4 - Kiersten

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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?" 

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