Silence by Deborah Lytton Page B

calculus homework, and then I write to her.
    I have a challenge for you. You have 17 days to wait. Until then, I can show you all the things you can do without hearing. At the end of 17 days, 1 of 3 things will happen: 1. You will hear again. 2. You can give up. 3. You will be able to imagine yourself differently. Will you let me help you?
    I don’t know how she will respond. Will she say yes?
    She doesn’t say yes or no. She sends this:
    Why would you want to do that for me?
    My answer is simple.
    Because I had to figure things out on my own, and I wish someone had helped me.
    There’s more, of course. Like the way I felt when she touched me. How everything disappeared—the past, the memories. It was like the earth stood still for a split second, and we were the only two people in the world. No one has ever made me feel like that before. I want to feel it again. I want to be with her again.
    I don’t wait long for her response. It shines with promise. Hope.
    Yes.

17
     
    —  Stella  —
     
     
    My first thought when I read Hayden’s challenge is that I am depressing scenario number one—a charity case. But my second thought is that I don’t care. Not if it means more time with Hayden.
    When I receive his response to my question—that he wishes someone had helped him—I answer him in the only way I ever would answer him. It seems that we are bound together by circumstance, by pain, and maybe by something more.
    Yes.
    It’s 3:20. Hayden will be here at 3:30. I pull on my favorite jeans and a blue tank top, wrap a sweatshirt around my waist, and head for the front door. I plan to wait outside again. I sit on the step, reach over to tie my shoes. This time I can do it. Baby steps, I tell myself.
    When Hayden’s truck pulls up, I am suddenly nervous. I twist a strand of hair around my finger as I wonder why I agreed to this. But the second Hayden comes walking toward me, I am calm. And happy. Really happy.
    He’s wearing a blue baseball cap and a navy T-shirt with tattered jeans. His smile is wide and welcoming. I stand before he reaches me.
    “Hi,” he says. His eyes sparkle like the waves in the ocean.
    “Hi,” I return shyly.
    He is looking at me in that way again, like he can see into my soul. It’s unnerving and exciting at the same time. I have to look away.
    “Tied my own shoes today,” I say, looking at my sneakers. The bows are lopsided, but I did manage to do it myself, which is an improvement. I sneak a look at him to see his response.
    “I guess you don’t need me anymore,” he teases.
    I grin. “Guess not.”
    We stand there smiling at each other. But it isn’t awkward. I’m warm inside. Giddy, even.
    Hayden offers me his arm. “Ready?”
    “Just one thing.”
    Hayden waits, studies me. My stomach flips over once. Twice. I take a breath.
    “My mom wants to talk to you.”
    I don’t know what I expect his reaction to be. Annoyed, frustrated, even maybe self-conscious? But Hayden is none of these things. He smiles and nods. “No problem.”
    I turn and open the front door. I step into the foyer, and Hayden follows.
    “Mom,” I call.
    She comes out of the kitchen, smiling. I see her mouth move. Then she surprises me by hugging Hayden. She gestures toward me, touches me gently on the arm. Her mouth is moving too quickly for me to decipher anything. I look at Hayden instead. I watch his mouth.
    “Don’t worry. I’ll take good care of her. She’ll be completely safe.”
    I turn to look at my mother. She nods, giving me permission to go with a smile that reaches all the way to her eyes. I can tell she is happy that I am out of bed and actually wanting to do something outside the darkness of my bedroom.
    I hug her and whisper in her ear, “Thank you.”
    She kisses me on the forehead.
    “I’ll have her back before dinner,” Hayden promises.
    Hayden opens the front door, and I follow him outside. I breathe in the air. I suddenly feel like I could fly.
    I float to the truck, where