Teaching Noah | √

010

RIGHT AFTER CHURCH on Sundays, Lennon always tried to find her way to my house. It was one of the days we had to ourselves— to hang out and relax, especially since we didn’t see each other every weekday anymore.

“Would you look at that?” I heard Lennon say from the living room window.

“What’s that?” I looked away from my phone and made my way to the window where she stood, and my eyes went wide.
It was Camden who seemed to be clearing out his front lawn— shirtless.

“To be honest, with a body like that, Camden Weston can have me,” Lennon’s words were almost slurred as she was clearly feeding her eyes.

“Shut up,” I told Lennon, which was ironical because I was having a hard time trying to peel my eyes off his body.

“I can’t believe this is really what he’s got under those jean jackets.”

I swallowed and forcefully dragged my eyes to Lennon, “We have to leave here before he sees us.”

“Right, give me a minute,” she didn’t look at me. “He’s not my neighbor. This might be the last time I would ever see him like this.”

“Come on,” I dragged. “Today is for just two of us.”

With that, Lennon stepped away from the window. “Fine, but I think he saw me, though,” her eyes went wide, “Now he’s going to think I’m a creep when he sees me at school.”

“I told you to leave the window,” I countered. “Now, what are we doing today?”

Her face lit up as she skipped to the kitchen. “So, I was thinking we have milkshakes today. I brought almost everything we might need for a strawberry milkshake, and I was hoping you might have a few other things,” she explained, throwing her short, curly hair into a messy bun on top of her head.

“What else do you need?”

“Uh… a blender, of course. Some milk and strawberries—  only a few, though.”

“We have those,” I nodded.

“Perfect,” she squealed, clapping her hands together with a wide smile on her face, accentuating how deep her dimples were.

Anyone who said Lennon wasn’t beautiful could be called a liar. Though her flawless skin struggled to stay a shade between white and brown, she was very well toned. She had warm hazel eyes that matched her warm, kind personality and smile. A smile that made me believe people weren’t always going to be mean.

I remember I was seated by the playground in 5th grade, eating the lunch Mom had packed for me when the disturbing urge came. My shoulders shrugged continuously, causing my plate of food to fall to the ground.

“Will you still be able to eat that?” I looked to see an equally short girl with black shoulder length hair, but her cute, small ears drew my attention almost immediately, and I couldn’t help but notice that she spoke differently.

Still shrugging, already frustrated at the lasting duration of the tic, I shook my head, biting my lower lip to keep from bursting into tears because I had just thrown away all my lunch.

She tilted her head for a brief second before scooting closer to me, “Want to share mine?”

“N- no, it’s fine,” I answered.

“You know, it’s kinda funny how you’re shivering when it’s quite hot,” she squinted up at the sun. She looked back at me with a smile on her face, “The weather’s nice, though. Reminds me of where I’m coming from.”