Two weeks into the semester I was finally able to meet with my new guidance counselor, Mrs. Stephens. When Mom first announced we were moving to Colorado, I began extensive research on nearby colleges, searching for the best respiratory therapy programs to apply to. The result of my search was Cartwright College, a small school with an average class size of 25, about a twenty-minute drive away. This would allow me to live at home and still help Mom take care of Connor.

It was crucial I saw Mrs. Stephens as soon as possible. The more time I had to make sure she understood every aspect of my plans for college and just how important this was to me, the better. I intended to apply to Cartwright early decision, so I would hopefully know by the end of the semester if I’d been accepted.

After chemistry, Kathleen followed me down the hallway to the main office at the front of the school.

MEETING ABOUT COLLEGE? she signed to me as we walked.

I nodded, giving her a quick rundown of the plan I had mapped out for the four years ahead of me. Kathleen was beaming when I finished.

SMART, she signed, pointing to me. YOU NOT NEED WORRY. BELIEVE THEY ACCEPT YOU.

I gave a wobbly smile, signing, THANK YOU.

Despite all my worrying in the beginning, Kathleen was steadily moving into the category of acquaintance rather than stranger. I was thinking more and more that my classes might not be all that bad if I had her to interpret for me. My classmates were the bigger problem, and I noticed Kathleen had a habit of giving a steely eyed glare to anyone that so much as had a weird look watching us sign. Not really what an interpreter was supposed to be doing, but it was nice she was looking out for me.

When we reached Mrs. Stephens’ office, Kathleen knocked on the door before I could. There must’ve been some response from inside because Kathleen opened the door a beat later and ushered me inside.

Mrs. Stephens was seated behind her desk and got up to greet us as we walked in. She was stern looking with thick-framed glasses and black hair cut short in a bob, but she smiled when she shook our hands.

She said something like, “Nice to . . . you, Maya.”

SAME, I signed, taking a seat in one of the chairs by her desk.

Kathleen began to interpret as Mrs. Stephens started talking, clicking around on the computer on her desk.

I SEE YOUR WORK FROM OLD SCHOOL. WONDERFUL GRADES, Kathleen signed to me for Mrs. Stephens. HOPE YOU LIKE NEW SCHOOL.

I gave a one-shouldered shrug and signed, DIFFERENT, BUT OK.

TELL ME YOUR HOPE FOR COLLEGE, Kathleen signed next for Mrs. Stephens.

APPLY EARLY FOR R-T PROGRAM WITH C-A-R-T-W-R-I-G-H-T, I signed.

Mrs. Stephens appeared startled at my response.

WHY R-T PROGRAM? Kathleen signed Mrs. Stephens’ question.