We hadn’t talked very much after the day I ran away. Something about me had changed, but I couldn’t find the words to explain so instead I said nothing.

Miss Betty wasn’t there today. In her seat sat a skinny blonde woman who kept shushing a pair of teenagers at the table next to us. Each time she hissed, I jumped.

“What’s wrong?” Evelyn repeated.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Looking at the lovebirds?”

“What?”

“Their feet have been touching since they sat down and the girl keeps giggling.”

The skinny librarian let out another hiss, which startled me so much that the book I was holding flew out of my hand and onto the floor.

As everyone turned to look, I felt myself getting hot and Evelyn leaned over to pick it up. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I stared down into my lap.

“Do you think everyone sees colors the same?” she asked.

“What?”

“Take red, for example. Do you think that what your brain tells you is red is the same as what I see?

“I don’t know.” Not once had it occurred to me that the color red might look different to someone else.

She dug through her bag until she found her pencil case. She took out a red magic marker and drew a square. “What do you see?”

“A red square.”

“I know that, Franny.” She sighed, sounding frighteningly like the hissing librarian. “I mean describe red so that I can know if it’s the same thing I see.”

“I don’t know how to describe red.”

“Is it bright?”

I nodded.

“Is it hot, loud, mad? Does it make you feel like jumping?”

“I guess.”

“Then it must be the same thing I see.” She opened her book and went back to twirling her hair. The girl behind us was talking to the boy in hushed tones. I felt warm, electric sparkles and then fiery tingles up and down my back.

Red.

I took her notepad and drew a dark black line inside the red square she had made. I filled it in; it took a long time because I forced myself to stay within the lines. Then, even though I was finished, I didn’t put down the pen.

Instead, I drew thick black lines that covered up her red, turning the sides a dark sticky brown and making it look ugly and misshapen. I colored even harder, taking the lines outside the confines of her square, wild random crazy lines that suddenly took on a life of their own, moving across the page with a confident strength that startled me so much that I stopped and pushed myself away from the table. Afterward, I sat quietly with my hands in my lap because I was not sure what they might do next.

I was relieved when Evelyn finally announced she needed to use the bathroom. We wound our way to a door with a big W painted on the outside.