The Silence Between Us Page 4

  It was a nifty piece of technology, but it had a tendency to yank me out of sleep every morning and send my heart kicking into overdrive. It was the same way I woke up every morning in New Jersey, and now in Colorado, except instead of heading off to Pratt, I was going to be on my way to another dreadful day at Engelmann. That thought alone kept my heartrate from slowing back down to normal.

  I rested my head against the car window on the way to school, focusing more on the way the bumps of the car were rattling my skull than what I was about to face on my second day of school.

  HEY, Mom signed when she parked the van at the curb outside Engelmann. YOU WILL HAVE GOOD DAY. PROMISE.

  I was very doubtful of this, but it was nice of Mom to say so anyway. I signed, SEE YOU LATER, as I unbuckled myself, blew a kiss at Connor in the backseat, and dragged myself out of the car toward school.

  Kathleen was waiting for me by the main entrance and signed, HELLO, a coffee cup in her free hand. I was one of the first to arrive in AP Statistics, happy to take my seat at the same desk as yesterday without any hassle this time. As I waited for class to start, I did a quick scan of last night’s homework, wanting to make sure I’d completed each problem correctly.

  I was checking the second to last problem when someone tapped my shoulder. I twisted around in my seat and made a face when I saw it was Beau sitting behind me again.

  “What do you want?” I said aloud.

  I had this strange desire to keep using my voice around this guy, if only to prove I was perfectly capable of talking.

  My eyes widened when Beau very carefully made the sign for sorry—a closed fist moving in a circular motion against the chest.

  There had to be some kind of ASL website open on Beau’s laptop, because in the next minute he went through a handful of signs, clearly struggling to remember the ones he wanted. I was both in awe and baffled as to why Beau would be attempting to use sign language with me. And when he accidentally used the wrong sign, I couldn’t help but bust up laughing.

  “What did . . . wrong?” Beau demanded, looking nervous.

  I made the letter “W” and tapped the three fingers to my lips. “This means water,” I said, then put my pinky up and tapped four fingers against my lips. “This means talk. You said I don’t need to water around you.”

  Beau clapped a hand over his eyes, sinking down a few inches in his chair. His embarrassment was oddly adorable. “Okay . . . credit for trying . . .”

  Maybe a little credit was due. Compared to the random strangers who liked to stop me and finger spell the whole alphabet just to show me they could, Beau had done a fairly decent job conveying his message to me.

  “If you’re trying to say you’re sorry for yesterday, I get it,” I said, hoping my voice was somewhat quiet. I could never be sure of how loud I was being. “But just . . . maybe when you’re practicing ASL online again, you can google things you’re not supposed to say to a Deaf person.”

  Beau’s cheeks had gone all kinds of pink, but he nodded, saying, “Right. Maybe I . . . look that . . . too.”

  I think I might have smiled at him before I turned back around in my seat.

  Like yesterday morning, Nina was waiting for me outside once the bell rang.

  “How are . . . this morning?” she said, all smiles.

  It was beyond me how cheery she was so early in the morning, but then again, I’d only finished half my cup of coffee at breakfast and it was hard for me to be cheery without copious amounts of caffeine.

  FINE, I signed, Kathleen standing nearby to interpret. ENOUGH HOMEWORK YESTERDAY. TIRED.

  SAME, Kathleen interpreted while Nina spoke. AND THAT BECOME WORSE FROM HERE.

  Thankfully, when we arrived in history, Mr. Wells didn’t single me out again the second I walked into his classroom. In fact, he wasted no time jumping into today’s lesson, a continuation of yesterday’s discussion over the establishment of big businesses in the US at the turn of the century. I was only halfheartedly taking notes, since I’d covered most of the material back at Pratt. I ended up getting halfway through a doodle of a miniature Hogwarts, complete with boats full of first-years on the lake, when Kathleen leaned over and started tapping on my desk.

  GROUP TIME, she signed when I looked up at her.

  I stared at her in confusion, unsure of what she meant, and she signed, TEACHER WANT YOU ALL TALK ABOUT EARLY U-S BUSINESS. HOW BUSINESS CHANGE WITH NEW TECHNOLOGY.

  This was quite possibly a Deaf person’s nightmare—“Group time.” There was no way Kathleen or I would be able to keep up with the rapid flow of conversation from multiple people, and only rarely did some people not seem to be annoyed by the small delay interpreting could cause. This was going to be like putting a hearing person in between two Deaf people arguing in sign language and expecting them to understand what was going on.

  I was hoping I’d be in the same group as Nina, but I wound up with two girls who looked like they’d rather be anywhere else and a half-asleep guy leaning back so far in his desk I was sure he was going to fall over.

  Kathleen dragged her chair over to our circle of desks by the whiteboard at the front of the class.

  TOILET, she signed to me, telling me she was going to use the restroom.

  Great timing, I thought.

  I nodded, trying to squash the feeling of unease stirring in the pit of my stomach.

  When Mr. Wells came over to dole out instructions, Kathleen still hadn’t returned. It didn’t matter that Mr. Wells was facing me, he was still talking too quickly and animatedly for me to understand a word of what he was saying. He gave me a thumbs-up when he finished, looking expectant with wide eyes, so I just mustered up a smile and did a thumbs-up of my own.

  The lone guy in the group slid lower in his seat and put his hands behind his head when Mr. Wells wandered off, like he was getting ready to take a nap. The two girls started laughing, and I figured the boy must have cracked a joke or made some sarcastic comment. I couldn’t be sure because I couldn’t really see his face.

  What was I supposed to do now? The group discussion was starting without me, and where was Kathleen? This was only the second day of school and I was determined not to let myself start falling behind already, even if this was just some silly group discussion. For all I knew, they could be having the most intelligent, thought-provoking group discussion of the last decade.

  But how was I supposed to offer input if I couldn’t even figure out what they were saying? What if I mispronounced the name of some business magnate or company or talked too loudly? That would get me even more weird, interested stares from that guy Jackson; he was sitting all the way across the classroom and I could still feel his eyes on me.

  I looked up from my tightly clasped hands when I saw a figure tip back in their seat to stick their head into our group. It was Beau, and he was speaking to the girls. I only caught a few words of it. Something like, “You . . . she’s deaf, right? You should . . .”

  “Hey!”

  Beau and the two girls looked surprised when they turned my way.

  “You don’t need to speak for me. Stop sticking your nose in my business.”

  I might have spoken a little too harshly—wasn’t like I could tell—because Beau looked like he’d been struck across the face. He started fumbling around for words, saying something like, “I wanted . . . help. I was just trying . . .”

  “I don’t want your help,” I snapped, and I meant every word of it. “I don’t need your help. And I am perfectly capable of contributing to the conversation. Like, I don’t think John D. Rockefeller was a very good person even if he was an amazing business man. See?”

  This was the exact moment Kathleen arrived, seeming alarmed at the tense atmosphere she just walked into.

  WHAT HAPPENED? she signed to me.

  NOTHING, I signed back. WAIT FOR YOU BEFORE WE START TALK.

  Kathleen did not look convinced, but she nodded, taking her seat, ready to interpret. Beau took this as his cue to retu
rn to his own group now, his eyes avoiding mine.

  Who said I needed him to be stepping in for me like that? It was obvious to the rest of the class I was Deaf, so where was the point in reminding my group of that?

  I decided his apology in sign language didn’t matter. Beau didn’t know anything about my world, and I sincerely doubted he ever would.

  CHAPTER 7

  Two weeks into the semester I was finally able to meet with my new guidance counselor, Mrs. Stephens. When Mom first announced we were moving to Colorado, I began extensive research on nearby colleges, searching for the best respiratory therapy programs to apply to. The result of my search was Cartwright College, a small school with an average class size of 25, about a twenty-minute drive away. This would allow me to live at home and still help Mom take care of Connor.

  It was crucial I saw Mrs. Stephens as soon as possible. The more time I had to make sure she understood every aspect of my plans for college and just how important this was to me, the better. I intended to apply to Cartwright early decision, so I would hopefully know by the end of the semester if I’d been accepted.

  After chemistry, Kathleen followed me down the hallway to the main office at the front of the school.

  MEETING ABOUT COLLEGE? she signed to me as we walked.

  I nodded, giving her a quick rundown of the plan I had mapped out for the four years ahead of me. Kathleen was beaming when I finished.

  SMART, she signed, pointing to me. YOU NOT NEED WORRY. BELIEVE THEY ACCEPT YOU.

  I gave a wobbly smile, signing, THANK YOU.

  Despite all my worrying in the beginning, Kathleen was steadily moving into the category of acquaintance rather than stranger. I was thinking more and more that my classes might not be all that bad if I had her to interpret for me. My classmates were the bigger problem, and I noticed Kathleen had a habit of giving a steely eyed glare to anyone that so much as had a weird look watching us sign. Not really what an interpreter was supposed to be doing, but it was nice she was looking out for me.

  When we reached Mrs. Stephens’ office, Kathleen knocked on the door before I could. There must’ve been some response from inside because Kathleen opened the door a beat later and ushered me inside.

  Mrs. Stephens was seated behind her desk and got up to greet us as we walked in. She was stern looking with thick-framed glasses and black hair cut short in a bob, but she smiled when she shook our hands.

  She said something like, “Nice to . . . you, Maya.”

  SAME, I signed, taking a seat in one of the chairs by her desk.

  Kathleen began to interpret as Mrs. Stephens started talking, clicking around on the computer on her desk.

  I SEE YOUR WORK FROM OLD SCHOOL. WONDERFUL GRADES, Kathleen signed to me for Mrs. Stephens. HOPE YOU LIKE NEW SCHOOL.

  I gave a one-shouldered shrug and signed, DIFFERENT, BUT OK.

  TELL ME YOUR HOPE FOR COLLEGE, Kathleen signed next for Mrs. Stephens.

  APPLY EARLY FOR R-T PROGRAM WITH C-A-R-T-W-R-I-G-H-T, I signed.

  Mrs. Stephens appeared startled at my response.

  WHY R-T PROGRAM? Kathleen signed Mrs. Stephens’ question.

  I hesitated, not sure if I wanted to share anything about Connor, but I decided being honest would be best. If she knew how important this was to me, maybe she would be an ally.

  I told her about Connor’s diagnosis and how difficult dealing with his illness could be, not only for him, but for the rest of the family too.

  I WANT TO HELP ALL KIDS WITH C-F, I finished, signing with feeling.

  Mrs. Stephens was nodding along as Kathleen interpreted and said, “. . . think what you want . . . wonderful. Promise . . . help you . . .”

  I watched Kathleen interpret the rest of what Mrs. Stephens was saying. It was almost surreal that Mrs. Stephens was saying that with my grades and above average SAT scores, she believed I had a very real shot at getting into Cartwright, where it was not uncommon for students to be put on a waiting list for more than a semester or two.

  It was hard not to flop back in my chair with a heavy sigh of relief. I think I signed THANK YOU about nine times. Planning for college had been one of my major worries about coming to a hearing school. My guidance counselor at Pratt was Deaf too, so he understood the obstacles lined up for me when graduation rolled around. Mrs. Stephens did not—at least not from firsthand experience—but she seemed more than willing to try working with me.

  I had a genuine smile on my face as the meeting wrapped up, and it was almost a struggle to keep from bouncing off the walls. This was going much better than I thought it would. The type of person who didn’t bat an eyelash or bring up barriers when a person with a “disability” shared their dreams was definitely someone you wanted on your side.

  We made an appointment to get together again in two weeks’ time to start working on my application for Cartwright, and Mrs. Stephens promised she would do some investigating into the college’s accommodation policies.

  GOOD MEETING, Kathleen signed when we walked out the door.

  WONDERFUL MEETING, I signed in agreement. HAPPY FOR HER SUPPORT.

  Things had gone well, but that didn’t mean I was out of the woods. I had enough trouble keeping up with the goings-on in my classes here, even with Kathleen interpreting. Lip-reading was not a perfect science. In those few moments when Kathleen stepped out to use the restroom, I could never be sure what I was missing. There was always some type of conversation going on around me that I knew was happening but couldn’t hear. And once I got to college I would be expected to keep pace with everyone else while someone interpreted the professor’s lecture for me. If I had a hard time keeping up in a regular chemistry class, what was going to happen when I hit college?

  Kathleen gave my shoulders a squeeze and signed, WHY SHE NOT SUPPORT YOU? WE ALL BELIEVE I-N YOU.

  I mustered up another smile but quickly averted my eyes. It was good that we were getting a head start on this, but this was far from over.

  Mom texted me during lunch to tell me Connor had an appointment at Children’s Hospital in Aurora with his new doctor and that she might be late picking me up from school. To kill time, I dragged myself to the library after saying good-bye to Kathleen. My attempt at getting some homework done was proving to be an unsuccessful endeavor, since my mind was still on college and my future. It was hard to focus on chemistry when my head was spinning. I jumped a little when I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and looked around to see Nina standing beside me.

  “Hi,” she said with a smile. “You okay?”

  I nodded, signing, GOOD.

  I could definitely see myself becoming friends with Nina, really the first person I’d met at Engelmann who had potential. Nina knew I was here, and most surprising of all, I didn’t mind so much using my voice in front of her. She hadn’t seemed fazed one bit when I used my voice in front of her for the first time, unlike Beau, who apparently thought my being able to speak was a miracle of epic proportions. Nina’s casual attitude toward my voice made all the difference for me, and I was a little tempted to ask her what my voice sounded like.

  “Cool,” Nina said. “We’re about to . . . council meeting. Love it if . . . stay.”

  Nina gestured to the people now coming over to the table, notebooks and backpacks in hand, chattering away with one another. And then there was Beau, who always seemed to be somewhere in the background with those green eyes and dimples of his.

  Beau had not tried to sign to me again since that incident in Mr. Wells’ class, and I was happy about that. I think he got the picture when I snapped at him to keep his nose out of my business. I did not need him to stick up for me or tell people they needed to be nice to me because I was Deaf. Being coddled because I couldn’t hear was the last thing I needed in my life.

  Beau stopped when he saw me sitting at the table, then pulled out a chair across from me and sat down, dropping his giant notebook down on the table.

  I was not expecting him to sign, HELLO to me, followed by
, HOW ARE YOU?

  Apparently, my temporary reprieve from Beau’s signing was up.

  FINE, I automatically signed back.

  He seemed very unsure of himself, but he kept going, signing the words, NICE DAY? next with his eyebrows raised in question.

  What was he doing? A sad attempt at an apology in sign language was one thing, but now this? No way was Beau actually learning ASL to hold a conversation with me. ASL wasn’t a particularly easy language to learn as it was, even with a teacher to guide you. Some website and YouTube tutorials weren’t always the best way to learn a language like ASL.

  “What are you doing?” I said, not caring there were a whole bunch of other people sitting at the table now.

  I expected Beau to turn the color of a tomato any time I spoke or signed to him, and he did not disappoint this time. But there was a determined set to his mouth as he tried to sign what I think was supposed to be, I WANT TO LEARN SIGN LANGUAGE, but came out more like, ME SIGN LANGUAGE.

  “Did you mean to say, ‘I want to learn sign language?’” I asked, incredulous.

  When Beau nodded and signed, YES, I demonstrated the correct way to sign that sentence, going through the motions slowly to make sure he understood me. I was about 50 percent sure this was some kind of elaborate prank, but I might as well make sure he was signing things the right way.

  THANK YOU, Beau signed when I was done.

  Someone started tapping their hand repeatedly on the table by us, and when I turned to look around there was some guy with carefully gelled hair and a blue polo shirt leaning toward me. He was facing me directly, so it wasn’t difficult to figure out he was telling me, “This . . . members only.”

  This was perfectly fine by me, and I wasted no time gathering up my things, sweeping them into my backpack. It wasn’t like I wanted to sit through some student council meeting where I’d be the recipient of all these looks because I signed or even if I used my voice. I could just as easily go wait outside for Mom.