by Matt St. Amand

Created on: February 23, 2009

It was the summer before high school, and I talked to her on a dare.

I was at the park on the last day of June, playing basketball with my friends on the blacktop court. After my friend, Darryl, won the game - sinking a fifteen-footer over two other defenders - we retreated into the shade, where we left our water bottles. As I downed my blue Gatorade, Darryl nodded in the direction of the playground equipment. A girl was over there pushing two little kids on the swings. He dared me to go ask her name.

"If she's all snaggle-toothed," I said, "I'll say you want a date."

"Go to hell."

Being thirteen, I didn't know enough to be shy around girls. I took the dare. Looking at her long brown hair, I tried guessing her name: Jenny, Lisa, Karen. She wore a white tank top and faded blue cutoffs, and stood with her back to me. Her legs were long and smooth and tanned.

I stopped about five feet behind her.

"Hey, how're you doing?" I said, suddenly nervous, and unsure why.

She didn't answer. Didn't even turn - just kept pushing the kids on the swings: a boy who looked about five years old and a little girl, with long dark hair, whom I guessed was about three or four.

"Are you new around here?" I said, a little louder.

No response.

The guys were probably laughing their asses off watching me.

The kids on the swings looked in my direction, and the girl turned a moment later, seeming startled to see me. I don't know how long I looked at her, but for a couple of seconds that's all I could do. She was beautiful. Brown hair and hazel eyes; piercingly pretty - the kind of pretty that makes your eyes focus hard and your windpipe sort of close.

"Hi," I wheezed, suddenly needing to clear my throat.

"Hi."

"My name's Wendell," I said.

"I'm Hadley Graham."

"You new around here?"

"Down from Guelph babysitting my cousins."

The way she looked at me was odd. Like she was concentrating on me. The way she talked was different, too. Like her words were dull around the edges.

"Are you deaf?" I said.

Hadley nodded. "I had encephalitis when I was five. When I got better I couldn't hear anymore."

I never heard the word encephalitis before.

She smiled. "It's okay, though. I know what you're saying as long as I can see your lips. So, you better mean what you say to me."

I didn't go back to my friends that afternoon.

~

Hadley's aunt lived on Cyprus Avenue, a fifteen-minute ride from my house. Hearing the kids' voices around the back, I walked my bike to the rear gate. There was Hadley on the wide wooden

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