I grab your hand, thinking nothing of it. We make our way to the front of the school, and I am content listening to my peers’ laughter. I am content listening to the teachers freaking over PDA’s, or the principal barking orders from our over-crowded parking lot. Wishing that I could stay in this forever, my form of paradise. Holding your hand, listening to all the commotion around us. It was a melodic, alluring and soothing sensation for me. I remember inhaling the noxious fumes of the buses as they left, and you laughing as I gagged. But then, for some reason the memory always recedes as you laugh. And right before I awake from the dream, I see the jocks in our school throwing stones towards us as I glance in your direction. That’s when I always wake up.

Shaking slightly at the fact that I’ve been having this dream for a month straight now, I slowly lift my bed sheets and stretch. Trying to push the dream out of my mind (I had long ago given up on trying to figure out who the girl was) I went through my normal routine of getting ready for Middleview High School- shower, teeth, clothes, breakfast. Slipping out of the house before dad was up, I grabbed my bike and started the mile-long trek to school.

Arriving with a slight sweat, I lock my bike up alongside the school building and make my way through the halls. With my eyes once again roaming the retched green-painted walls, I carefully avoid every student and manage to make it to my locker without any trouble. Stuffing my things into the rusting space, I make my way to class, trying to get through another boring day.

After the day is over, I pack up my things and try to ignore all the happy banter that’s all around me. I’m not a big believer in friends, I don’t see why you need to lean on other people when you can just as easily accomplish things yourself. Leaving the building, I unlock my bike and walk towards the sidewalk when out of the corner of my eye I see a group of jocks circling something. Looking back I’m not sure why I headed over there, since I’m not particularly interested in things like this, and was somewhat shocked to see these guys throwing rocks at someone. I couldn’t see who it was since there back was turned towards me, but I assumed it was a girl because of the long soft-brown hair. When I was about to turn away and leave, the girl twisted her body around, and somehow caught my eye. With a sharp intake of breath, I realized with a shock that this was the same girl I had been dreaming of. I ran.

I tried to push her out of my mind. I tried to tell myself that it couldn’t be real. She wasn’t real. It was just a figment of my imagination. But I couldn’t help but know deep down in my heart that she was the girl. Deciding not to think too heavily into it though, I went through my regular daily motions (all the while avoiding Dad and his drunken mannerisms) and I finally went to sleep. That night I dreamt of the girl again, and this time instead of seeing her being hit with rocks, she was alone. I walked up to her and she gave me the warmest smile. With a twinkle in her eye, she handed me a slip of paper and walked away. Opening the paper, I read the beautifully written words as I woke up the next day- My name is Suzette.

I was bursting with curiosity. I didn’t know who this was girl was and I didn’t know how or why I kept dreaming of her (not that I didn’t mind... too much) but I knew that I had to confront her. So I quickly got dressed, grabbed my gear and biked furiously to school. Putting my bike to rest against the chain fence, I strode purposefully towards the office. Meeting Mrs. Phyllips, I asked her if there was a girl named “Suzette” in the school. She answered yes, a Suzette Walters, a sophomore (just like me!). I asked where she was first period, and discovering it was Earth Science, I made my way towards the class, not caring about my own.

When I made it there, I asked the teacher (who’s name I could never remember) for Suzette Walters. I saw the same girl I’d been dreaming of turn around and give me a curious look, then she stood up and walked my way. Leaving the class room together, I walked down the hall with her, asking her who she was. I wanted to know her. But she never answered me. I didn’t understand why. I looked at her questioningly, and I saw in her eyes she was pleading. For what I had no clue, but before I knew it, she was pulling out a notebook from her back pocket, and she was writing furiously. In that same beautiful hand writing that I had dreamt of, she wrote I’m mute. Going from the paper to her face, I couldn’t register what she was thinking, her face was a blank canvas. And without really thinking, I said out loud “That must suck.” And her face lit up and she laughed a startling sweet laugh.

That was a few weeks ago. Since then I’ve asked her many questions, including how often she was being bullied (since she moved the beginning of the year) why she was being bullied (she couldn’t speak and no one would stand up for her) and the most important question (I think of) how was she able to laugh (to which she gave me another beautiful laugh and explained that when she was born her vocal cords didn’t work, and she couldn’t speak. But she explained further and said laughter doesn’t come from your vocal cords, it comes from your face, eyes, heart. Laughter is something that can be expressed regardless of any impediment). Suzette and I have been hanging around each other a lot, and people have been noticing I suppose. I’ve over heard girls in the hall talking about us. I could care less. There have been a few instances where people have tried to pick on her, but instead of my putting on a poker face and turning away, I’m here for her. I haven’t told her about the dreams, but maybe someday I will. For now, I like to see it as we are here for each other. She’s the one girl I could trust, and I the one boy that would listen.

I grabbed your hand, thinking nothing of it. We make our way to the front of the school, and I am content listening to my peers’ laughter. I can over hear the teachers freaking over PDA’s, or the principal barking orders from our over-crowded parking lot. Wishing that I could stay in this forever, my form of paradise. Holding onto you as if a soft breeze could blow you away, listening to all the commotion around us. It was a melodic, alluring and soothing sensation for me. I remember inhaling the noxious fumes of the buses as they left, and you laughing as I gagged. Only this time it isn’t a memory, your laugh is as real as the hand that I’m holding. I am happy to know that this is no dream, that no one is picking on you. We are complacent with life, taking it one step at a time.