Last summer, Serena and I watched through a Buzzfeed list of movies with shocking twist endings. One of them was The Butterfly Effect. While the movie, in my opinion, did not age very well, it's named after a theory that branches off of Chaos Theory that claims that everything in the universe is connected and affected. For example, the delicate flapping of a butterfly's wings from one hemisphere could create the tiniest gust of wind that picks up speed and volume as it travels, resulting in a devastating tornado in another hemisphere. Another example is how a miniscule power outage in the middle of the night in a suburb of East Lansing, Michigan, results in me jabbing myself in the eye with a drug store mascara applicator brush as the blue Prius almost collides with a student.

At some point in the wee hours of Monday morning, the power blinks in my neighborhood. So, in typical Monday fashion, my alarm clock — the kind that vibrates the bed — doesn't go off at the scheduled time because the power outage reset it. Mummy wakes me up in a huff — she'd overslept, too — and I've got fifteen minutes to be out the door and into the blue Prius. This allows me time to wash my face, brush my teeth, clothe myself, grab a granola bar from the pantry, and go. Because of this, I take the twenty minute drive through traffic to school to do my hair and make-up. Because of this, I do not see the person standing in our claimed parking spot in the designated upperclassmen lot at school. Serena jerks to a stop and my forehead hits the pull-down mirror and my mascara jabs me in the eye. The Butterfly Effect.

I shriek aloud and Serena taps me on my knee, like, six times in a row. I push up the mirror and I see Cannon. He's wearing his signature outfit of a hoodie and ripped up black skinny jeans. He's holding a coffee in one hand, the other holding on to his backpack.

I don't think that's for me, Serena tells me.

I step out of the car with the plan to get him out of our spot so Serena can park. He's prepared. "I'll only move if you promise to talk to me," he mouths.

"I'm deaf," I tell him. "I can't talk."

"You don't have to talk. Just listen."

"Can't do that either."

Cannon starts and looks behind me. I assume Serena has honked. He looks to me, eyes pleading. "Okay," I sign and mouth, "just move, please."

We walk towards the foreign language and art building. He drops his backpack on the ground outside the entrance. If we get caught loitering here, we'll be made to go to the courtyard where students are made to wait for the morning bell. Cannon hands me the coffee. I take it. I guess this is an apology? I guess he's trying to get out of trouble with his brother. I guess I'm going to let him do that. Or maybe I won't. Depends on how good his speech is.

He starts. I practiced this last night. Please wait until I'm done. He pauses. I don't sign a thing, as he'd asked. You can nod if it's okay.

I nod. He mirrors it. I can tell that he is nervous. So am I.

Earlier this month, I made a choice based on what I thought would be good for you. That wasn't fair. I never asked what you wanted. Then I ignored you until you left me alone. You were the only person that I tolerated having around, and I screwed it up. You're a good person and a good student, and you've got a bright future ahead of you. I was afraid that hanging out with me would screw that up. I still am. His hands stop, but he doesn't drop them, so I know he isn't done. They vibrate there in the space as if he isn't sure if he should say what he wants to say next.

I nod.

I'm so... G. D. lonely. I know you probably don't want to forgive me. But if you're open to the idea, I'd like for things to go back to how they were. But I'm leaving that up to you. He puts his hands down. He's finished.

I'm really quite impressed with his sign language and sentence structure. He must have worked really hard on this. He must have also gotten into trouble and had his car taken away, so now he's trying to make amends in hopes he'll earn back his freedom. I've never seen him on campus this early. It's brutal for a senior to have to take the bus.

Serena is suddenly at my side. She must have been watching from the car. Everything okay here? she asks.

Cannon gives her the non-smile.

Yeah, we're good, I tell her.

Hi, Cannon, Serena signs to him, her silent tone — her energy, if you will — rubbing it in thick that she knows everything that he's done.

He looks terrified of her. Hi. He looks back to me, less terrified but still very uncomfortable and unsure. Just think about it, okay?

O.K., I sign and he leaves us. An apology and an aching beg for me to come back to him was what I wanted deep down, right? So why do I feel so icky? Like I forced his hand? I didn't do anything wrong. I simply told the truth. Did you see all that? I ask Serena.

Every word, she assures me. You gonna forgive him?

I wanna tell her no, but I'm a sucker. Probably. But I need to decide how long I'm gonna let him stew for.

I'd take advantage of this, she tells me. We're loitering so he has a head start to the courtyard. Your relationship before was pretty much entirely advantageous to him. The ball is in your court now. When I give her a look of confusion, she elaborates. You can probably ask anything of him. He seemed pretty desperate.

At first I think this is pretty bold advice for someone like Serena, who usually reminds me to put myself in the other person's shoes and not jump to conclusions. But then I remember just last week when she went on a whole bender about how women need to start asking for more out of the people in their life and stop crowning their bosses and partners for doing the bare minimum. And then, I'm like... I haven't the slightest idea of what I want from Cannon Kane.

Merinda eyes my medium soy milk latte with cinnamon sprinkle suspiciously when I come into homeroom and greet her. Late night? she asks me.

Late morning, I tell her.

I turn in my writing on Frankenstein chapters 1-6. I don't give Cannon an answer.

On Tuesday, I come in to another latte on my desk in homeroom. I smile, but I make sure he doesn't see it. I turn in my algebra problems — workbook page sixty-one, problems one through twenty-four, odd numbers only. I don't give Cannon an answer.

Wednesday comes bearing a third latte on my desk and a scolding look from Merinda. I ace my Latin quiz and get almost all of the blanks filled in on my history study guide. I do not have an answer for Cannon.

I've been conditioned to expect a latte on Thursday morning. When I come in to an empty desk, I text Cannon the girl crossing her arms in front of her to make an X emoji and the coffee mug emoji followed by a question mark and the frowning face emoji.

         🙅🏽‍♀️☕️? ☹️

He responds in English. If your plan is to never give me an answer so that I bring you coffee every morning eventually I'm gonna run out of money

I grin in spite of being dragged for filth. I assumed that once I gave you an answer that the treats would stop.

         You know what happens when you assume.

I roll my eyes. This is an outdated phrase, but of course I know it because I live with Paul Miller. I look for a donkey emoji, and disappointed that there isn't one, I send him the peach emoji, the upwards pointing finger emoji, and the left-pointing finger emoji.

         🍑👆🏽👈🏽?

He replies with the green check mark emoji.

✅
Just let me know how many more days I'll have to butter you up for so I can budget it out

I know I have to answer him today.

I try to remember any recent times in which I asked somebody for something. I'm not a perfect person. In fact, I've been reminded time and time again how selfish I am... but I can't think of the last time I genuinely asked someone for something. I silently (pun) expect things from people without asking, I guess. I expect my mom to cook me dinner. I expected my dad to go to work to make money to pay the bills so I can have lights and water and air conditioning. I expect Serena to drive me to and from school since I don't yet feel comfortable driving myself quite yet. I expect Merinda to show up to school to translate for me every day — and now that I think about it, I can't remember the last time I had a substitute provided from the school board because Merinda called in sick or took the day off. I expect every person who comes in contact with me to make special communication-based accommodations for me because I can't hear them. And what do I give them in turn? The promise that I'll never bore them with chit chat or annoy them with gossip or gab.

And that I'll be loyal to them. I'm really freaking loyal.

         I have a few conditions, I text him when I get out of the bath, towel around my head, snuggled in my pink fuzzy blanket that my Nana got me for my birthday last year.

         Name them.

         I don't want to teach you ASL any more.

         Done.

         But condition #2 is that you still need to learn it. Because of #3.

I've been watching youtube. What's #3?

#3 is that you have to actually talk to me. All we ever talked about before was homework.

I can't talk. I'm mute

🙄
Learn ASL so that u can tell me stuff and I'll tell you stuff. Like real life people.

You can't talk though your deaf

         And I don't wanna do your homework. #4

         That was a one time thing and I won't ask you to again

         Last thing - I want to know where you go on Sundays. He doesn't respond so quickly to this request. It's the first time either one of us has made it known to the other that either of us knows what he's done. Except that I don't know. But I know that he's done something. A good few minutes pass before he answers and I wish he didn't have a stupid Android so I'd know when he was typing.

         Deal.
Friends?

This, in turn, gives me pause. Are we friends? We we ever really? Let's call it a trial basis.

         That's fair. I'm picking you up in the morning. Be ready at 7

This I wasn't expecting. I have a ride, I text him. Remember? We almost ran you over?

         Except that I'm picking you up tomorrow. 7, he insists. And then a few minutes later when I don't reply, he asks: Did you get the answer to the physics homework number one?

         Are u serious?

         Nah, jk. See u at 7, he sends. Guess that means he's getting his truck back.