Zero - Pt. 1

The first time Vito saw her he was sitting in his elementary school conjugating Spanish verbs with his SAT class. A little forehead and messy blonde hair peeked in through the window. He didn’t think much about it. Once his after-school SAT class let out he wanted to hurry home to his piano instructor, but the fall wind bit angrily and he stopped to pull on his gloves and scarf. That’s when he saw her for a second time. Not far from him, attempting to hide behind a table was the thin, peaky looking girl. Her hair was greasy, and despite the weather she wore only a dirty tank top, soiled shorts and no shoes on her frozen feet. She stared wide-eyed. Vito turned to walk toward her and she bolted, stumbled slightly, and took off at a sprint across the grounds and into the distance.

A few days later, during an advanced quantum SAT class, that Vito was sure was being taught by an undergraduate, he saw her again. She peeked through the window at the board, at the teacher, at the students, and her eyes grew wide when she spotted Vito staring back at her. She ducked out of sight. After his class let out, he walked to the tables where he had last seen her, but she wasn’t there. He strolled to the end of the building and spotted her small bare feet behind a trash can. She saw him coming and jumped up to run again.

“Wait, wait,” he threw up his arms, tossed his bag to the side, “don’t run, it's okay.”

She backed away.

“Please, wait, my name’s Vito, what’s yours?”

She shook her head violently and averted her gaze.

“Please, stop, I just want to say hi...Here, take this,” he pulled off his scarf and held it out.

Her eyes widened as she shook her head again; she made a strange noise and took off at a run to the end of the grounds where she disappeared into the bushes.

It took Vito many tries. He saw her a couple times a week, sometimes during his after-school SAT classes, but also sometimes during school hours at the edge of the playground watching the children play. He always waited for her. He always tried to speak with her. Most times she ran away from him.

It wasn’t until one day in early spring when the clouds threatened rain as Vito sat down at a table with two juice boxes placed upon it that he coaxed her to him. She sat awkwardly at the table, like a deer sitting with a hunter. They drank idly together.

“What’s your name?”

She sipped on her straw.

He sipped on his.

“Zero,” her voice cracked.

“Hi Zero, I’d like to be your friend.”

She leapt from the table; he was certain she was going to run away again, but instead she ran to the swings on the playground and beckoned him.

It was something she saw friends do on the playground: swing. So they swung. Because all that mattered at that time was being friends.

They met after school every now and then. Vito always brought food that she never turned down. She didn’t talk much and Vito didn’t ask many questions, instead they just sat and ate and played.

One day they sat on a set of stairs, watching some doves pecking through the lawn when Vito took off his shoes.

“Here, take these.”

She shook her head, “Mom don’t like it when I come home with shoes.”

Vito slid his shoes back on his warm, clean feet.

She took the cookies he offered and left at a light jog into the bushes beyond.

Vito graduated elementary school and went to his middle school; he learned violin and French, won the district spelling contest, was awarded $500 for winning a state science fair, and, once he got to high school, joined all the Interbaccalaureate classes and three university courses. For a while he returned to the elementary school wondering if he would see Zero again, but soon his visits stopped. His life moved on, but he didn’t forget his friend…