‘Rugby. And tennis sometimes.’
‘Oh, I see. Are you heading back to your friends to watch the rest of the races now?’ I asked.
‘No, I thought I’d stay here with you, if that’s all right?’
Whoa! So he was going for it, was he? Two could play that game.
‘Sure. Tell you what, let’s go for a walk,’ I said.
‘A walk?’
‘Around the grounds. Away from everyone else.’
‘Can you . . .? I mean, do you want . . .?’
I laughed. ‘It’s my eyes that don’t work, my legs are fine.’
‘Yeah, of course. Sorry.’ I heard Ethan get to his feet. I stood up, ignoring the hand he put out to help me.
‘Let’s walk downstream towards the car park, then cross the stream and walk round behind the tennis courts,’ I suggested.
‘Fine with me.’
We started walking. Ethan stuffed his hands in his pockets until I placed my hand on his bare forearm. He must’ve been wearing a short-sleeved shirt. And there it was again, that strange humming through my fingers. Ethan’s arm started to flap about like a fish out of water. He didn’t know what to do with it, where to put it so I could rest my hand on it. I stopped, withdrawing my hand as I waited for him to figure it out. After a moment or two, he took my hand and placed it on his forearm, which was now steady. We carried on walking in a strangely amiable silence.
‘So tell me what you can see,’ I said.
‘Huh?’
‘Describe what you can see.’ I smiled at Ethan. ‘Unless, of course, you’d rather not.’
‘No, I don’t mind. I just . . . OK . . . well, we’re walking beside the stream now and there are oak trees on either side of the stream and over there is the car park and over there is the school and—’
My hand gently squeezed his arm. ‘That’s not what I meant. Tell me what you can see.’
‘But I just did.’
I gave him a hard look. ‘Ethan, are you wearing your school tie?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘Could you take it off and put it around your eyes?’
‘Come again?’
I smiled. ‘You heard me right the first time.’
‘Why d’you want me to do that?’ Ethan asked.
‘I’m going to take you around the school grounds.’
‘With my eyes blindfolded?’ Ethan asked, aghast.
I laughed at the panic in his voice. ‘That’s right. You’re going to have to trust me.’
‘But you . . . you can’t see.’
‘Oh my God! Thanks for telling me. I hadn’t noticed!’ I teased. ‘So are you going to do it, or are you too much of a chicken?’
Slowly, Ethan removed the tie from around his neck and tied it around his eyes.
‘You’ve got to do it so you can’t see anything,’ I told him.
‘I have.’
‘No, you haven’t.’
‘How d’you know?’ The amazement in his voice was very gratifying. ‘OK! OK! My eyes are totally covered now.’
‘Let me touch your face.’
I felt him lean forward. I raised my hands to run my fingers lightly over his face. My fingers began to hum again as I touched his skin. He had a large forehead (lots of brains!), a strong nose and a firm chin, and his lips were full and soft. I couldn’t tell about his eyes because they were covered with his tie. His tie smelled of sweet green and sharp, tangy gold. Belling Oak colours. I would’ve been able to tell the colours even if I didn’t already know what they were. Satisfied that his eyes were indeed completely covered, I linked his arm with my own. He instinctively stiffened at that.
‘Don’t worry, your friends won’t be able to see us over here.’
‘It’s not that,’ he denied. ‘But suppose we end up in the stream or something?’
‘Then we’ll get wet!’
There was a pause, then Ethan laughed. His body relaxing, he said, ‘All right then. D’you know where you’re going?’
‘I know this school like the back of my hand. Don’t worry. Now . . . which way are we facing again?’
A sharp intake of breath from Ethan had me cracking up.
‘You’re not funny,’ he grumbled.
We walked for a minute, listening to the distant cheers and the occasional birdsong.
‘What d’you think of this tree?’ I asked.
‘What tree?’
‘The one right in front of us. It’s my favourite of all of them here,’ I said, adding, ‘No, don’t,’ when I felt his other hand move upwards to remove the tie from around his eyes.
‘But I can’t see it. I can’t see anything.’
‘See it without using your eyes.’
‘How do I do that?’ Frustration began to creep into Ethan’s voice.
I took Ethan’s hand and stretched it out in front of him until it touched the tree trunk. ‘What does it feel like?’ I asked, my hand resting lightly over his so I could feel what he was doing.
‘Rough.’
‘What else?’
His fingers began to move slowly across the tree bark. ‘Cool. Sharp in places. Here’s a smooth bit.’
‘And what does it smell like?’
Ethan looked over towards me.
‘Go on!’ I encouraged. ‘It’s international hug-a-tree day! Tell me what it smells like and feels like. Don’t be shy.’
Reluctantly, Ethan moved closer to the tree. He stretched out his arms to hold it. Waves of ‘what-the-hell-am-I-doing?’ rippled out from his entire body.
‘It feels . . . strong. Like it could be here for ever if it was left alone.’ Ethan’s voice grew more quiet, but more confident. ‘And it’s got secrets. It’s seen a lot of things and knows a lot of things, but it’s not telling. And it smells like . . . like rain and soil and a mixture of things.’
‘Come on,’ I said, taking his arm again.
‘Where’re we going?’
‘To our next stop.’
I led Ethan further down the stream before I turned us to our left and walked a few steps.
‘Now you have to do exactly what I say,’ I told him, leading him down a gentle slope.
‘Are we going to cross the stream here?’ he asked, a frown in his voice.
‘That’s right.’ I smiled. ‘We’re going to jump across.’
‘But . . . but I can’t see where I’m going,’ said Ethan, horrified.
‘Then use your other senses. I’ll help you.’
‘Why can’t we use one of the bridges?’
‘Because everyone does that. We’re going to be more adventurous. I want you to jump from here. It’s less than half a metre to the other side at this point. Just jump, then let your weight fall forward and grab hold of one of the tree roots sticking out of the ground. OK?’
No answer.
‘OK, Ethan?’
‘D’you really think this is a good idea?’
‘Trust me. And once you’ve grabbed the tree root, haul yourself up out of the way ’cause I’ll be right behind you.’
‘All right,’ Ethan said dubiously.
I placed my hands on his shoulders and turned him slightly to straighten him up so he wouldn’t be jumping at an angle. ‘Don’t worry, Ethan. My nan can jump half a metre and she’s got bad knees – always assuming I’ve led us to the right bit of the stream, of course.’
‘You mean, you’re not sure?’ Ethan was appalled.
‘I’m only winding you up,’ I told him gleefully.
‘You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?’
‘You’d better believe it! Now then. After three. One . . . two . . .’
‘Three!’ Ethan shouted. And he jumped.
To be honest, I was impressed. I thought he’d need a lot more coaxing. I heard an ‘Ooof!’ followed by the mad scramble of his hands as he sought and found a tree root. The ground here was covered in exposed tree roots so I knew he’d have no problem. He hauled himself up the bank to the level ground beyond.
r /> ‘Here I come!’ And I jumped. In a way, I’m sorry Ethan didn’t see me. A sighted person couldn’t have done it better. I landed cleanly, then stepped up the bank, pushing against the roots beneath my feet. No need to get my hands dirty.
‘Are you OK?’ I asked.
‘I think so.’
‘How did it feel to jump?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Ethan.
‘Yes, you do.’
His sharp intake of breath told me that I was right. ‘I was a bit nervous. I know the water is only a few centimetres deep but it suddenly felt like it was kilometres deep and kilometres down.’
‘And how did you feel when you landed on the other side?’
‘Relieved!’
‘Anything else?’
‘Yeah. Kind of proud of myself.’
‘Being blind is like jumping off a cliff – except you jump never knowing what’s on the other side. Everything is an adventure for me. Walking along the street, going into a shop, meeting new people, even reading a book. I see things I never saw before. D’you know how much I hate reading the phrase, “How could I have been so blind?” when the author is using it to mean stupid? That really pisses me off, but I never even noticed it before losing my sight. I travel through life never knowing what I’ll come across or what I’ll find, whether I’ll be delighted or disappointed, hurt or happy. Everyone else travels that way but most take it for granted. I don’t. Not any more. Does that make sense?’
‘I think so.’ Ethan didn’t sound sure at all. But it was enough.
I reached out to link arms with him again. ‘Have you still got the tie around your eyes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then it’s time for our next stop.’ I led the way along the fence and past the car park.
‘I have no idea where we are,’ Ethan said, perplexed.
‘That’s OK. I do.’
We walked on for another few minutes before I stopped.
‘Where are we now?’ asked Ethan.
‘By the tennis courts. What can you hear?’
Ethan was still for a moment. ‘Birds and a faint droning sound.’
‘That drone is the traffic on the other side of the school building.’
Ethan turned his head slightly. ‘I can hear some cheering now from the sports field but it’s very faint.’
‘Anything else?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘OK. Kneel down.’
‘Why?’
‘Trust me!’
Ethan shook his head but he still knelt down. I smelled what I was looking for. The scent was overwhelming. I took Ethan’s hand and put it out to touch the thing I could smell.
‘Just use your index finger and thumb to touch this,’ I said. ‘Rub it gently between your fingers but don’t touch anything else except this bit.’
When Ethan’s fingers were on the object, I let go of his hand.
‘What is it?’ he asked.
‘What d’you think it is?’
‘I don’t know . . .’ Ethan said slowly. ‘It feels like a bit of velvet but there wouldn’t be velvet around the tennis courts.’
I reached out and touched the object, my fingers next to Ethan’s. ‘A deep yellow velvet.’
‘How can you tell what colour it is?’
‘Yellow has got quite a high voice. This yellow’s voice is slightly lower, which means the shade is deeper, but it’s definitely yellow.’
‘Do you know what it is I’m touching?’
‘Yes, I do.’ And all at once I didn’t want to do this any more. I felt wistful and sad. ‘Take off your tie now. Have a look at what you’re touching.’
Ethan removed his tie at once and gasped. ‘It’s . . . it’s a flower . . .’ he said, shocked.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’
‘A deep yellow flower,’ Ethan whispered.
‘There’s more to seeing than just looking, Ethan,’ I told him. ‘Your eyes work. Never forget what a gift that is. I can feel colours and I’m grateful. But to see . . .’
‘A flower.’ Ethan’s voice was awestruck. I didn’t have his full attention. I wondered if he’d even heard me.
‘Ethan, touching that flower and seeing it with your fingers – that’s what seeing with my other senses is a tiny bit like. I see things in ways that you can’t or won’t because you don’t have to. I’m grateful for that as well, because I can still appreciate the things around me. Maybe even more than a lot of sighted people do.’
I sensed Ethan looking at me then. Really looking – for the first time. I wondered how he saw me now. I smiled at him.
‘I . . . look, I have to tell you something,’ Ethan began uneasily.
‘Forget it.’
‘No, it’s important. I—’
‘Harry and Jacob bet you that you couldn’t get me to go out for a pizza with you and get a kiss out of me. But for your information, they’ve both asked me out and I’ve always turned them down flat, so they reckoned you had no chance.’
Silence.
‘Stop it. You’re staring!’ I laughed.
‘How did you know that?’
‘What? About the bet or that you were staring?’
‘Both.’
‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you,’ I teased. ‘And by the way, I wouldn’t tell my brother about the bet if I were you. He’s massively over-protective where I’m concerned and he’d probably want to punch your face into next week.’
‘I’m sorry, Amber. I . . . I suppose you don’t want anything more to do with me.’
‘I knew about the bet before you’d even said one word to me – remember?’
‘I still don’t understand how.’
‘I heard you.’
‘You couldn’t have. We were practically across the field,’ Ethan protested.
‘Exaggerate much? You were only a few metres away and the wind was blowing in my direction.’ When Ethan didn’t answer, I said, ‘I have ears like a bat. Always have done. And I’ve always had a sixth sense when it comes to spotting when people are lying to me.’
A profound silence followed my words. How I wished I could see Ethan’s face at that moment.
‘We’d better get back,’ Ethan said at last, his tone strange.
Now it was my turn to be bemused. ‘What’s the matter?’
Ethan took my hand and rested it on his arm. His touch lingered a little longer than was necessary on the back of my hand. We started back towards the sports field, my hand lightly resting on his arm. I knew the way back without any problem but I wanted to sense what he was feeling. From the way his muscles were bunched and tense beneath my fingers I could guess what was going on in his head. He wasn’t happy.
‘Ethan?’
‘I’m really sorry, Amber. You must think I’m a real dickwit. And I don’t blame you.’ His words came out in a rush of genuine embarrassment. And there was something else, something more behind them.
‘Why would I think your wits are dickish?’ I smiled.
Ethan looked at me then. And his gaze hadn’t changed back – I could tell. He was still looking at me with the eyes of someone who could see me. Not a blind girl and nothing else. Not someone to be pitied or patronized or mocked. Not someone who was less than him. But a girl who could see without using her eyes.
‘Can I . . . can I touch your face?’ said Ethan.
Surprised, I nodded. He moved to stand in front of me. A moment later his fingers were exploring my face, starting from my forehead and working their way down, skimming over my eyebrows, my closed eyes, my nose, my cheeks, my lips, my jaw, my chin. He leaned in closer. I could feel his warm breath on my face. He smelled of mints and chocolate. Was he going to kiss me? Ethan’s hands dropped to his side as he straightened up.
‘Why did you do that?’ I asked, wondering why I felt so disappointed.
‘I . . . I don’t know.’ He took my arm in his and we carried on walking.
‘What about Jacob and Harry? Did
n’t you have to kiss me to win your bet?’ I asked.
‘Those two can go . . .’ Ethan swallowed the next word. ‘ . . . themselves. If I kiss you it won’t be to win some stupid bet.’
I smiled. ‘So where are we going for this pizza, then?’
Stunned, Ethan stopped walking and turned to look at me. ‘You still want to go out with me?’
‘Course I do. I’m starving.’
The sigh of relief that came from Ethan made me giggle.
‘D’you know something?’ Ethan looked around. ‘I never noticed it before, but everything around me is so . . . so . . .’
He shut up then. I raised my hand to touch his radiating cheek.
‘I could fry an egg on your face.’ I grinned. ‘A couple of rashers of bacon too.’
‘Shut up!’ said Ethan.
I burst out laughing. ‘Come on,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and watch my brother come last in the four-by-one-hundred relay.’
And we walked over the bridge together to join the others.
FROM
MORE THAN THIS
BY
PATRICK NESS
‘Don’t you think I hate it, too?’ Gudmund whispered fiercely. ‘Don’t you think it’s the last thing I want?’
‘But you can’t,’ Seth said. ‘You can’t just . . .’
He couldn’t say it. Couldn’t even say the word.
Leave.
Gudmund looked back nervously at his house from the driver’s seat of his car. Lights were on downstairs, and Seth knew Gudmund’s parents were up. They could discover he was gone at any moment.
Seth crossed his arms tightly against the cold. ‘Gudmund—’
‘I finish out the year at Bethel Private or they don’t pay for college, Sethy,’ Gudmund practically pleaded. ‘They’re that freaked out about it.’ He frowned, angry. ‘We can’t all have crazy liberal European parents—’
‘They’re not that crazy liberal. They’ll barely look at me now.’
‘They barely looked at you before,’ Gudmund said. Then he turned to Seth. ‘Sorry, you know what I mean.’
Seth said nothing.
‘It doesn’t have to be forever,’ Gudmund said. ‘We’ll meet up in college. We’ll find a way so that no one—’
But Seth was shaking his head.
‘What?’ Gudmund asked.
‘I’m going to have to go to my dad’s university,’ Seth said, still not looking up.