Staccato

Wish Upon A Star

Efrim never smiles.

On that first day of school, he hadn't smiled at me. He had only told me his name, and then asked me mine, in one single word. Yours?

When we count from one to ten, he repeats mechanically after our teacher, his face blank.

And it bugs me.

I want to know what he'd look like if he smiled.

So today, I think of sitting next to his chair in the class.

Laurie always talks to a buck-toothed brown-haired girl, and I really don't want to be anywhere near their girly talks. They talk about dolls. And fairy tales. It's so stupid and silly!

I really wish Efrim would talk with me.

Then I would talk to him about my mirror worlds, and night skies, and people in far away worlds.

We talked that day didn't we? I asked him his name. And he asked me 'yours?'.

I want to hear him say more words to me.

He always looks so alone and lonely. No one really pays him attention, because he is always quiet. When all the other kids yell and laugh, Efrim only sits staring out the window, into the huge green grounds and the trees outside, the light throwing his pale face into a ghostly glow, and his eyes seem lost. Sometimes some teacher would ask him something, and he would always give some answer back, but then he would go back to staring out the window.

Maybe he likes nature. Well, I like nature too. Maybe he really would like to talk about night skies and mirror worlds.

And when he sits alone, I feel very sad. Because he helped me on that first day of school, and he told me his name and he asked me yours? and I told him my name.

So when I walk into the class today, and I see Efrim already sitting at his spot (Laurie prances to her buck-toothed best friend and sits excitedly next to her), I walk toward Efrim (he has his eyes lowered, and he looks engaged with a box of crayons). He is wearing a white shirt today. I'm wearing white, too. It is a sign that I should sit next to him.

I'm standing before him now.

He barely notices me. He is carefully opening his box of crayons and picking some colours.

It's the art hour. We have white papers already placed on our tables.

"Hi Efrim." I speak clearly.

He looks up at me. Eyes slightly startled.

They're the exact same colour as mine. Same eye colour, same shirt colour.

"Same eye colour, same shirt colour." I say.

"What?" he narrows his eyes and frowns a little.

"What's the colour of your shirt?"

"Um," he looks down once, like he doesn't remember what he is wearing. "White." he says. He looks up at me, and his eyes clear. "You're wearing white too." he says, and nods a little. "Okay." he says.

I pull the chair out and sit down on it, then drag myself closer to the table, squirm a little to settle in, and pull my paper toward myself.

The teacher enters in by then and tells us that we are supposed to draw our 'deepest wish'.

"Deepest wish." I say.

I look at Efrim then, to find that he is simply sitting blankly staring ahead at the teacher.