Read the intro to Words In Color here.
Jason Mraz – You And I Both
Words In Color – Chapter 1
Amity leaned her head back against the wall of the apartment building. It was hot. Even in the shade she was sweating like a pig. She wished for a pool, a real one, not the one she created sitting on the vinyl couch suffocating under the glory of a swamp cooler. She’d never been in a steam room before, but guessed it was similar to the feeling in her apartment.
“Sit in the flower bed. It’s not as hot.” Her mom had said, but the thought of creepy crawlies and dirt on her butt wasn’t all that appealing, so she took an old blanket and spread it out as far as she could on either side of her. So far, it was working aside from the June bug that dive bombed her right eye.
Then she saw him. It had been awhile, but there he was, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the carport holding a book in one hand while the other scribbled quickly with what looked like a pencil. She wondered what he was writing, but didn’t have the nerve to ask, so, watched. She was good at that particularly when her subject didn’t know she was there, watching.
He put the book and pencil down then pulled something from his pocket and began marking on the ground of the parking lot.
“Hm, a guy who still likes to doodle with chalk,” Amity thought. For a second she classified it as juvenile, but decided if chalk were available right now she’d be doodling aimlessly on the ground too even if she was on the verge of sixteen.
She found herself mesmerized by him, so intent on what he was doing, drawing. His black hair glinted in the sunlight as he leaned back rolled his shoulders then stretched his bronze arms overhead and looked behind him. Their eyes met as if magnetically bound. Amity froze caught in his stare, but more than that, caught staring. He did a double take and sent a sideways grin before she brought her book up between them.
“Geez! That was embarrassing,” Amity said under her breath. She searched for the place she’d left off reading, but the words seemed unfamiliar as if she’d never seen them. A fact she knew to be untrue as she’d read The Black Stallion at least fifty times.
Amity lowered the book a hair to see if he’d gone back to drawing. He had.
“Oh good. He’s forgotten about me,” she thought surveilling him once again. This time she kept the book perched on her knees to make it look as if she were really reading, but lowered it just enough to see him over the edge.
The boy looked over his shoulder again studying her, maybe trying to decide if she were really reading instead of drilling a hole in the back of his head with her eyes. Standing, he turned facing her then crouched low and continued to draw. Every now and then he’d look up, even paused once for a few minutes and stared in her direction, his almond shaped eyes daring her to look at him for longer than a blink. Amity made sure to turn a page, or two, giving the impression she was, in fact, reading.
After what seemed like forever, but not long enough, he stood, picked up his notebook, smiled at her and walked away. She grinned behind her own book, but doubted he saw being at least forty feet away.
“I hope he doesn’t think I’m infatuated with him,” Amity thought as she watched him disappear around a corner. The truth was, she could hardly keep her eyes from him the whole time he was out here and that went for anytime he was out here, so she guessed infatuated might be appropriate.
Amity waited a few minutes remaining in her position. She wanted to see what he’d drawn, but couldn’t chance him swinging back around and catching her in the act. Not that it would be horrible if he did, catch her. It wasn’t like she didn’t have any business in that area, which she didn’t, but she couldn’t wait until her dad got home and parked over it. A tragedy marked by dripping oil and tire tread.
Finally, she closed her book and stood, making her way slowly to the carport while keeping her eyes fixed in the direction he’d walked. Her heart raced. What would she do, say, if he showed up? She wondered. She thought herself horrible with words, well saying them. She was better at reading them and had a certain knack for writing them, but coming out of her mouth, not good.
She reached the edge of the sidewalk where he’d been working and stopped. It was like nothing she’d ever seen. A beautiful angel, her wings wrapped around her in an embrace, eyes closed in a silent solace as she leaned one side of her face into the feathery pillow. The detail of her being was amazing. She wondered what kind of chalk he’d used to draw such precise features, but decided it wasn’t the chalk to be in awe over.
Her eyes traced the wings, their realistic beauty moving her to reach down and stroke them. She rubbed the dust between her fingers as if it might tell her something about the sketch, the artist, then continued tracing the outline to the bottom. Scrawled in a half circle under a wing was his name, “Dustin Knight.” Amity repeated it in her head a million times further engraving it on her memory. That’s when she saw it, the message, just below his name, two letters, “Hi,” with a smiley face below.
It was already a hundred degrees outside, but she felt her temperature rise another twenty knowing he’d probably written the message for her, the mute girl in the corner pretending to be a statue when she really wanted to be next to him. Embarrassed, Amity jerked her head up quickly glancing around expecting to see him spying on her around a corner, but he was nowhere in sight.
Taking a breath, she relaxed enough to notice he’d left a piece of chalk next to the message, so did what came naturally – wrote back.