Davy would sit on the lawn in front of the school, waiting for his guidance unit to pick him up. A collection of kids would run around the grass like they were on a field trip through heaven or hell. They screamed and chased, tackled and blessed the ground with their soft bodies. Davy would contemplate his surroundings, observe the movements of the trees and answer to anyone who came up and said things with wild grins in his face. Usually, he would politely decline invitations to be the space alien or soldier or captive or whatever role it was that needed to be filled, so he would smile and they would shrug and smile back and jump back into their antics, while Davy thought about the persimmons and why cloudy skies made each of their orange bodies so vibrant. Then, his guidance unit would arrive and he would jump into the van and make his way back home.
“How was school?” his mother would say. “Good,” would be his reply. “We cut up some cow parts and then sang songs, and I learned some chords on the guitar, then we talked about how the moon effects tides, and I ran to the fence and back, and a bunch of us took blank pieces of paper together and drew one big picture by putting the pieces together and called it 'the puzzle.' We'll probably just call it that now so that we all know what we're talking about. That way, we can always do it again.” And then, his guidance unit would smile.
It was while he was reading Hiawatha that Davy felt like he was in a story book for the first time. It was strange, like a lullaby that didn't make you go to sleep but instead gave you more life. The sunshine became brighter, his body felt like his, his thoughts felt like his. It had been a few weeks since that strange girl had kissed him. He would never forget that, outside in the sun with the grass billowing like an ocean and his friends all laughing out of awe like they had just seen a huge whale leap from out of the ground, like they had just witnessed a miracle or some kind of extraordinary spectacle, like a cow giving birth. It happened so fast, a quick peck on the cheek, and he was stunned. It planted itself underneath his right ear and then was gone. So quickly lived was its life, no more than a subtle stab of young electricity. Her lips were warm and soft, like nothing he had ever felt, and the sound! The sound made him shudder in fascination. She ran away so quickly afterward that he could not see if she was embarrassed or victorious. Her friends commended her and laughed with her lead. Davy stood there and held his face. That was all he could do. So much beauty, but so much mystery.
And there he sat, reading Hiawatha, looking out the open door of the classroom while the other students read their books, too. Silence breathed over the room, while soft music skated through its currents. He did not even know what he was reading, he was unable to really think about what was happening in the story. What he did know was that girl. Who was she? What did she mean? What did she MEAN?
That girl. She had beautiful black hair and lips that curled slightly, every utterance a kiss, every kiss a spell. Her voice was satin and her laugh was like jello. Hiromi was what she was called. Hiromi... like the blessing that the wind bestowed on the leaves. Her spirit flitted all over the Sea Crest school, emitting fiery embers that plunged into the ocean and allowed themselves to be swept away and massaged towards shore by the waves. She danced and was captivated by music, always eager to participate in its creation, always held by its mysterious allure. She was jiggled by any joke that made friendship. Her guidance units were like Davy's, touched by the Earth and responsive to its meandering trails and distinct skylines, its birds and protozoa, spellbound by its societies and leaders, its wilderness and its tides.
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