by Rebecca Williams

Created on: July 14, 2009

Strange sounds and flashes of light come from their garage. Their yard is kept watered, or green, though no noticeable effort of their own.

And that kid never will tell me what he's doing and his answers to why he won't play ball with us just leave me confused.

I spy on him, sometimes, just for something to do. I know I shouldn't, but it looks like he's building some invention that will make him famous and I want to know about it.

I've tried making friends with this kid for quite some time. We've lived next door to each other all our lives.

He and I went to the same school until second grade, when his parents took and started homeschooling. Now, five years later, he's preparing college apps. I'm trying to qualify for the eighth grade football team. He reads books three inches thick. I read Sports Illustrated. He was in the newspaper for his prize-winning 50-page analysis of the Declaration of Independence. I was mentioned in an article about girls playing "boy" sports. He doesn't seem to ever talk to people. I have a friend over at least once a week.

I've asked him to come with my group to get pizza or ice cream many times. Usually, he says he's too busy - something about the mysteries of the universe. One time, he did accept, I think because I threatened to put him in a headlock if he didn't.

That turned out to be a very strange experience. Some of the guys were going over football strategy and Mr. Brain was listening with apparent interest. After a few moments, he grabbed a napkin and pulled out a pen. He began writing and sketching. He then pushed the napkin towards me, still not saying anything. I looked over his notes and up at him with surprise.

"This is a great play. I've never seen anything like it. Where did you come up with this?"

"Based one their comments regarding the game, I concluded that this would be logical. Does it follow the rules?"

I couldn't respond for a moment. Finally, I just said, "You're brilliant."

"That seems to be the general consensus. I have an alternative hypothesis."

We still use that play occasionally. It almost always lands us a touchdown because counter-plays are not in the books.

I definitely wish he would hang out with us more often, but it would upset his experiments. He let me watch him work one day, provided I didn't touch anything. He explained that many of his instruments were very sensitive and some were dangerous. I also had to wear goggles.

I'm still not sure I understand what happened in his lab that day. There was an explosion and his potion changed color. He poured it onto a large piece of gravel from his driveway and it began to change. Right before my eyes, this rock became lavender and smooth. One word appeared - my name. With his permission, I picked it up and flipped it over. The other side was rough and blue and his name was there.

"It's for you," he said. "To remember me while I'm at college and you're busy going giddily through adolescence. I'll find you again one day, and I don't want you to have ruined your life with drinking or drugs. Hopefully, this little rock will remind you of that."

I know that I am only fourteen, but I think I already know that no boy will ever measure up to the genius next door.

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