The first time I went to the St. Hemling School for the Deaf and Blind was September of the dreaded second grade. There were multiple things that I didn't like about St. Hemling; and it wasn't just because I didn't like school or work in general. For starters, it was a good hour and a half drive away from my bungalow which meant that I had to rise at unimaginably early hours in the morning. The entrance smelt like manure eternally and the uniforms had an itchy pant tag that gave me rashes. When I walked in through the heavy oak wood doors there was a compilation of a million nylon sleeves swishing together - those were for the deaf, they communicated through swishing and hand movements of some sort. And then, my mom directed me into the corner where all the other blind and prepubescent children were waiting, talking, and laughing.

        "Be good Finn. Today is orientation so I'll be back in a good hour or so. Remember to be..."

        "...respectful, joyful, and not a BIG FAT HANDFUL!" I screamed with all my might. The blind ones quieted down but the deaf kept swishing.

        "Now, that is what happens when you become a big fat handful, Finnegan. Okay. Love you." She kissed the top of my head and ruffled my hair. I had really long hair, so the tips tickled my eyes and I had to swipe them away.

It occurred to me later on that my parents' motivation to send me to St. Hemling was to get me out of the house and fitting in with the other kids. Maybe, they thought, maybe if Finnegan hung out with people like himself, then he would feel better. He wouldn't stay inside and listen to the T.V anymore or sit on the porch and break twigs. The result was quite on the contrary, it didn't make me feel better, it made me feel worse even. Because I was a puzzle piece that didn't fit in any kind of puzzle, everyone else had their jutted out side and caving in sides but I stood there like a perfectly non-harmed square. A square.

        "Hello. My name is Marybeth." A little voice peeped over at me, and I turned towards it.

        "The names were so nice that she had to name it twice," I mumbled, but then inhaled sharply in shock of what I had just said.   

        "What?" Marybeth asked me, confused.

        "I'm sorry, I didn't think. My name's Finnegan."

        "Are you new?"

        "Um, yes," I answered gingerly.

        "I'm not new."

        "Why?"

        "Because I was here last year."

        "Do they have ice-cream here?"

        "You have to buy it. With your own money!" She exclaimed like it was the most shocking thing. Tidbits of her spit flew onto my cheek and I wiped it off.

        "I have twenty-five dollars and fifteen cents."

        "I have twenty-seven dollars and fifty cents." Marybeth had topped me again.

What I learned from St. Hemling in the first week I spent was that sometimes people remember the bad things but toss away the good like a sack of rotten potatoes. There was a possibility that people were just downright pessimistic and negative, and never grateful either. For example I remember all the times people have walked away from me with their dragging feet more clearly than I remember people laughing and complimenting me on my cane-walking skills (which I admit, I suck at more than anything). Truly, the good things have to be good. Obviously there's good things that happen in life, like when you get a truckload of presents for your birthday, or when everything goes accordingly. Or even when someone finally accepts you for who you are and it's kind of like a huge chunk of useless 'you' has been ripped off in a non-violent fashion, and you're lighter and maybe even more yourself.

And throughout the rest of the first day it was just Marybeth, her friend Amie, and I, playing in the toy room with the other kids as the teachers tried to get our attention. I have to admit, going to St. Hemling was not all terrible, because people didn't judge as much there and I could feel the useless part of me getting ripped off. We would talk normally to each other because no one could see (except the teachers, of course) and if no one could see then no one doubted you. I was surrounded by groups and groups of squares that fit together in perfect harmony - yet at the moment I was a triangle.

-----/////-----

That next (and rather good) Saturday the snow was still falling heavily; once I stepped foot outside, my jeans were soaked to the very top of my kneecap and the soft snow stung my face with every flake that fell on me. My parents had resorted to staying home and basically ditching their accountant meeting (where they learned to be a good accountant), but the good part was that Barry couldn't make it over either.

        "Finn, bud, come help me with the dishes!" Dad's voice boomed over to the kitchen table, where I was sitting and trying to decipher braille metaphors.

        "Sure, but don't call me bud, I'm not five."

        "You'll always be five to me, Finn."

I rushed over to the sink, my socks sliding smoothly across the ground. It was the third pair of socks that I'd gone through, considering I had to help with the shovelling and I accidentally fell into the snow.

        "Dad, what time is it?"

        "10:56." My heart dropped into my stomach but then I realized that there was still some time before Orenda would arrive. The problem was that I was doubting if she would even come.

        "Right! I forgot to tell you," he passed a wet plate to me and I dried it, "you remember the Castellanos, right? Orenda? They moved back recently and I've heard from Orenda's mom that you guys are getting along." I could tell that he hadn't shaved in a while because his voice sounded a little more gruff than usual, and for some reason that only happened when he didn't shave.

        "Getting along?"

        "In a friendly way."

        "Oh, right. Yeah, duh, dad. Who would possibly like me?"

        "That's quite an insult to me because I believe that you inherited my good looks."

        "Sorry to burst your bubble, but even though I can't see I can sense that those genes weren't the good ones." 

        "Take that back!" Dad shouted jokingly and splashed a large amount of water on my new Orenda-fied glasses. He had found out about them when I came back the other day, but I didn't tell him they were from Orenda. It felt like those glasses were some sort of connecting object between her and I, because that's the moment she acted like she truly cared about me. That was the day we sat on the cold, cold snow and talked about everything we wanted to talk about and surprisingly there was no barrier between us then; we weren't pretending to be people we were not.

My day consisted of extra math and braille assignments that Barry and my mom had teamed up on doing, shovelling snow as best I could, and waiting in my room at 1 o'clock for Orenda to fly through the window.

        "Hey Finn!" She said rather loudly as she tumbled through at the strike of one, then proceeded to slamming the window even louder.

        "Shh! And hi, Ms. Nefelibata." 

        She guffawed but then quieted down and asked, "what's wrong?"

        "My parents are home today. They can't know you're here." I whispered.

        "Oh, is it the snow?"

        "Yeah." 

She walked up to me and straightened my glasses carefully, her flowery scent making me smile. I sat there on my bed while she sat on the chair and I waited, waited and waited for her to ask me, "where are we going today, Finn?" but she didn't say that. Instead, she gave a short laugh and said, "why are you just sitting there and smiling?"

        "I'm smiling?"

        "Um, yes, looks like so."

        "Oh. Sorry." I forced the corners of my mouth downwards.

It was silent again.

        "You don't have to stop smiling, Finn. I was just asking."

        "I don't particularly know if I'm smiling or not. I just do, I guess."

        "Ah, well. I like your smile, so don't be afraid to do it again."

I smiled.

        "Okay, so the craziest thing happened the other day! I hope you don't mind all the girl talk and gossip that's soon going to leak out from my mouth."

        "I'm used to it, my mom rants about her clients or whatever they're called."

        She laughed and started tapping my knee rhythmically. "So I moved right? And now I'm going to a completely different school, right?"

        "You don't have to say 'right' after every question," I teased.

        "Wow. Okay. Anyway, there was this dude in my kindergarten class that had a deviant habit of sticking his dirty finger into other's mouths, and guess what? He lives in the same cul-de-sac I live in now and he freaking remembers me! Like, he actually called me by my name and asked me how Saskatchewan was - like he knew it the whole time and it made me very happy. Does it make you happy when people remember little things about you in a non-stalkerish way? It makes me feel so important and just lights my whole world up, I love it."

I kind of just sat there, and the first thing that crossed my mind was why on earth he would stick his fingers in other's mouths but that was a mystery I could not solve. 

        "So then, okay, I asked him if people in my old class still talked to him and he said yes, he said that Cammy (who was one of my best friends) still remembers me and that really made me happy too. I like to be remembered, Finnegan. I've realized that just this week."

        "Don't we all?" I wanted her to keep talking because it was especially cute when her words bursted every once in a while like her usual bubbliness, I guess. Everything she said was rhythmic and it was fun to listen to her be so happy - Orenda May was the kind of person to let you hear 'happy' so clearly it hurt your heart.        

        "Well, yeah. Anyway, I have to go Mr. Finn. See you."

        "What? Already?"

        "You want me to stay for longer?"

        "Well, no. I mean, yes. I mean, of course. I'm get bored in here, you know."

        "I still have to go." She grabbed my hand and guided me over to the window. I was befuddled for only a slight second until I noticed what she was trying to do.

        "You want me to go with you?" I asked, and her hand kind of slipped away, but I grabbed onto it tighter because I didn't want to let go, not quite yet.

        "Psh, where else you going to go Finn? You've admitted that your life is boring and that must mean that you are in dangerous need of some of your beloved tiramisu cake."

I stopped breathing and the room fell silent, and that was long enough for me to hear my dad making a call and my mom's fingers drumming against the keyboard in the office. A million things swirled in my head about the ways they would find out that I'd left and how they could punish me, but there was only a slight chance that they would even bother checking on me. I sighed and said, "I do want some tiramisu, Orenda."

-----/////-----

It was extremely obvious that I would need a fourth pair of socks once I jumped out the window (I didn't fall that time) but the sun was beaming down on me with so much force that I could've just been roasted alive right then and there. Orenda's hand was warmer than mine for once, but maybe it was because I was squeezing it so tight that it cut off her blood circulation or something. A car honked across the street and I could hear the little kids making snowmen, the crunching of snow and the thudding of putting it together was all too familiar to me.

        Snow was always scary, though. A blessing and a curse, some might say. When Egan first moved to the little nook I resided in within the town of Markham there was a little girl that would always run over to my driveway and try to play with us, thrashing her stuffed animal around in our faces and laughing her head off everytime I even opened my mouth to say something. Egan thought she (her name was Apple) was annoying, which is fair to say, because that first winter we hardly even had any time to ourselves and the simple games were out of the question. "Let Apple play with you!" my mom said. "Make sure Apple is safe!" Egan's mom said.

        So we did just that. We let Apple (we eventually called her Appy) play with us on every occasion and she fit into our little group like an apple on an apple tree. She always had this habit of saying, "you betcha!" which is probably because she came from a minuscule town somewhere in Wisconsin and was uncivilized in many ways. For example she would pull down her pants when she got excited; making Egan try to cover his eyes and not really affecting me at all. Appy also liked to bite twigs. But the most terrible thing she didn't know what to do was to watch for huge Range Rovers going 100 kilometres an hour down the road at the edge of our neighbourhood, which was the place that adults always forbade us to go to in the slippery winter days. Appy went.

I shuddered at the memory and held Orenda's hand even tighter, and I could hear her turning her head over to look at me. 

        "You alright?" She asked, her fingers squirming against mine and I eventually loosened my grip.

        "Please be careful on the road, I forgot my cane."

Orenda didn't make a sound as we continued walking to the bakery. I could feel the salt crunching underneath my soggy shoes, and each step made me feel a little bit better because I knew that I wouldn't be slipping on any dangerous ice sooner or later, and neither would Orenda.

        "Right now is a really good time to go to the bakery, you know why?" She asked me, swinging my arm.

        "Why?"

        "Because we have very little people around his time of day - so my parents can take a break and maybe chat with you and catch up!" She stopped swinging. "Is that okay with you?"

        "Yeah, I'm completely fine with it."

        "Good, they don't bite or spit, so no need to be so tense." My face heated up and I relaxed my muscles, then walked into the bakery once again.

Orenda was completely right about the bakery being less busy, the amount of chatter and clattering of plates was dimmed down to the very bottom. A few newspaper rustles and quiet fork scraping was to be heard and it was the comforting kind of noise. I sat down on the same comfortable chairs and Orenda sighed. "Did you know that when you smile, your nose scrunches up slightly and it reminds me of when you were eating my mom's pasta or linguine or something - my God Finn you were so hungry."

        "It was lasagna and it was really good. Is the nose thing bad?"

        "No! It's cute, like a rabbit. Rabbits are cute."

I tried to control my breathing as I registered what she had said to me. At that moment Mrs. Castellano walked over and said to me, "hello!"

        "Oh, hi," I elongated my words because I wasn't sure who it was.

        "It's my mom. Mom, this is Finnegan Annson? Remember him? You, dad and the I we were really good friends with the Annsons before we moved."

        "I remember!" Mrs. Castellano still had her wondrous Italian accent and she still sounded like the nicest person alive. "Finn, how's everything?"

        "Everything is great, Mrs. Castellano. What about you?"

        "It's hectic around here, I must admit." She grunted and sat down beside me, and I noticed where Orenda got her flowery smell from. Her mom smelt just like her and it was the comforting kind of smell too. I could hear her give Orenda a hug. "You feeling alright honey? How's yo-" Mrs. Castellano said to Orenda but she quickly cut her off and directed the attention to me. I fiddled with my jacket buttons, maliciously prying them off and then forcing them on again. "Did you see the cherry blossoms around here last spring? Oh my, I think those were the most beautiful ones yet! Absolutely elysian, right Orenda?" Orenda chuckled nervously.

        I sat there and said, "they were." My heart was beating way too fast for my scrawny body to handle, but Mrs. Castellano kept talking.

        "And then they floated to the ground like feathers - that's what my sister told me, she lives around here. The pink was brilliant, too. I'm truly very happy to be back, hopefully we can get in touch with your parents soon, Finnegan. Maybe go see some of those cherry blossoms? Excuse me, there's a customer." She rubbed my arm comfortingly and then ran off to take another order.

My hands were shaking because of all the things we was throwing onto me and it broke me inside that I COULDN'T see those brilliant cherry blossoms and no I COULDN'T see Orenda's face in my entire existence. And even though it could've been because she wasn't thinking enough (and that's fair) or that she forgot I was blind (that's fair) or that she was in a rush (that's fair) but it crushed me nevertheless. I think Orenda noticed that because she grabbed my hand the way people grab hands when they want to help you smile, not to keep you near and we left that bakery and into the stinging winter air.

I didn't talk for the rest of the way and neither did she, and I couldn't help but wonder if Orenda knew how I felt.        

        "I'm so sorry Finn. Sometimes my mom's very straightforward and extroverted, I'm sorry."

        "Don't be, I don't care that much."

        "Finnegan! Stop that!" Her voice was suddenly filled with rage and I backed away from her.

        "Stop what?"

        "Stop acting like you don't care. I'm dead serious."

        "I do-"

        "Finn, stop." We reached my window but Orenda just pulled me down to sit beside her on the cold snow and it soaked through my jeans and my skin, but cleared my mind at the same time.

        "I want to be a normal puzzle piece." I admitted. She cleared her throat.

        "What?"

        "I don't want to be a square, I want to have the jagged edges and the caved in ones, I want to be the same and I'm tired of people being scared to speak about the beauties of the world around me just because I'm a square."

        "Finn, do you know why my mom likes those pink cherry blossoms so much? She used to walk underneath them and catch the petals in her hair, then pick the most beautiful one. She couldn't pick, though! They were all so splendiferous and so extravagant and all so different that there was no 'most beautiful'. To hell with the 'most beautiful'! I'll tell you what's so great, those petals were some smart petals that didn't care if the others were better because when winter comes and all of them die and go into the ground, new ones will appear and they won't freaking care which ones were the most beautiful, they only care if they made it to the grass and said to the new buds, 'live your life and love your life, because it could be gone with something as simple as a gust of wind.'"

        "I like it when you lecture me, Orenda. Thank you." I stuck my finger in the snow and twirled it around, my finger getting numb, but I didn't really care.

        "Hey, no problem. That was fun, actually."

        "What does pink look like anyway?"

        "Well, it's a sweet kind of colour. Has a little girl ever came up to you and said the sweetest thing? Ever eaten bubblegum ice-cream? Man, those are good. That's pink. Or like playing with balloons at a birthday party or even something as simple as getting wrapped up in a warm blanket. Whenever you eat a strawberry flavoured lollipop, that's pink. Or love. Love's pink to me. Like a warm hug, or a soft kiss, or even a loving, 'have fun at school.'"

        "I've never experienced a kiss before," I muttered.

        "I have, but I was pretty sure it was a dog and I was five." She laughed and so did I. "I sure do wonder what it's like to experience something like that with a human being."

        "It'll always be a mystery to me."

        "Hey."

        "Hi."

Then, all of a sudden her lips were against mine and I could feel her soft eyelashes against my cold cheeks; and I was wondering how on earth a guy like me could be kissed by a girl like her. Even though my butt was beginning to become numb and my hair was wet and draping down and my glasses were slipping off my frozen nose I felt a kind of warmness radiating from her lips and onto mine. I didn't even care that I never got a bite of Mrs. Castellano's delicious tiramisu. I smiled but then she pulled away quickly, and started laughing.

        "Sorry. I wanted to see pink, that's all." Orenda said, her voice suddenly more tranquil that it had been for the entire day.

        "Was it an accident?" I blurted out.

        "What?"

        "I'm sorry. Um, like, uh... why um, I don't know. Was I supposed to lean back, like, did you fall on me? Was that not supposed to happen?"

        She burst into an uncontrollable amount of laughter and leaned on me so hard that I keeled over and landed in the snow, bending my glasses. I turned over onto my back and she lay down beside me in the cold and we just stayed there and laughed. We laughed and laughed and laughed until my stomach started hurting and my breath became short but I kept laughing nonetheless. But when Orenda threw an ice cold snowball at my face and apologized, then straightened my glasses and laughed - a laugh full of pink - I was still a square at that moment, but no, I fit right into this world because I finally found where I belonged and the puzzle was finished.