“Oh my gosh, here he comes!” Anna smiles excitedly.



I look over, and see that she’s right. Jonah, my neighbor, my crush, my savior. When I was very little, he called the cops when he saw my parents come into my room. It’s a long story, and I don’t need to tell it right now. But that’s not the point. I quickly walk away, back to math class where I belong.


Besides, Jonah would never want me. I don’t really talk. I didn’t say my first word until I was five. Six years of speech therapy and $5,000 later, I know how to, but I don’t. I was always on the quiet side. That’s how I met Anna. She was real shy, and I didn’t talk much, but we got along in our own ways. As we aged, Anna lost her shyness, but I still didn’t talk much. She never left me though, and her five foot, ten inch built body protected my slim, five foot, three inch body. Jonah had just started talking to me again, ever since the call, I stopped talking all together. Because of that, all the popular girls decided I was an easy target, and picked on me in the one class I don’t have with Anna. Band. On the way there, he’s my bodyguard. Being about two inches shorter in Anna, he had the muscles like all the bodybuilders combined.


Jonah has pale blue eyes that would make any girl melt. His blonde hair on the longer side, covering a little more than half his ears, and always in a cute mess that I have to fix. He would talk to me about everything. His school, his trumpet career, his truck problems that he always seemed to have, and what his brothers did that morning to annoy him. After he walked me to my bus after band, he would kiss my forehead goodbye, and walk away.


I think we are dating. I really do hope we are. He is the cutest thing I have ever seen. My phone buzzed.


Mom:


Don’t ride bus home today. I have to leave as soon as you get here. Find a ride.


Mom’s always trying to get me to talk to people. She knows I hate it, and always tries to make me do it. This time, she may succeed.


“Hey Addie!”


Maybe not.


“Hey, how was math class?” he asked, voice bouncing as he walked. He moved on, talking about how his spanish teacher was driving him insane. As we got in band, got settled, I walked over to the third chair in the back row. “Yes?” he smiled.


I took a deep breath as I stared into his eyes. He looked at me patiently, knowing I haven’t talked in years. I pointed to him, made a driving motion with my hands, then pointed to me, and smiled.


“You want me to take you home?” he guessed. I nodded. “Sure thing. Anytime.” he smiled, and I walked back to my flute.



After band, I walk up to him and pretend to be agitated by him taking so long. He laughs and throws his case in the cubbyhole. I hold up his jacket as he sticks his arms through it. As I zip it up, he grabs my bag off my arm and offers to carry it, since he already has his in the truck.


I try to sit in the passenger seat, but he refuses and scoots me over to the middle. He hooks my seatbelt after he’s climbed in, and starts the truck. After he’s backed out, he puts his arm around me, forcing my head onto his shoulder. It’s a long drive home, about thirty to forty five minutes. My favorite song, Mine by Taylor Swift comes on. I start mouthing the words as I always do, and eventually, the song goes off. After so, he reached over and turns the radio off. I look up at him.


“You have a really pretty voice,” he says as we pull into my driveway.



I close my eyes, and hurry out of the truck. I can’t believe I did that. I hate singing, why did I sing? I can’t sing. I slam the door behind me and run into my room.


About five minutes later, there’s a knock on my door.


“Addie?”


I sigh, and walk over to the door. I open it and see Jonah, holding my piece of crap phone in front of me. “You left this.” I nodd, grab it, and shut the door. Jonah stops me. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve minded my own business.” I shook my head and kissed his cheek. He pulls me into a hug we stay there like that. “I love you.” he whispers.


Tears fill my eyes as he leaves without his response. That’s another thing. I am able to text, I am able to write letters, but I cannot say, write, or text, ‘I love you’. My dad yelled “I thought you loved me!” before he was taken away for good, and I’ve just never been able to write it, let alone say it. Jonah, doesn't know that.


I take a piece of paper out of my bag, and write “I
you” on it. I’ll write the love part when I can. I do love him. I just have to say it.


As the days go on, Jonah and I get closer and closer. We are facebook official, and he takes me home almost every day. As the snow melts into the soggy wet ground, and the air warms, prom is just around the corner. I wake up one day to see streamers all over my bed and ceiling. I look closely, and I see a question scribbled onto many post it notes covering my walls. “Prom?”


I go out with mom and buy my dress. It’s a sky blue, with sparkles and gemstones across the strapless top. It goes down to the floor, covering my silver heeled shoes, making me just an inch or two shorter than Jonah. He picks me up just on time, and after a ten minute photoshoot, we head on to the school, deciding to eat after. My long, dirty blonde hair is braided into many braides, then pulled up to make my hair shorter. Like Katniss’ on her first ceremony. At the first slow dance, Jonah pulls me out to the middle of the dance floor, and we dance. At the end of the song, he leans down and whispers, “I love you.”


I lay my head on his shoulder and nod. Not liking this answer, he leaves.


I walk over to the bleachers, and cry. I cry, I cry I cry. I cry until I have no more tears to shed, and then I cry some more. Anna comes up and hugs me, and I start to cry some more. She hands me a pen, and smiles.


I reach into my purse, and pull out the sheet of paper. I shy, and slowly, write the word love in. “I love you”


I walk up to Jonah, who is sitting by himself, staring at a spot on the wall. He doesn’t look over when I arrive, and still not when I gently poke his shoulder.


“J-J-Jonah,” I say quietly.


He slowly rolls his eyes over to look at me. I hold in my hands the piece of paper with the words on it. He reads it, but you can tell he needs more.


“J-Jonah. I-I l-l-love you.” I whisper shakingly. “Y-You mean e-everyth-thing to me. I-I-I couldn’t as-ask for more.”


Jonah looks back up at me, tears in his eyes, smiling. He jumps up and hugs me, twirling me into the air, kissing my lips softly. The room bursts in applause, where we apparently had an audience.


Jonah and I smile and wave, and the DJ plays Mine for us. In the next couple years, we got married, bought a little house by a creek with a tree in the yard. We filled said yard with three beautiful little kids. I eventually got my speech back, and I used it to teach my kids how to talk, walk, sing, dream, believe.