I watch T.V. with my parents for a little while, then around 9 o'clock, I head upstairs to my room. I look out my window and see straight into Matt's room. He's sitting on his bed, his hands behind his head and a book sitting in his lap. He's in nothing but his boxers, sitting on top of his sheets with his fan on full blast. It blows his hair straight up on the left side. You'd think after living in Alabama all his life, he would get used to the heat, especially in the summer, but he never seems to. He hates this heat. I don't mind it really. I actually kind of like it. I'm guessing it's better than living up north and being cold all the time. But I don't know. I've never been up north. I've never even been north of Alabama.

I open my window and search for something of little value. Ah, a pencil, perfect. I toss it out the window and it hits Matt's window with a tiny clink. He doesn't jump, Matt isn't easily startled, unlike me. Whenever he throws something at my window to get my attention I jump about ten feet in the air. But, Matt, he just casually looks over at me and waves. I wave back, then he reaches over to his window and cranks it open.

"Hey, cute undies," I say.

"Sorry," he mumbles and gets up and pulls on a pair of gym shorts.

He sits back on his bed, this time facing his open window and me. I sit on my bed, too in the same kind of way. Matt and I figured out this system a long time ago. We used to use note cards to communicate with each other with the windows closed, but that got tiresome fast. And our beds used to be on opposite walls, so we would have to stand by our windows or pull up a chair, either way, it was kind of awkward. Matt was the one who thought of moving our beds, even though he was reluctant to rearrange his room. God knows he'd never admit it, but he's a total neat freak just like his old man.

"Whatcha reading?"

"Nothing really," he says and tosses the book aside.

"Sounds good," I tease. "Maybe when you're done you'll let me borrow it?"

"Yeah," he says with a laugh. I lean out the window a little, resting my elbows on the window sill.

"Don't do that or you'll fall out," Matt warns. I roll my eyes.

"Please, like that's gonna happen," I say and just as I do, my arm slips, and I lurch forward.

"I told you so," He says with a smug grin. I told you so. There's nothing Matt loves more than saying those four words.

"I really hate you sometimes, you know," I say and retreat back to my room.

"Don't hate me because I'm smarter than you," he says that smug grin sitting comfortably on his face.

"I don't. I hate you because you're an annoying know it all."

"Same thing."

I'm about to say something back when...

"Kiersten!" It's my dad. "Shut your damn window and quit yackin' with that boy! I don't pay for air conditioning so you can let it all go out of your window! And I can hear you talkin' from a mile away! You're going to wake the whole neighborhood!"

That boy. Matt's been living next door to us for almost sixteen years and he's been my best friend for ten. But still, he's That Boy. Or just Boy when my dad addresses him directly. My dad's never been too keen on my best friend being a boy.

"Sorry," I say just loud enough for him to hear. I turn to Matt, who gives me a wary smile back.

"Sorry," I say to Matt now. "I guess I better go."

Matt nods.

"Yeah, I gotta get some sleep anyhow."

"Oh, yeah tryouts tomorrow. You nervous?" 

Matt shrugs, "a little."

"KIERSTEN!"

"OKAY FINE!" I scream, losing my cool for a second.

I look at Matt. He's already got his window shut and is lost inside his book again, just like when I found him. I watch him for a while, wishing he would look at me at least one more time. But I know he won't. He hates it when my dad yells at me. Especially when he feels it's his fault. It's not, but that's not what he thinks. So, I crawl into my bed and pull my sheets over my head. I'm going to need my blankets when the cool breeze blows through my open window.

I sit on my front porch steps the next morning and take in the fresh air. It's hot today, hotter than yesterday or any other day. And on the first day of football tryouts. Matt's gonna be thrilled. Speak of the devil, here he comes.

"Hey," he says and sits down next to me on the steps. In his right hand, he's got a bag of chips. With his left hand, he reaches into the bag and pops a handful of chips into his mouth. He shakes the bag up and then holds it out to me.

"Should you be eating that junk on tryouts day?"

"Dad says I need to bulk up."

"A little late for that isn't it?"

He shrugs, tips the bag back, and pours a load of chips into his mouth.  I see him contemplating whether he should be a gentleman and swallow before talking to me or be a slob and talk with his mouth full. His cheeks puff out like a chipmunk while he tries to chew and swallow all those chips. He struggles for a few more seconds and then gives up.

"Well, before it was about endurance," he starts, his mouth still full. He waits a couple of seconds and swallows before speaking again. "Now that I've got that down, Dad wants me to you know, get some mass."

"Hmm," I say.

Matt isn't a real big guy. He's actually kind of small compared to a lot of the other guys on the team. At the beginning of the summer, he was so excited because he grew two inches from last season. I don't think he's quite hit his full growth spurt yet though. Right now he's about 5'8, but I think someday he'll catch up to his dad's 6'3 height. He really hopes so anyway.

Matt has always been in incredibly good shape, though. He's just naturally really athletic. He was one of those weird sixth graders with a six-pack. Well, more like a four-pack, but he's obtained a full six-pack by now. But he's not overly muscular either, he's just, I don't know,- toned, I guess. You'd think he'd be satisfied with that. But Matt doesn't like to be discounted as a football player because of his size. Or anything else really.

"Don't get too big or you won't be able to run under everyone's legs."

"Haha," Matt says dryly.

I guess I should mention that Matt's a running back and what he lacks in muscle he makes up for with speed. He's so fast, you wouldn't even believe it. Not just fast, but quick, too. He dodges players before they even think to try to get him.

"I'm serious Matt," I say and take the bag of chips. He gives me a look, but I don't give them back. "Don't overdo it. And stop referring to your dad as just Dad. He's not my dad you know."

"My dad, sorry. Can I have my chips back?"

"No, they're mine now." I hide them behind my back, not that Matt didn't see me do it or anything.

"Kiersten," Matt warns. "Come on, you don't mess with a man's chips."

"Well, it's a good thing you're just a boy and not a man then."

"You just pissed off the wrong person, Kiersten Shultz."

Before he can do anything, I pull his glasses off his face. Matt needs his glasses. He wears them 24/7, because he's basically blind without them. I swear, he even showers with them on. The only time he doesn't wear them is when he's playing. This is actually maybe the second time since I've known him that I've seen him without his glasses. He had them even when we first met when we were only six. He looks so different. His brown eyes jump out a little, now that they don't have to hide behind the reflection from his glasses. They look bigger, but somehow smaller at the same time if that makes any sense.

"Hey," he says, his eyes squinting already. "You know I'm as blind as a bat without my glasses."

"Yeah," I say, and jump up away from him and twirl them in my hand "Why do you think I took them?"

"You don't fight fair," he says.

"Tell me I'm right."

"About what?"

"I just want to hear you say that I'm right and you're wrong."

"Yeah right," he says with a laugh. "I'd rather be blind."

Matt turns away from me, looking out to a lawn that's probably just a blurry yellow blob to him. We really should take better care of our lawn.

We don't say anything more and I'm left to play with Matt's glasses. In another few seconds, I'll have to admit that Matt will never say he's wrong. That he really would rather be blind. But for now, I'm just gonna let him sweat it out for a bit. I find that bag of chips and start walking away as I munch on them.

"Are those my chips?"

"Nope," I crunch a couple more knowing that it's driving Matt crazy. But not crazy enough to admit anything.

"Fine, Matt, you've won again." I walk back towards him and hand him his chips and his glasses. He puts them happily back on his face with a satisfied smile.