Growing Panes

9 year-old June Bugala moves to Cardinal Valley, NC and finds her next door neighbor, a boy her age very interesting. Through their middle school and high school years she watches him grow up with her through a very interesting vantage point: their neighboring windows.

Written by: Chance Brown

The first thing nine-year-old June noticed about her brand new bedroom was the huge window.

Now, to a nine-year-old many things are huge: cars, dogs, even daddy’s wallet, however, in reality most of them are not that big at all.

This was not one of those times; June had a huge window.

The glass stretched almost from floor to ceiling with two feet of wall above or below it. It spanned four feet and three inches across and it peered directly from June's second story bedroom window into the second story bedroom window of the house next door. That was the second thing she noticed.

He was the third thing she noticed.

He was the boy who lived in the second story bedroom, of the house next door, which was directly parallel with the huge window, in the second story bedroom, of the brand new house that June just moved into.

His bedroom light stayed on too late for any normal nine-year-old. June would watch him throughout the night. His shadows would shift against the light shining into her room and she could tell he was moving. She never closed her blinds, she didn’t want to, and sometimes she would watch him. He would always sit at his desk, hunched over and working hard at something. Sometimes even until after her mommy and daddy had gone to sleep, and she would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, wondering what he was doing.

His name was Alex, she met him on her third morning; they were waiting at the bus stop together. He was shy, wore pants that were a few inches too short, and jumped whenever she spoke to him, but he was just as smart as she was, and they both were in the sixth grade class while all the other nine year old were still in fourth and fifth grade. Every day, after school, she would invite him to play but he would always decline, go to his room covered in Cartoon posters, robot models, and drawing materials.

She would go to her room, and when she played with her dolls and had tea parties, she would open her window and tell him all about them. He would explain what each robot model did as she stared into his sanctuary from her window, and she would tell him all her stuffed animals’ names and even about how Mr. Bunnysworth had a crush on Ms. Pigglesdoodle.

When they hit junior high, his models moved to the top of a dresser to make room for posters of Nelly and Tupac, even one of 3LW. (The short-lived teenage version of TLC.) He didn't sit in his room all day, instead he went down the street with Reggie and Almond, Eighth graders to play basketball and say mean things to girls. She still never closed her window, but she didn’t see him there as much anymore. Even so, she had started piano and never got home until after dinnertime anyway. However, every night he would come home, sit at his same desk, and scribble something on paper. Sometimes his hand moved furiously against the paper, and other times it was slow. He was still up all night, long after she had gone to sleep, and next to his desk every morning before school she’d always see a small mountain of crumpled paper overflowing the wastebasket.

When they became freshman, the posters on his walls changed to Mariah Carey and Janet Jackson, his models had been shoved into a closet, and a large stereo decorated the top of his drawing desk. His pants were not only long enough, but designer and his closet was color coordinated with more shoes than any guy needed. He was on the basketball team, so they never rode the bus together anymore, but when he'd get home from school he'd open his window and call her name, just to see what she was up to. Sometimes they'd talk through the window, never about anything important, they weren't all that close, but they weren’t that far either.

In tenth grade she noticed that his basketball training was paying off, and every night when he'd get ready for bed she'd look up from her homework (her desk was situated in front of the window) in order to get a peek at his chest and all six of his abs. He also began to do something he had never done before: shut his blinds. She realized why one day when she went to the window to see what he was up to and saw him on his bed making out with Ashley S., the cheer captain. She didn’t know how long she stared at the two, but when they noticed she was there Alex just scratched the back of his head and laughed, closing the blinds and vowing to talk to her later; Ashley looked disgusted.

Sometimes, when she was changing, she'd "forget" to close her blinds, she knew that he noticed, but she would strip down to her underwear and then "remember" that she should close the blinds. The next day at school he'd always stare at her a little harder; she liked that.

On warm nights he'd open his window to let in a little breeze; she'd told him about that trick, and sometimes, she'd hear loud rustling in his room. When she looked, she'd see him moving his stereo and pulling out his sketch notebook. When he was focused on drawing he didn't even realized she watched him for hours. Sometimes, she'd fall asleep and wake up in the middle of the night to see the light from his bedroom flowing into her room still. She liked that feeling too.

In their senior year, they'd go back and forth about colleges: she'd hold her laptop up to the window to show him the websites for all girls private schools: Spelman, Brookmont, Ashle. He'd put his choice schools on his television screen for her to see: Morehouse, Brown, Morris. In the end they both decided to stay close and go to Cardinal Valley University. Of course she hadn't chosen it because he was going there, it was just a great school, and close to home.

She watched him move out to go to his dorm. It was the same day she was leaving too, and their parents had spent much of the morning comparing their "babies". June sat on her bed, her room surprisingly full for someone who was moving out. She watched him make trips up and down with various trinkets in awe. She couldn't believe it; after all this time she was finally going to college. She was really excited, but there was something she didn't understand. A bad feeling hidden somewhere int eh excitement, and oh boy was there excitment. Excited to meet new people, new intellectuals who talked about social policy and change, and politics and economy. Professors who discussed and lectured instead of just reciting cookie cutter facts from a workbook. She was excited to have her own place, stay up late with the girls and eat ice cream all night while talking about parties and boys, she was even excited for the older, more mature college men with their swagger and brains; much better than high school boys.

She was excited for new food, new clothes, new surroundings, new classrooms, new computers, new textbooks, new friends, new pictures, new memories, new language, new thoughts, new ideas, new everything! What was missing?

It wasn't until she had moved in, unpacked her things, and sat on her bed the first night did she look out her window into the open and empty courtyard and realize that it was him: he was missing.