Katie woke up early the next morning.  For a moment she lay in bed, wondering why she was filled with such a sense of expectation. Then she remembered:  the boy. Leaping out of bed, Katie splashed cold water on her face, ran a comb through her straight brown hair, and dressed.  She hurried downstairs for breakfast, anxious for it to be over so it would be sweeping time and she could stand by the window and watch the children going to school.

     “Hungry today, aren’t you?” her mother said. Katie was suddenly aware of how fast she was eating.  She wasn’t especially hungry; the mushrooms didn’t taste particularly good, nor did the roots, and she never wanted more than one bowlful. But if she said no, her mother would wonder why she was eating so quickly. So she nodded briefly and began to eat more slowly

    The rain was now coming down in torrents. Few children were outside today. Katie saw two little girls running together, then one boy – but not the boy – running after them. Time passed, and just as Katie was beginning to give up hope, there he was. Today he had a bright green and white umbrella and was trudging along, deliberately stepping in puddles, kicking at the muddy water. Katie watched him intently and sure enough, just as he was passing her window he looked towards her – and waved! He was definitely waving to her, and he had been looking out for her too! He stood there a moment, twirling the umbrella which he held in front of him like a shield, the rain pelting down on his head. Then to her astonishment, he beckoned to her and when she merely stared back at him, he smiled and mouthed something. For a moment, Katie feared he might be saying something rude, but the look on his face was so open and friendly she found herself moving towards the door. Just as she was about to open it, however, her mother came into the room.

     “Who is at the door?” she demanded.  Katie stared back at her dully, and her mother repeated the question.

     “No one,” she answered, flustered.  She could still just see the boy out of the corner of her eye; he had given up and was walking away now. Her mother stood there, staring at her. Katie could almost have sworn she was sniffing the air.

     “Finish your sweeping, then,” said her mother. Katie picked up her broom and her mother went over to the window and peered out as if she were looking for someone, but the boy was now out of view.  For the longest time her mother stood there staring out of the window, as if she were hoping to see something.  Katie felt a stab of irritation: she had scared the boy away!

     Katie found that the weekend could not pass quickly enough. On Monday, she kept a lookout for the boy, but did not see him. On Tuesday and Wednesday too she waited in vain, and by Thursday she had almost given up hope.  She stood by the window, ready to begin whisking her broom around the minute her mother showed her face at the door.

   And suddenly, there he was. This time he waved, then walked right up to their gate and waited. Katie hesitated only for a moment. She knew her mother was still washing up; she could hear her rattling about in the kitchen. The boy was earlier than usual this morning. She opened the door and ran outside.

    The boy stood at the gate. Katie was suddenly overwhelmed by embarrassment and indecision. What should she say?

    “Hi” the boy said. “You don’t go to school, do you?”

    “No” said Katie, and to her embarrassment, it came out in the tiniest whisper.

    “So, does your mom home-school you?” he asked. Katie stared at him.

    The boy continued. “My mom used to home-school me, then she and my dad split up and she went back to work, so now I go to school.  You’re lucky, I wish I didn’t have to go to school. What’s your name?”

    This time Katie had an answer, and her voice came out a little better. But no sooner had she told him her name than she heard her mother calling her. She looked at the boy again, desperately wishing she could think of something to ask him. Then it came to her:  ask his name.  So she did.  The boy smiled. “I'm Brian."

     “Oh” said Katie, stupidly, and she turned and ran back into the house, leaving Brian standing there at the gate, staring after her.

    That day, as she worked in the garden, Katie could think only of meeting and talking to the boy:  Brian, he was called. Her mother had spoken to her very sharply:  What were you doing? Who were you talking to? Why did you go out of the house?  Katie had not been able to look her in the eye. Why had she gone outside and talked to the boy? Because she had wanted to:  it was as simple as that. She had wanted to talk to someone, anyone. Her mother was perfectly content to live in almost total silence, speaking only when it was absolutely necessary. But Katie longed to talk.  Not just to say I put the basket in the kitchen, or Are these clothes dry enough, do you think?  Katie thought of the children racing down the street to school. All talking, laughing, making noise.  Nothing they said seemed to be particularly important; they were talking because it was fun.  That was what made her mother different, Katie suddenly realized. She almost never talked.