entirely.) I wonder if anyone's told her what's going on. I see her in the halls, always with Chuck, never really looking at me. At this time last year, she was helping me hang signs for the Dowager's Dance, telling me when I'd taped up the posters crooked and helping me fix them. If I could get a sense from her that she missed me -- or, at the very least, that she missed our past--.1 would feel better. But this total shutting off makes even the past seem sad and doomed.

  On the sixth day, I write him letters.

  I know I only have a day left. I know when he leaves me a note thanking me for the film that the time will soon come to talk to him, to see if I have a chance. But instead of confronting it right out, I decide to write him back. At first it starts as a note, telling him I'm sure he'll put the film to good use. Then it turns itself into a letter. I can't stop writing to him. I barely pay attention in any of my classes, pausing only to notice images and incidents that I can share with Noah in the letter. It isn't entirely different from when I was writing him notes in class, before everything happened. But it feels more intense. A note is an update or an entertainment. A letter is giving of a part of your life -- an insight into your thoughts beyond mere observations.

  I finish the first letter. I bum an envelope off my guidance counselor and seal the pages inside.

  Instead of relying on my friends, I deliver it to Noah myself. He seems a little surprised, but not un-receptive. I immediately start the second letter, beginning with the moment I handed him the first letter and what was going through my mind. Suddenly the whole week begins to explain itself--I am telling instead of showing, but that seems okay, since I've already tried to show so much.

  I am writing my third letter to Noah in study hall when Kyle sits down across from me. Ever since the cemetery incident, he's dodged me. But now it's clear he wants to talk. I cover the letter I'm writing and say hello.

  He's nervous.

  "Look," he says, "I don't want it to be this way again."

  "Neither do I."

  "So what are we going to do?"

  I realize at this moment that Kyle is brave, too. I want to be worth his courage.

  "We're going to be cool with each other," I say carefully. "We're going to be friends. And I really mean that. Just because I don't think we'd be good together doesn't mean we have to be apart. Does that make sense?"

  Kyle nods. "Yeah. The last couple of days I've been talking to Tony. But you probably know that. At first when he called, I thought, what's going on here? It was probably the first time he'd ever called me, except for the times you were over and he was calling for you. I didn't know what to say to him, and he totally understood that. We've been talking a lot now, and the funny thing is that part of me is glad that all this happened, because if I become friends with him and I'm really friends with you, then it's like the good coming out of the bad. And the bad isn't really that bad. I feel silly about the other day. I thought something was there that wasn't. But now maybe I think something's there that's actually there."

  "It is," I tell him.

  I can't let him know that the something he thought wasn't there wasn't entirely not there. I can't tell him that some of my feelings for him will always be unresolved, and that part of the desire to have him back in my life was to disprove all the reasons he left in the first place. I can't point out to him that right now I like him more than I did in the dowager's crypt--even though I'm not liking him in the way that he wanted me to (Noah has the monopoly on that), I am liking him enough to know that a different time and a different place might have led to a different outcome. But since I'm not planning on leaving this time or place anytime soon, it's not a point worth making.

  We start talking about the dance some more. Now that the awkwardness has lifted, Kyle's going to start showing up again at our committee and help with the final architecture.

  When Kyle's gone, I finish my third letter to Noah. The fourth I slip into his hand as he leaves school. The fifth is the one I take home with me, saving it for the next day.

  Instinct and Proof

  On the seventh day, I give him me.

  I do this by going over and saying hi. I do this by dissolving the distance between us. I do this not knowing how he'll react. Perhaps this will be the one thing that I give to him that he returns.

  I find him in the morning because I don't think I can wait until the afternoon. He hasn't even hit his locker yet--I wait for him on the school steps, the morning light still new. He sees me and I walk over. I hand him my fifth letter and say hello. The envelope is green. When he holds it up, it brings out the green of his eyes.

  "Paul. . .," he begins.

  "Noah. . ." I begin.

  "I don't know what to say." The tone of his voice is more I don't know what to say because I'm speechless instead of I don't know what to say because you're not going to like what I have to say. This is a good sign.

  "You don't need to say anything."

  We sit down next to each other on the steps. Other kids walk into the school around us.

  "Thanks for the letters. I re-read them all last night."

  I imagine him in his wonderful room. I'm glad my words have been there, even if I've been banished.

  "I wanted to write you back," he continues. "But then I decided to do something else instead."

  He pulls an envelope out of his bag and hands it to me. My hands are shaking a little when I open it. Inside I find four photographs. They are snapshots from our town, flashes from the night. Each one is a single word, but I am so familiar with the town that I can tell where they come from as well as what they say.

  From the sign outside the Jewish Community Center: wish

  From a Lotto advertisement outside the stationery store: you

  From the inscription on the cemetery gates: were

  And then, the last photo -- Noah reflected in a mirror he's placed in his studio. One hand holds the camera to his eye. The other is holding a sheet of construction paper, with a single word written on it.

  Here.

  I look at these images and it's like they're the only thing I've ever wanted. How could he know that?

  "Serendipity," he says. "I was up all night developing. I took photos of a hundred words, and these were the ones I wanted. That's what my instinct told me."

  "And what's your instinct telling you to do now?" I ask him. I feel entirely undeserving.

  There's a pause.

  Then he says, "It's telling me to ask you to the dance on Saturday."

  I twinkle. "So what are you going to do?"

  "Do you want to go with me to the dance on Saturday?"

  "I'd love to. It's not that kind of dance--people don't have to ask dates or anything--but I would love to be your date anyway." I can't leave it at that. I have to add, "I'm sorry about everything."

  And he looks at me and says, "I know."

  "I've missed you so much," I say, reaching up to touch his face.

  He leans in and kisses me once. He says he's missed me, too.

  I know this is right. I know he's not going to be amazing all the time, but there's more amazingness in him than in anyone else I've known. He makes me want to be amazing, too.

&nb
sp; I float through the day. Of course everybody who helped me out over the past week wants to know how it ended up. All they need to do is take one look at me and they know.

  "Way to go!" Amber cheers.

  Ted punches me on the shoulder. It hurts, but I know he means well.

  Infinite Darlene says, "Don't mess it up again, honey."

  I tell her I won't.

  I swear that I won't.

  Even Kyle hears. He doesn't say anything to me about it, but when we pass in the hall he gives me a silent nod of approval.

  After school, I meet up with Noah and we head to the I Scream Parlor. He gets a blood-red sundae while I get the sorbet with gummi worms in it. He tells me what's been going on with him (his parents were in and are now back out of town), and I tell him what's been going on with me. I tell him about the whole Joni saga, and about what Tony's been through.