fragile [PREVIEW ONLY]

Chapter 10

I lifted my hand a little, waving shyly at Theo, and I was surprised to see him return the gesture. His brown eyes looked dull, less warm than they had been on Thursday in class, and his facial features were drawn tight. I watched his jaw unclench as he offered me a hesitant smile - no more than one corner of his mouth curling upward - before he did the unexpected.

He came over to me.

"Hey," Theo said, glancing nervously at his feet.

I smiled back at him, unsure of how to proceed, while the awkwardness of the situation seeped through the air between us. I've visited this park almost every Saturday morning for the last two years, always ending with a trip to the Observation Deck, and I've never run into any of my classmates. I wasn't even sure I've run into my classmates anywhere in the last few years, so I'm not really sure how to handle myself in this situation. Normally people just smile and nod, giving me the polite brush-off, and that's only if they don't decide to ignore my existence entirely.

Shuffling my feet, I reached into the small yellow purse I carry with me and pulled out a tiny blue notebook with a stubby pencil. Being deaf, I try to be prepared for all circumstances. My yoga pants didn't have a pocket for the notebook I normally carried around, so I always kept a spare in my purse. Granted, I could just use my phone, but I didn't like risking it. What if the battery died? Plus, I was a sucker for the nostalgia.

What brings you here this early?

I scratched the note on the first blank page and handed it over to Theo. His smile broadened ever-so-slightly, but it still didn't reach his eyes as he reached for the pencil in my hand. My eyes grew wide as I jerked the notebook back to him, holding up a finger for him to wait, before jotting down a new message.

I can read lips, you know. If that's easier.

He chuckled, his shoulders shaking imperceptibly from the laughter I couldn't hear bubbling up from his chest. When he looked up at me, I caught a hint of sadness in his chestnut eyes before it was replaced quickly with an empty veneer.

"Needed to get out of the house," he tells me, his lips moving just slow enough that I can tell he's being considerate without being a dick like the people who exaggerate everything like I'm not only deaf but stupid. "You?"

Same, I scribbled on the paper. Saturday morning tradition.

His eyebrow lifted after he read the note, "Every week? Damn. This must be where you find your zen."

Shaking my head, I passed the notebook back to him.

I wish. It does keep me out of a padded cell, though, so that's a bonus.

"Sounds like I should join you," he replied. "This view sure beats therapy."

Therapy? What would someone like Theo De Vries need therapy for? He's a track star, a shoo-in for salutatorian, his parents were loaded, and he's gorgeous. If life kept score, Theo would be at the top of the leaderboard without question.

It does, I wrote back to him. It's the perfect escape from reality, even if it is only temporary.

After passing the notebook back to me, he turned and looked out over the sandy beach far below us that stretched out to meet the ocean. Waves lapped against the surface, beating a pattern into the earth that I could see even if I couldn't feel it. It thrummed into my body every time I stepped into the ocean, the ceaseless rhythm tugging at me.

His eyes looked dark as he stared out at the endless expanse of blue, almost as if the water was tugging at him now - calling him away from here - and like he wanted to answer. To disappear into its depths.

He turned back to face me, "So what did you come to escape from?"

I shrugged, resisting the urge to roll my eyes as I wrote three capital letters on the paper before flipping it around to show him.

"Mom," he repeated as he read it, nodding in agreement. "I get that."

I pointed at him, my green eyes filled with the question that I didn't think I needed to write down for him to understand. He sucked in a breath, grimacing as he leaned forward on the railing to glance back over the water. The skin of his knuckles was pulled taut from the grip he held on the wood, and he released it after a few seconds before turning to face me.

"Everything," he replied.