Title: Gray Hair, Purple Eyes

Chapter One: Stunning

Hi, I'm Oren and I will be your host for the duration of this story. Do you know why? Because the author is none too keen on third person and because I am conveniently gay. This story will be about a particularly windy day in spring when I met Will Westbrook, the new neighbor from across the street, and the rest you have to read for. Ready? Here we go.

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A rough gust rocked me back and forth at my favorite perch. I was in a prime position to spy on the people moving in across the street and taking advantage of it too. The new neighbors, my mom had told me, were the Westbrooks. She had described them as a nice, old couple and, I admit, she wasn't wrong. As they were too old to help with the unloading themselves, they had stopped by our house for introductions. My mom, being the neighbor that she was, had been finishing a batch of cookies to take over to them. Instead, they ate the cookies then, and my mom retrieved the emergency gelatin to give to them.

The boy I observed supervising the movers was far more interesting though. He was tall, at least six and a half feet, and his face was breathtaking. I slipped from my branch when I saw his face and landed at the base of the tree. My bottom hurt, but my eyes remained on his. He looked up at the tree I had been in and, shrugging, turned away.

As I stood I recounted to myself the details of his face and cursed for having not seen it longer. I remembered the bright shade of purple his eyes were, his gray hair, and his angular face, all edges and points, with full cheeks. Even so, I felt if I did not glimpse his face again it would be like a murky shadow lingering throughout my day.

My mom called me then from the kitchen, and I walked in through the back door, waiting patiently while she retrieved something from the refrigerator.

"Oren," she said setting a tray of brownies on the counter, "why don't you invite Will over?"

"Who?" I asked.

"The boy from across the street, honey," my mom replied with a smile.

"Is he their son?" I queried. The couple looked as if they were in their sixties, though I knew better than saying so while they were guests. The moment they left I could be candid with my thoughts, but while they remained I had to be overly civil.

"Yes, and I know what you're thinking," she said, "They're seventy, but don't mention it at all."

"I know," I said, "should I ask him over now?"

I knew the answer to this question already. The last new family on the street, the Sings, had a son my age who I had to invite over and who became my best friend. The family before them, the Glenns, had a daughter my age who had become my best friend as well.

"Of course," my mom answered, "introduce him to your friends too."

I nodded and went next door to see my best friend, Agnes Glenn, who admitted to spying the moment she opened the door. She left me standing in the doorway for a minute as she snatched her sweater up and then dragged me off.

"He looks nice," she said nonchalantly, "and he's in our grade too."

How did she know this when she was just spying, I did not know. I didn't think too much about it either as she pulled me across the street by my sleeve.

"You aren't going to be overly friendly are you?" I asked her when she stopped on the pavement in front of the Westbrook's house.

She chewed on her long, brown hair as she thought, her eyes glinted as she held her head up, and she said to me in a thick, southern drawl, "I'm not the one who thinks he's pretty am I?"

"Right," I said, "well go fetch him."

Agnes let go of my sleeve and into the large, blue house. She emerged moments later with a smiling Will, her hand in his, chattering about the great area he was blessed to be living in. I plastered a smile on my face, and following Agnes's example, locked my hand in his.

"He," she said, "is my best friend, Oren. In case you're wondering, he's gay."

I can't say I was too surprised by this. I knew I was gay, he just didn't. It was our unspoken agreement that every new neighbor our age be introduced to me in such a way. We last introduced me to James Sing, our former new best friend, so it went undeniably well.

Will looked at me when he heard and beamed his pearly whites. "Me too."

I let go of his hand, my face covered with a shocked look, and, shaking, began to skip in circles humming tunelessly.

"Don't worry about him," Agnes said when Will scooted away, "he's does that anytime something interesting happens."

"Really?" Will asked, gazing amusedly at me.

"Really," I shouted as I came to a stop in front of him.

With that I grabbed Will's arm, my eyes swelling with tears of happiness, to roughly pull him toward Agnes's house. Laughing at my antics, Agnes took his other arm and began to explain to him all about how odd I act.