~Andrea~

I bit my lip and shook my head, furious with myself as I walked off school grounds.  It was weird for me to talk so openly with anyone…and to someone I didn’t even know!   It didn’t seem odd at first.  Maybe it was because Micky’s music numbed me and my brain and something inside of me took over. 

For once, he had been uneasy and I hadn’t.  But as soon as his eyes again started meeting mine with his characteristic, open curiosity, I bolted. 

Busy as I was mentally reprimanding myself, I saw the public bus pull away from its stop.  Distracted from my previous thoughts, I took off after the bus. 

After a few steps I realized how stupid and futile it would be to run after it.  It wasn’t as if I would stop or catch it. 

Then I heard someone skid to a stop behind me.  Micky started to curse softly but broke off before saying the entire word. 

“That was the bus.”  He said with a sigh.  I nodded.

“Unfortunately.”  I answered, carefully avoiding his eyes.  He looked at his wristwatch.

“Jeez.”  He muttered.  “Good thing I’m not working today.”  He turned to me.  “How long is it going to take to walk ten miles?”  I gave him a smile.

“Too long.  We can walk four in about an hour and make it to the other bus stop in time.”  Micky looked surprised.  It took me a few seconds to realize that that was probably the longest string of words he’d ever heard me say.

“Really?  It goes the same way?” 

I nodded, ducking my head and picking at a loose string on my sweatshirt before quickly walking in the other direction.  In a few swift steps he was beside me again.  We walked in silence for a while before I felt obligated to start a conversation.

“So…”  My voice sounded hoarse in my own ears and I cleared my throat.  “So you lived in Korea?”  I managed.  He nodded and looked at me.

“A while ago.  I was born there.” 

“It must be really different.”  I said wistfully.  I saw him look at me through my peripheral vision.

“It is…”

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~Micky~ 

She seemed curious about Korea but I was just happy she was talking.  It wasn’t long before she seemed to run out of words.  

“You know, you look kind of Asian.  Are your parents?”  I asked.  I wanted her to keep talking.  I wanted to hear her voice.  She smiled and nodded.

“Mmm…my dad was born in the Philippines.  So I got his looks.  My mom has Irish blood...red hair and green eyes to match.”  She tucked her hair behind her ears.

“No kidding.”

“So where did you learn to play piano?”  She said it all in one word.  Sowheredidyoulearntoplaypiano.  I looked at her quickly.  She bit her lower lip.  Ducked her head low. 

Why was she always so apologetic when she asked a question?  When she used her voice? 

She kicked a stray stone across the sidewalk.

Talking to her was like walking on a sheet of ice.  I felt like if I moved too fast I’d fall flat on my . 

“No where.”  I answered easily.  She raised her head. 

“You taught yourself?”  She asked.  I nodded.  She broke into this smile that made me smile too. 

“Wow.”  She said.

We kept talking like that.  Trading careful questions.  Stupid questions that you would find on questionnaires.  Favorite colors, animals, seasons…  Somehow we found ourselves at the bus stop.  We talked on the ride home.  The silences were short and few.  I felt like she was started to open up to me. 

Only a little. 

Before I knew it we were standing where we needed to part.  I had been surprised to learn we lived only a few blocks away from each other. 

“Won’t your parents be worrying?”  I asked her.  She seemed like the type of girl who lived a sheltered life.  But she shook her head.

“They’re probably not home.  What about yours?”  I laughed and shook my head.  She nodded. 

“See you at school Monday?”  I asked instead.  She nodded again.

“Probably.” 

“Okay.” 

I waved awkwardly and walked away in the direction of my apartment building.  I was a yard or two away when she called out my name. 

“Micky?”  I turned.  She had never used my name before that.

“Yeah?”  She suddenly looked a little lost, like she didn’t remember why she had called me.

“Y-you’ll sign up for the talent show in the spring?”  I shook my head.

“Probably not.” 

“You should think about it.”  She managed, bowing her head so low that her words were muffled.  I promised I’d think about it. 

“Bye, Andrea.”  I said.  She waved.

“Bye, Micky.” 

I liked the way my name sounded when she said it.