Something in Mrs. Stephens’ expression seemed a tad bit more shrewd than normal. Our biweekly appointments after school to stay current with everything college usually went off without a hitch. We got into a routine of getting right down to business, Kathleen interpreting as she stood behind Mrs. Stephens’ desk while we discussed my current grades, filled out the necessary forms to register for orientation, and the like.

But maybe there was just something off about my face today that made Mrs. Stephens brush aside the packet I got in the mail about freshman orientation and ask, “. . . there something wrong?”

I looked to Kathleen while she finished interpreting what Mrs. Stephens was saying. Kathleen was signing, YOU LOOK UPSET.

I’d done my best to put the Steaming Bean incident from my mind. I got through another round of job applications and was currently waiting for any response before Mom told me I needed to hit the pavement and do some “face time” with potential employers.

As discouraging as the whole Steaming Bean thing had been, and even if Mom had already told me when I’d hinted that our finances might be rough that we were doing all right, I still needed to get a job.

But no matter how many times I would deny it to Beau and Mom, the Steaming Bean incident had thrown me off. I spent more time thinking about it than I should have, wondering if they really had filled the position or if they just said that because they didn’t want to pay for an interpreter. I was pretty sure if I put this out there to my friends back at Pratt, they’d probably be able to share similar experiences.

FINE, I signed, looking back and forth between Kathleen and Mrs. Stephens. BUSY A LOT.

Mrs. Stephens nodded as she listened to Kathleen speak and said, “Senior year . . . busy. . . . anything . . . bothering . . . ?”

“I’m fine,” I said aloud this time.

There was this moment when I thought Mrs. Stephens wasn’t about to let subject drop, but she relented after a couple of tense beats.

I looked back to Kathleen as she jumped into interpreting again while Mrs. Stephens started shuffling things around on her desk.

GOOD IDEA IF WE CONTACT C-A-R-T-W-R-I-G-H-T FOR APPOINTMENT, Kathleen was signing.

FOR? I signed in confusion. DORM? CLASS?

Mrs. Stephens shook her head and Kathleen signed, FOR INTERPRETER.

I grudgingly had to accept she had a point. Mrs. Stephens admitted she’d never worked with a Deaf student before and was unsure how long it would take to arrange for an interpreter to accompany me to all my classes and labs during my time at Cartwright.

By the time I left Mrs. Stephens’ office, we’d been able to schedule an appointment with the Disability Resource Office on Cartwright’s campus for next Tuesday afternoon.

NO WORRY, Kathleen signed to me in the hallway outside Mrs. Stephens’ office. NO PROBLEM WITH INTERPRETER. PROMISE.