Mom didn’t stop me when I crumpled up the papers and tossed them in a trashcan as soon as we reached the parking garage. We were buckled in the car, sitting there with the engine idling, when Mom signed, WHAT’S WRONG?

I wasn’t angry because cochlear implants had been invented or that a lot of people chose to undergo the surgery to get them. CIs were a cool piece of technology. I was angry because it was only when I started attending a hearing school that cochlear implants entered the conversation. A year ago, CIs weren’t on Mom’s radar, and suddenly she was all interested in me getting the procedure, or at least that’s what it felt like.

I answered Mom’s question by signing, NOTHING.

SURE? she signed back, looking unconvinced.

MY FRIENDS LIKE ME DEAF, I signed slowly, thinking about my response as carefully as possible. LIKE MYSELF DEAF, I added, placing a hand against my chest. WHY I NEED CI NOW?

YOU NOT NEED CI, Mom signed to me quickly. BUT CHOICE HERE IF YOU WANT.

DON’T WANT, I signed back, and I meant it. Why would I suddenly change my mind? ALL DONE NOW?

SURE, Mom signed, putting the car into gear.

We drove home in silence.

Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

I was checking my email religiously after that first message from the Steaming Bean. My reply had included an enthusiastic Yes, I’d love an interview! and some resources for local interpreting agencies after my short explanation of my hearing loss and using sign language. I had high hopes for another quick response, but each time I refreshed my email with no new message waiting in my inbox, my frustration began increasing at an alarming rate.

AGAIN? Kathleen signed to me when I snuck a peek at my phone under the worktable in Ms. Phillips’ art class. WHAT’S UP?

SORRY, I signed quickly, dropping my phone into my backpack. WAIT FOR EMAIL.

ABOUT INTERVIEW? Kathleen signed, looking almost as thrilled as she had when I’d shown her my acceptance letter from Cartwright.

It wasn’t so easy to return her smile this time around.

Kathleen knew about my interview with the Steaming Bean because she was the one to refer me to a handful of interpreting agencies in Denver. It was my potential employer’s responsibility to supply the interpreter, not mine, which is why I hadn’t asked Kathleen to do it, and she hadn’t offered. This was an entirely new process for me, but I figured it was better that I do it the right way the first time around.

But the more time that passed without a second email from the Steaming Bean, the more paranoia started making itself at home in the back of my mind.