Broken Knight (All Saints High 2)

He hadn’t noticed me, focused instead on his conversation with April. They’d stood across the hallway from me, oblivious to my presence. He had a laid-back, confident smile, like he didn’t consider his muteness a disadvantage. He had a roommate, Ryan, who’d sometimes interpret for him, the way April did for me. And sometimes he’d type things on his phone to communicate. But he always walked with the self-assurance of someone unstoppable, inspiring me to think maybe I could feel that way someday, too.

I knew with fierce certainty that our paths were bound to collide. We were both freshmen, studying in a small college in North Carolina, and both of us were mute. My instinct had proved true about four weeks after I initially saw him.

I’d hurried into Starbucks to escape the drizzle, tossed my scarf and pea coat onto a table by the window, got myself hot cocoa, and had the barista, Nicole, punch the timesheet Malory had given me—testimony that I was keeping up with my twice-a-week sessions. I’d always kept my Starbucks visits as brief as possible, staying the twenty minutes Malory requested from me and dashing back home.

But this time, when I’d turned around to take my seat, Josh was perched on a stool at my table, clad in his jockey outfit and a smile that could melt hearts. Nervous, but open. I’d liked that he was confident, but still not completely well-versed in his attractiveness, like Knight was.

“Am I that invisible?” He’d tilted his ball cap down and signed to me, knowing I would understand him.

There was something in my stomach. Not exactly butterflies, but not the usual, empty hum I usually got when guys—even handsome guys—spoke to me. I’d lifted my eyebrows.

I could do it. I could answer him. I could use teenage as a verb.

“You weren’t here when I came in,” I signed, poking out my lower lip.

“Prove it,” he challenged, knotting his arms across his chest.

He was long-limbed and lean—good looking, but not intimidatingly so. I could imagine him accompanying his mother to the mall or playing Xbox. Things Knight did, technically speaking, too, but he still looked too untouchable and beautiful to be bothered.

“That’s ridiculous,” I motioned.

I reminded myself to breathe. I was doing it. I was having a conversation. With a stranger. A breakthrough.

“Says who?” he asked.

“Says me.” I nearly snorted.

“Pretty sure you’ll need to prove your case and not vice versa. I’ve been taking some pre-law courses.”

“Where’s your drink, then? If you were here before, you must’ve ordered something.” I bit my lip.

His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, which was buzzed close to the scalp.

He sighed. “You got me. I just saw an opening to talk to you and went for it. Clearly, my plan was not bulletproof.”

“Are you stalking me?” I asked, mostly joking, but I couldn’t help but feel a dash of panic, too, a familiar tug in my stomach. I was not in the best headspace.

I couldn’t get Knight out of my mind, as if talking to Josh was cheating on him, though he had no claim. I’d tried Skyping Knight a dozen times since I’d been at college, but he never answered. He did text me sometimes, and I kept reading and rereading his messages, trying to decode some deeper meaning, especially after how we’d left things at Vaughn’s party.

We’d never talked about the slap. I was too embarrassed to bring it up, and these days he seemed to tiptoe around me, dipping his toes in mindless pleasantries but avoiding an actual conversation.

Knight: Broke my middle finger. Switching to running plays. Killing my pass percentage. I’m getting hit more. Texting less. Stay safe. x

Knight: Sorry couldn’t answer. Need to rest. How’s school?

Knight: Missed your call again. Sorry. x

Luna: How’d you break your middle finger?

Knight: Fingering the wrong asshole.

Knight: JK. Practice.

Luna: I miss you.

Knight: xx.

Luna: How is Rosie?

Knight: Fine.

Luna: You know how I feel about that word…

Knight: Sorry. Good. Mom’s good. x

I sometimes wondered what hurt more: Losing someone all of a sudden, like in a plane crash, or losing them piece by piece, like I did Knight. It was like feeling a once-warm body growing cold next to you in bed. Chills ran through my back. I wanted to throw up half the time I thought about him.

“Stalking you!” Josh had thrown his arms up, feigning exasperation and commanding my attention. “For your information, yes, I did stalk you. But only a little. And only when we were both already out and about. I don’t know where you live or anything creepy like that. But I was walking on Main Street on my way to get chicken noodle soup for my sick roommate when I saw you walk in and thought, there’s my in.”

I’d smiled at him. Really smiled, for the first time in a long time. He was charming and pleasant and normal. Yes. That was the part I liked most about him.