I snatched my backpack off the back of my chair, grabbed my sandwich and lemonade bottle, and was off like a rocket. The hallway outside the cafeteria was blissfully empty, so I just took off, not caring if my shoes were slapping extra loud on the tiled floor. I wanted to put as much distance between me and that lunch table as possible. It was a shame walking all the way back to New Jersey was out of the question.

I’d never gotten, “You can talk?” before. As if my being able to talk was somehow supposed to be impossible because I was Deaf? What did that have to do with anything?

I felt myself growing more and more irritated with myself because I was actually embarrassed about having spoken in front of Nina and Beau and those other total strangers at that lunch table.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, I chanted to myself as I kept on down the hallway. These people didn’t mean anything to me. I didn’t care what they thought or said. At least, I didn’t want to.

Taking up a post at my locker, I picked at the rest of my sandwich and took a few sips of lemonade, though my appetite had all but disappeared after that little display in the cafeteria. As I ate, I debated the merits of going out and getting a job to buy a car so I could drive myself to that school for the Deaf. It wouldn’t be the same as Pratt, but at least there I could be around other people who “spoke” my language. It was a nice thought that kept me going through next period’s art class, though I knew it wasn’t exactly realistic. Even if I found a job in the next few weeks, I doubted I could save up enough to get a car before I graduated.

Mom’s attempts at reassuring me everything was going to be great at this hearing school already hit a brick wall on the first day. How could she have ever thought this would turn out okay?

Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

YOU OK? Kathleen signed to me on our way out of chemistry class, the last class of the day. SAD, she added, pointing to me with raised eyebrows.

FINE, I signed back. TIRED.

Not a total lie—I was exhausted. I’d forgotten how tiring it could be to lip-read so much, trying to make sense of what people were saying around me. I had to put forth way more effort into communicating than the hearing people at this school. It was depressing to think I was going to have to do it for almost eight hours a day, five days a week, for the next several months.

TOMORROW NEW DAY, Kathleen signed to me, smiling encouragingly.

I KNOW, I answered. BUT I FORGET HEARING PEOPLE WEIRD WITH DEAF.