Kathleen waved to get my attention and pointed behind me as I shoved my textbook into my backpack. Beau was standing there behind me when I glanced over my shoulder, and Kathleen came forward to interpret as he started to speak.

Great, I thought, trying not to let my irritation show. This guy just couldn’t take a hint.

YOU ENJOY CLASS? Kathleen signed.

I shrugged. EASY, I signed, then pointed to myself. MATH GENIUS.

With the way the corners of his eyes crinkled and his cheeks lifted, Beau must’ve laughed when Kathleen told him what I signed. I was able to make out most of what he said next, something like, “Good . . . Mrs. Richardson . . . tough.”

Maybe it was a little bit of an exaggeration, but I was good at math. I’d been in accelerated classes since freshman year. Good thing too, seeing as my math and science grades needed to be above and beyond average if I wanted to make it as a respiratory therapist, my dream job. It would be hard enough getting into the medical field being Deaf, so I had to make sure I had the smarts to prove that not being able to hear wouldn’t stop me from helping save lives.

I’d spent more than my fair share around respiratory therapists—they were a huge part of Connor’s treatment team for cystic fibrosis. Everything about the disease sucked, from the constant pain to the medications to the special vest Connor had to use that made him hack up fluid and mucus in his lungs. But the therapists helped make Connor’s hospital stays as easy and comfortable as possible. I wanted to do the same thing for other kids with CF.

I felt a smattering of guilt when I realized Kathleen was still interpreting the conversation with Beau and I’d been too wrapped up in my thoughts of Connor and respiratory therapy to pay much attention.

NEXT CLASS? Kathleen signed as Beau continued speaking to her.

He still didn’t seem to catch on that he should be looking at me, not Kathleen. He was three feet from me, and I was almost positive I saw him say, “Tell her . . .” I had to make a conscious effort not to start grinding my teeth out of annoyance.

I pulled my crumpled class schedule out of my back pocket to check what class was next. A-P U-S HISTORY, I signed.

Beau was flashing those dimples as he smiled again when Kathleen voiced what I’d signed, then said, “Me too.”

COOL, I signed back. I wasn’t sure if I meant it.

OK IF I WALK WITH YOU BOTH? Kathleen signed for Beau as he jabbed a thumb toward the door.

N-I-N-A TELL ME SHE WALK ME T-O NEXT CLASS, I signed in response.

Beau nodded as Kathleen relayed what I signed to him and said, “Nina is . . . girl. She’s . . . friend.”