The weird thing about Orenda May Castellano was that she only ever visited me on Saturdays at 1 PM. Without fail, that is.

        The first time I heard the tapping on my window, it freaked me out to a certain extent. Well actually, I was insanely scared. It was almost like the time when Egan and I were walking in the park (going for a stroll, I guess, like any teenage boys do) and crazy squirrels started chasing us around, until Egan, being the genius he was, took my cane and started swatting them away like flies as I stood there blindly. Literally. Yes, I was almost as scared.

My braille tutor had just left to go home and spend his braille-filled days making me more homework, and my parents had left to go for their meeting they went to every Saturday, so it was just me and my boring braille assignment that was supposed to keep me occupied and using brain power or something stupid like that.

My fingers traced along the rough and bumpy surface, the entire room quiet and still. I liked the quiet, much more than I liked the noise. The sound of constant voices would swirl around me and basically beat me up inside, a bit like my mom's potato salad. I heard so much, too much for my brain to handle.

        I was just about to flip to the next page when I heard it. Slowly, I maneuvered my way around all the crap I had thrown on the floor, and reached the window. The tapping intensified, and eventually my fingers started fiddling with the lock on the window as I breathed evenly, trying not to potentially pass out of fear. When the latch opened, I backed away and bumped into my bed.

        "Finnegan! I was afraid it was the wrong house!" I realized it was her right away. She was the only person idiotic and brave enough to climb over a bush and up a low wall into a blind boy's room. She turned on the light, and a bright flash hit me.Since my house was a one-story house, I guess Orenda figured she could just climb through the window every Saturday instead of barging through the front door and making a huge ruckus.       

        "Orenda?" I asked tentatively.

        "It's me." She answered. My heart started beating faster just by hearing her speak - a terribly bad case of infatuation. I thought about what I would say to her for years on end, but once she actually spoke to me on that cold January afternoon, I was stuck; my mind was stuttering, not just my words. 

        "Hi." I said simply.

        "Hey. We've moved back to a neighbourhood right next to here, and I thought I should come by." Every syllable struck me harder and harder.

        "Okay." I mumbled.

        "We played for six hours straight, you remember that?" She walked closer to me, and I reached out slowly, making sure I knew how far away she was. Suddenly, her hand was on my arm, and I flinched. "Sorry," Orenda said, backing away. She inhaled and continued, "I like your glasses, by the way."

        "I know they look weird, so just say it." I stood up and backed away from my bed.

        "They look crazy weird." She plopped herself onto my desk chair like it was her very own house, and not a room that her one-time playdate just happened to be in, reading a boring book about boring people going on useless adventures.

It was awkward, almost cringe-worthy. I bet she thought that too.

        "Well, it was nice to see you again." She sighed, and I heard the window open.

        "To see me... Uh, yeah. It was." I walked over to the window and listened to it slide down and eventually close.

        "Bye, Finnegan!" I heard her voice say on the other side of the glass, and I smiled.

        "Bye, Orenda." I opened the window again, wanting to ask her one more question, wanting to hear her voice one more time, but she was gone, just like that.

——-/////——-

After her second visit, I realized that this was a regular thing. It was like her mere existence depended upon visiting me at 1 PM on Saturdays. And God forbid it be 1:01 PM or 12:59 PM, because she definitely wouldn't be there. But, she always came, like it was a ritual. She'd be there right after my Braille lessons with Barry, which consisted of him talking for hours on end and me saying "yep" every few seconds, acknowledging that I'd heard his fast-talking, spit-flying, always-mumbling words until he gave me my homework and left with a bang. 

        And that's when I'd run to my room, and proceed to clicking the button on top of my alarm clock to hear the voice say, "it is twelve-forty-five PM," which meant that she'd be here soon. That was all my week was really; a continuous cycle of the weekdays and then Orenda, weekdays and then Orenda, weekdays and then finally Orenda. Saturday always meant that I would hear that tap tap tap sound on my window that soon became so familiar and Orenda would climb through the window with as little noise as possible, a bit like a feather. Her socks would land on the carpet oh so gently and then she would sit on my hard plastic desk chair and I would sit on my bed.

        She would say, "Hi."  

        I would say, "Hey."

        "Hi."

        "Hey."

        "Hi."

        "Hey."

        "Hi."

        "Hey."

And it would go on. We never said anything, because there was nothing to say. Strangely, it wasn't awkward or weird, it was just us. Nevertheless, I wanted to know her more. I didn't want her to pretend around me, which strangely, was what I was doing around her. Maybe we were afraid that we were too weird or too different or that this whole thing was just a huge awkward fifteen year-old mess. I wanted to hear what she loved, what she hated, if she believes that life is hard or if she is just breezing through it.

        But all we did was say hi, and then we'd said hey, and we continued saying that and listening to the sounds outside until one of us had to leave. And usually it was Orenda, since we would be in my room and not hers.

——-/////——-

On one particular Saturday, something changed. I still had my Braille lesson, I still had my boring reading assignments, and my parents still went to their meeting (it was a meeting about their job, as accountant people) and I still ran to my room, then heard my alarm clock say, "it is twelve-forty-five PM," and then I sat down on my bed after unlocking the window.

        Orenda still came, tumbling in like some sort of ninja, but this time she didn't say hi. She didn't say anything. She just sprinted towards me, held onto my shoulders, and started crying.

And I didn't know what to do with a crying girl. Egan always told me that if a girl cried in front of me, to just walk away and maybe hit up her best friend and tell them that their friend was in distress. But, he said that I should never ever ever try and make the girl feel better, because apparently it just doesn't work.

But she was Orenda, and she was crying so hard that I could feel her shaking, and all I could do was stay still and let her cry on my shoulder. Her tears stained my shirt and her short hair brushed against my cheek, while I stayed completely still, questioning my safety and practically the whole world.

        "Hi, Finnegan," she finally said, after her tears subsided.

        "Hey," I answered again, keeping up with the norm.

        "Hi."

I didn't say 'hey' to her that time. Instead I said, "look, this is weird. We've been saying 'hi' and 'hey' to each other for weeks."

         "I know." She sniffed and her warmth left me.

         "Why are you crying?" I decided not to listen to Egan's advice.

That only made her cry more. She sat back on my desk chair and said, "let's do this thing my mom taught me. Okay? We set a time – ten minutes, maybe – and we talk without feelings. You get me? Like, take down your shield and just let me shoot arrows at you. Not literally, I mean, because I could stand one centimetre away from you and I would miss. I'm not Legolas, unfortunately."

        I laughed and said, "sure." She was finally returning, the old Orenda was sneaking her way through.

        "Alright. I'll go. It's one-ten right now, so we have until one-twenty."

        "I'm listening." My voice got all raspy, but I don't think she heard.

        "You want to know why I came here in the first place? It's because I feel like you're the only person that could ever understand me. I hope I don't sound like a complete brat, but it's easier to talk to blind people than non-blind people, believe it or not. It's just, you won't judge me as much. I also really missed you. Why? I don't know. You were good at tag, and you didnt smell like pee, more like baby powder. Oh, and basically we moved because of my mom's bakery business, but it didn't turn out well and now she's here, so alas, I am here, and I am speaking to you."

        "I'm going to sound like a serious creep right now, but apparently I'm not supposed to have feelings so I guess I don't care. My friend Egan told me that you're my wonderwall after I spilled my sixth-grade feelings to him. But, I actually didn't need him to tell me that because I was utterly obsessed with you for years on end, and maybe it's just my supernatural memory skills or that I started liking girls at age six and I never really got to the cootie stage. And the first time you came and tapped me on the shoulder I kind of freaked out, because (a) you were my wonderwall, and (b) I missed you immensely and finally (c) I didn't want Egan to take you for himself. I also thought we would consenescere. So, I was a complete wreck."

        "It's weird that you still find me captivating, because I think I changed. It's just, well, the baking business does stuff to you. Rabid monsters, they are."

        "I've always wanted to be in a baking business, but it would be hard for me."

        "Why?"

        "We both know why."

        "Tell me about yourself." She said, the shakiness in her voice going away.

        "Well, first of all, call me Finn. Not Finnegan. For my friend's sanity. I don't know much about myself, other than the fact that I've been blind my whole life. Which I think is what sets me apart from other people. I don't go to school, because sight is really important. Surprise, eh? My days are boring, mostly braille and listening to other people speak. I wish I had more to say, but I don't. What about you?"

        "People call me an introvert. Wallflower, maybe. Probably because I'd rather spend a year cooped up in my room and reading books than go to one single party. Sad? I think not. I'd like to think of myself as a nefelibata, which is what everyone else thinks I am."

        "Nefelibatas are the best kind of people, really." I wasn't joking. I was too boring to be one, so they're awesome by default.

        "You're just too nice, Finnega – I mean, Finn."

        "Why were you crying?" I changed the subject.

        She fell silent for a while, and finally said, "We're out of time." 

Orenda went and pressed the button on top of my alarm clock (how she knew, I don't know) and it said, "it is one-twenty-one PM." Nothing happened until I felt the cold wind blowing through the window as she hopped out.

           "Wait!" I shouted after her, sticking my head out of the window. It reminded me about those nights I would wish for her to come back, and miraculously, she did.

          "I'M WAVING AT YOU!" She shouted and I smiled so hard that my cheeks were hurting.

         "STOP SHOUTING!" I shouted back, and she ran down the streets, her steps slowly fading away with the sound of her laughter.