The Silence Between Us Page 8

  “This one,” I said, trailing my fingers along the fabric. “I like it.”

  “I . . . you might,” Nina said with a sly grin. “Try it . . . !”

  I took the dress, and Nina showed me to the bathroom down the hallway where I could change. I was careful to fold my jeans and T-shirt and set them on the counter as I tried on the dress. The bathroom was full of extravagant towels, soaps, and potpourri, and I didn’t want to mess anything up.

  Nina was right about us being the same size. The dress fit perfectly, cinched at the waist and falling a few inches past my knees. I looked at my reflection in the bathroom mirror before going to show Nina. I still recognized myself, so that was a good thing. I didn’t think my neon blue hearing aids were a good fit with the yellow color of the dress though, but there was nothing to be done about that.

  “I knew it!” Nina clapped her hands and did a little dance when I came back to her room, my clothes tucked up under my arm. “You look . . . pretty!”

  “Thanks,” I said awkwardly.

  “Come on . . . down,” Nina said, ushering me over to the chair she put in front of the mirror propped up on her desk. “I’m going to . . . your hair first.”

  I pulled out my hearing aids and set them carefully on the desk, then gave Nina the go-ahead to pull my hair out of its twist. I used the mirror in front of us to lip-read when she started to speak.

  “I didn’t know . . . hair was . . . long!” she said, eyes wide as she started working out some knots with a comb.

  “I like to keep it up,” I said. “My hair gets tangled around my hearing aids a lot.”

  I gave Nina full permission to do whatever she wanted with my hair and makeup and let her work her magic. I never bothered doing anything with my hair in the morning besides throwing it up in a ponytail, and after the one time Melissa gave me a disastrous makeover sophomore year, I didn’t see the point in makeup either.

  I purposely did not look in the mirror while Nina worked, instead focusing on eating the pizza her mom bought us for dinner. Nina must have had more patience than I gave her credit for because she wound up doing a fabulous job curling my hair, something Melissa had declared impossible.

  Nina went light with the makeup and used lip gloss to make my lips shinier than usual.

  “I know you’re . . . nervous,” Nina said to me as I spent longer than I should have inspecting my reflection in the mirror. “But I promise . . . will have . . . great time.”

  I wasn’t used to seeing myself with eyeshadow or mascara, but it made my eyes look brighter, my lips a shiny pink from the lip gloss. I looked . . . different, but still somehow like myself. Not hideous or anything like that, but maybe a little misshapen—like my self-portrait.

  “Right,” I said, not meeting her gaze as I put my hearing aids in. “A great time.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The parking lot at Engelmann was packed when we arrived. Nina spent a few minutes cruising through row after row looking for a spot, singing along to whatever song was blasting from the radio. She turned the volume up loud enough to where I could feel the entire seat vibrating underneath me, which was not helping to calm me down.

  We finally found a spot way in the back. I let Nina lead the march into school, feeling a bit like her awkward shadow. She looked like a knockout in the red sheath dress she wore with dangly gold earrings and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. It was a simple and elegant look, and she carried herself with a confidence I tried to mimic as we walked through the parking lot. Just because I was a nervous wreck didn’t mean everyone else needed to know it too.

  Once we got inside, Nina gave our tickets to the front office receptionist who had the bad luck of chaperoning, then wiggled her way into the gym, itching to start dancing. There were strands of twinkle lights cascading down from the gym ceiling and a lot of dark blue and black balloons everywhere. Pretty much everyone was already dancing or stuffing their faces with snacks from the refreshment tables in the back of the gym.

  Nina was shouting something to me, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying because the lighting was too dim to lipread. She caught my wrist and led me across the dance floor to the refreshment tables, and I quickly figured out why. Beau was there.

  I felt awkward and uncomfortable wearing a dress as nice as this one, but it looked like Beau felt the same way in the dress pants and red button-down shirt he was wearing. His face was all screwed up in a frown as he ate a cookie, giving a side-eyed glare to the nearby couple dancing a little too enthusiastically.

  He dropped the second cookie that was in his hand when he saw Nina and me approaching and swallowed down the rest of the cookie in his mouth. It was too dark to tell, but I was sure he was blushing.

  Nina greeted him with a friendly punch to the shoulder and must have commented on his appearance by the way he started fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. His eyes moved to me as he gave Nina a response, and whatever he was saying fell short.

  I almost started squirming under his gaze. Why was he looking at me like that? I stared back defiantly, signing, WHAT’S UP?

  Beau didn’t seem to think twice about signing the word for beautiful, a circular motion with the fingers around the face, and then pointed to me.

  I didn’t know how else to respond but to sign, GOOFY, and point right back at him.

  Beau cracked a smile at this and signed, THANK YOU.

  YOU’RE WELCOME, I signed back.

  I didn’t know what to do with the fact Beau thought I looked beautiful. He wasn’t paying much attention to what Nina was saying to him, his eyes still on me, and I was torn between feeling flattered and wanting to tell him to knock it off. I never got much notice from boys, Deaf or hearing. This was weird. Even weirder was this weightless sensation taking me over, making me curl my toes from the way Beau was looking at me.

  HAPPY YOU HERE, Beau signed next.

  From the genuinely pleased look on his face, I had to think he meant that.

  Now I wasn’t sure if I wanted to giggle or hide my face in embarrassment. I knew my cheeks were hot already, but at least the lighting was poor and he couldn’t tell.

  Rather than sign something I knew Beau wouldn’t understand, I said, “I’m not doing anything else tonight.”

  SAME, he replied in sign. He tried signing something else, and it took me a moment to figure out he was trying to ask me if I liked dancing, but he floundered on the last word, his lips pursed again.

  I was trying not to grin as I showed him how to properly sign the word for dance—the tips of the middle and index fingers moving back and forth across the palm a few times.

  NO, I then signed in answer to his question, adding, I HATE DANCE.

  SAME, Beau signed again with the same grin as before.

  Nina had her hands on both our forearms, snagging our attention, and said, “Do . . . guys want . . . dance?”

  Beau and I both started laughing.

  Nina was determined to hit the dance floor, and that was my cue to excuse myself to go to the restroom. I hid in the bathroom playing Fruit Ninja on my cell phone. Not really what you were supposed to be doing at homecoming, but the more time I coattention, and said, I could kill, the less time I’d have for dancing.

  I figured my time was up after fifteen minutes. I wouldn’t put it past Nina to come hunt me down and drag me back out there. And seeing as she was my ride, it wasn’t like I could make an early escape.

  Eventually I began making my way back toward the dance, but I took my sweet time doing it. I was still some distance from the gym, but I could feel the bass vibrating the tiled floor—not enough to pick up any distinct rhythm, but it was enough to tell it was some upbeat, fast-paced song. I thought about finding a new hiding spot, but I stopped when I caught sight of Beau.

  He had apparently snuck off too and was partially hidden behind the mountain of jackets and shoes on the folding tables where the receptionist had sat taking tickets. I could see him in the corner, his mess of hair and
his shoes with his long legs stretched out in front of him a dead giveaway.

  There was a book open in his lap, and he seemed lost in the pages as he absentmindedly munched on the cookie in his hand. I stood there watching him long enough for it to get creepy, but it was weirdly fascinating to see him outside his natural habitat. He just kept turning page after page, pulling a cookie from the stack he had on a napkin next to him. He seemed oblivious to all the noise around him while he was reading, like he’d checked out from everything—the same thing I liked to do.

  I took a few steps closer, but he still didn’t look up from his book. Between his fingers I could see the title: Canterbury Tales. This guy was doing the reading for our Historical Literature class at homecoming.

  “Are you really reading Chaucer at a school dance right now?” I asked him in disbelief.

  Beau looked up in surprise and nodded, signing, YES.

  “Why?” Beau probably had a lot of friends wondering where he was, and more than a few girls wanting to dance with him. Probably Erica that Jackson had mentioned the other day for one. “Don’t you want to go hang out with your friends? Or have some student council thing to take care of?”

  FORGET, Beau signed, giving his book a little shake. NEED FOR HOMEWORK.

  “So?” I said. “There’s always time for homework tomorrow.”

  He gave a slight smile and signed, TRUE. BUT NOW WORK FOR ME.

  I settled myself on the floor beside him without really thinking about it, snagging a cookie from the pile on the napkin and taking a bite out of it.

  “Nina says you worry about school a lot,” I said around a mouthful of cookie.

  The conversation I had with Nina during our sloppy attempt at putting together a presentation for our history midterm last weekend had been illuminating to say the least.

  Beau’s lips pressed together tightly as he snapped Canterbury Tales shut, signing, TRUE, again.

  I was frowning as I finished off the last of my cookie and reached for another one. Why was Beau not using his voice? I appreciated the signing, but I got the feeling Beau felt the same way about signing that I felt about using my voice. It was awkward and maybe uncomfortable, but we both kept doing it anyway.

  I decided to go along with it in the moment. Besides, if we both didn’t use our voices, that meant we could keep eating cookies.

  WHY YOU WORRY ABOUT SCHOOL? I signed to Beau.

  I had to repeat myself twice before he understood what I was asking. It took him a minute or two to come up with an answer. I could practically see the cogs whirring in his brain while he tried to come up with the signs he wanted to use.

  NEED GO TO GOOD C-O-L-L-E-G-E, he finally signed, reaching for another cookie.

  I KNOW, I signed. Y-A-L-E.

  YES. HOW YOU KNOW? Beau signed, his brows pulled together in confusion.

  N-I-N-A TELL ME, I answered. TELL ME YOU REALLY SMART.

  I had to finger spell the word smart for him, and he went pink in the face once he got it. His response was, MAYBE.

  NO LIE, I signed, trying to hide a smile. YOU KNOW YOU SMART.

  Beau shrugged, wiping a bit of frosting from the cookie off his pant leg.

  I leaned over and nudged him gently with my elbow, wanting his attention. WHAT’S WRONG? I signed when he finally looked at me.

  He immediately started to finger spell the word nothing, and I stopped him before he got too into it, showing him the proper sign. Nothing was kind of a weird sign; making the letter o with your fingers and shaking your hand back and forth.

  Beau just signed it again, NOTHING.

  LIE, I signed right back at him.

  Why couldn’t he just tell me what was eating at him?

  FINE, Beau signed quickly. NOT LIE. TRUE.

  I pulled a quizzical face, channeling Sherlock Holmes as I narrowed my eyes and put my chin in my hand.

  This made Beau laugh, and for one split second I wanted to know what that laughter sounded like. His dimples appeared, and I felt my stomach give a huge flip before the moment was over.

  HATE SCHOOL, Beau signed once he was done laughing. DON’T LIKE.

  SAME, I agreed. BUT LAW SAY WE NEED SCHOOL.

  I KNOW, Beau signed. BUT I . . .

  He paused, gnawing on his lip as he struggled to convey what he wanted to tell me.

  “But what?” I said aloud because it seemed easier that way.

  Maybe Beau’s signing wasn’t exceptional, but he was trying to communicate with me nevertheless. He knew more sign than Nina did. I could at least meet him halfway, right?

  “I don’t know . . . I want . . . my life,” he said, looking agitated as he reached for another cookie. Our supply was quickly dwindling.

  “You don’t know what you want to do with your life?” I repeated, hoping I got it right.

  Beau signed, YES.

  It was an unusual thought—at least for me—not knowing what you wanted to do with your life. I had it in my mind I wanted to become a respiratory therapist even before I became Deaf. It was just something that had always been there, that ambition, and it was strange to think of what it would be like if I hadn’t had that epiphany that day I spent at the hospital with Connor when he was barely four years old.

  “I think that’s okay,” I said to Beau after a moment of thought. “I mean, you’re what, seventeen, eighteen? It’s not like you have to have everything mapped out right now.”

  I could tell Beau was laughing again, but it wasn’t a happy laugh like before.

  MY FATHER THINK THAT, he signed, his frown deepening. HE WANT ME . . .

  Nina mentioned Beau’s dad was more intense about the whole college thing than most parents, but it seemed like whatever it was his dad wanted really aggravated him. Sometimes peoples’ facial expressions said it all.

  “Well, you’re the one that’ll be taking out all those massive student loans, right? Might as well go off to college to do what you want,” I told Beau.

  “Maybe,” Beau said. “I just . . . to . . . Yale. My dad will . . . if I don’t.”

  I’d always had the unfailing support of my mom, which made it a challenge for me to put myself in Beau’s shoes for this.

  “So?” I finally said. “It’s not like it’s his life to live.”

  Beau’s eyes widened, his lips parting as if he were about to speak. But whatever he was going to say fell short when I gave a yelp of surprise at the hands that suddenly came down on my shoulders.

  I tried to break free and whip around to see who was behind me, but I wound up painfully smacking my head on the row of lockers next to me.

  Jackson was standing there, and quickly inched back a step at the dirty look I sent his way. My heart was pounding hard, my breathing uneven. I could not stand it when people snuck up behind me like that.

  Anytime it happened, it was like one of my biggest fears was being realized. I’d get flashes of this dark scenario—of someone creeping up behind me late at night as I’m walking to my car in some empty parking lot, and I’d never know. I’d never know because I’m never entirely aware of my surroundings without being able to hear.

  “Sorry,” Jackson said with wide eyes.

  “Don’t do that,” I snapped, using the lockers as support to pull myself up to my feet. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Sorry,” Jackson repeated, and maybe he looked like he meant it, but that didn’t change the fact he’d just scared the living daylights out of me. “I just . . . see what . . . up to. Maybe want . . . dance?”

  Seriously?

  Beau got to his feet too, and rather than looking frustrated or sad like moments before, he looked angry. “Dude. Why would you . . .”

  Jackson went palms up like he was surrendering. “My bad. I didn’t . . .”

  HEY, I signed to Beau to get his attention when he very much looked like he was about to go off on some rant, telling Jackson off. STOP.

  Jackson stopped mid-sentence, and a curious expression took over his face as he wa
tched me sign to Beau. I did not care for his staring. Not only because it made me uncomfortable—as if I didn’t get enough staring at this stupid school—but also because I had a strong suspicion Jackson was maybe a bit more than just a ladies’ man, like Nina mentioned.

  I’d seen one girl in AP US History flat-out turn him down, but that hadn’t stopped him. Either he was exceptionally dense, or he was the type of guy who didn’t take no for an answer. And a guy who didn’t take no for an answer wasn’t really someone I wanted to be around.

  WHY YOU FRIEND WITH HIM? I signed to Beau. NOT REALLY NICE.

  He looked conflicted as he finally connected the dots, making sense of what I signed. NOT BAD PERSON, he signed, carefully choosing his signs. HE . . .

  WHAT? I demanded. I was a little angrier than I thought. My hands were trembling. HE COOL FRIEND YOU THINK YOU NEED?

  NOT TRUE, he signed back after I had to repeat myself. I NEED . . .

  I didn’t care to stick around long enough to find out what Beau needed. I was tired of being subjected to Jackson’s interested gaze. I would take dancing over standing between these two.

  SEE YOU LATER, I signed to Beau, and just because I could, I grabbed the last of his cookies before I marched off.

  I flopped down onto the bleachers in the gym and ate the last cookie, thankful the noise from the dance in full swing was lost on me. I felt all the vibrations from the music sinking into the bleachers, but that was easy enough to ignore.

  Here I had thought I was just having a genuine conversation with Beau, both in sign and using our voices, and now I was starting to wonder if I’d been wrong. And I didn’t want to be wrong.

  Beau was the only hearing boy at this school who’d taken the initiative to even learn a few signs to try to talk to me. He wasn’t fluent in ASL by any means, but I’d felt more of a connection with him out there in the hallway, signing and eating cookies, than with any of the Deaf boys I’d met back at Pratt.

  And after that talk we just had, I did not think I could ignore that fact any longer. The hearing boy with all his books, the one destined for Yale, seemed just as vulnerable and scared as I felt most of the time at this school.