your thumb to touch this,” I said.
When Kyle's fingers were on the object I let go of his hand.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice more than curious.
“What d'you think it is?” I asked.
“I don't know …,” Kyle 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 Kyle's. “A deep yellow velvet.”
“How can you tell what color 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,” I told him.
“Do you know what it is I'm touching?” Kyle asked.
“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.”
Kyle removed his tie at once and gasped. “It's … it's a flower …,” he said, shocked.
“Beautiful, isn't it?”
“A yellow flower,” Kyle whispered.
“There's more to seeing than looking, Kyle,” I told him. “Your eyes work. Never forget what a gift that is. I can taste light and feel colors and I'm grateful. But to
see …
”
“A flower …” Kyle's voice was awestruck. I didn't have his full attention. I wondered if he'd even heard me.
“Kyle, 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 Kyle looking at me then. Really looking—for the first time. I wondered how he saw me now. I smiled at him as he straightened up.
“I … look, I have something to tell you,” Kyle began uneasily.
“Forget it.”
“No, it's important. I …”
“Dean and Joseph bet you that you couldn't get me to go out for a burger with you. But just so you know, they've each asked me out and I 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.”
“‘Cause I'm brilliant!” I teased. “And by the way, I wouldn't tell my brother about the bet if I were you. He's a bit overprotective where I'm concerned and he'd probably want to punch your lights out.”
“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.”
“But we were practically across the field,” Kyle protested.
“No, you weren't. You were only several meters away and the wind was blowing in my direction.”
When Kyle didn't answer I said, “Are you OK?”
“We'd better go back,” he said, his tone strange.
Now it was my turn to be surprised. “What's the matter?”
It was a long time before Kyle answered. We started back to the sports field, my arm lightly resting on his. I knew the way back without any problems, but I had wanted to sense what he was feeling. And it didn't take a genius to guess from the way his muscles were stiff and tense what was going on in his head. He wasn't happy.
“Kyle?”
“I'm sorry, Amber. I guess you hate me now. And I don'tblame you. I behaved like a real jerk.” The words came out in a rush of genuine embarrassment. And there was some-thing else, something more, behind them.
“Why should I hate you?”
He looked at me then. And his eyes 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. Not someone to be pitied or patronized. Not someone who had less than him. But a girl who could see without using her eyes.
“So d'you still want to go out for a burger later?” Kyle's voice was barely above a whisper. If it wasn't for my bat ears I
When Kyle's fingers were on the object I let go of his hand.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice more than curious.
“What d'you think it is?” I asked.
“I don't know …,” Kyle 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 Kyle's. “A deep yellow velvet.”
“How can you tell what color 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,” I told him.
“Do you know what it is I'm touching?” Kyle asked.
“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.”
Kyle removed his tie at once and gasped. “It's … it's a flower …,” he said, shocked.
“Beautiful, isn't it?”
“A yellow flower,” Kyle whispered.
“There's more to seeing than looking, Kyle,” I told him. “Your eyes work. Never forget what a gift that is. I can taste light and feel colors and I'm grateful. But to
see …
”
“A flower …” Kyle's voice was awestruck. I didn't have his full attention. I wondered if he'd even heard me.
“Kyle, 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 Kyle looking at me then. Really looking—for the first time. I wondered how he saw me now. I smiled at him as he straightened up.
“I … look, I have something to tell you,” Kyle began uneasily.
“Forget it.”
“No, it's important. I …”
“Dean and Joseph bet you that you couldn't get me to go out for a burger with you. But just so you know, they've each asked me out and I 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.”
“‘Cause I'm brilliant!” I teased. “And by the way, I wouldn't tell my brother about the bet if I were you. He's a bit overprotective where I'm concerned and he'd probably want to punch your lights out.”
“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.”
“But we were practically across the field,” Kyle protested.
“No, you weren't. You were only several meters away and the wind was blowing in my direction.”
When Kyle didn't answer I said, “Are you OK?”
“We'd better go back,” he said, his tone strange.
Now it was my turn to be surprised. “What's the matter?”
It was a long time before Kyle answered. We started back to the sports field, my arm lightly resting on his. I knew the way back without any problems, but I had wanted to sense what he was feeling. And it didn't take a genius to guess from the way his muscles were stiff and tense what was going on in his head. He wasn't happy.
“Kyle?”
“I'm sorry, Amber. I guess you hate me now. And I don'tblame you. I behaved like a real jerk.” The words came out in a rush of genuine embarrassment. And there was some-thing else, something more, behind them.
“Why should I hate you?”
He looked at me then. And his eyes 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. Not someone to be pitied or patronized. Not someone who had less than him. But a girl who could see without using her eyes.
“So d'you still want to go out for a burger later?” Kyle's voice was barely above a whisper. If it wasn't for my bat ears I
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