Kathleen brushed her fingers up along her forearm, the sign for slow, and Dr. Rivera paused, pink in the face. He’d probably never dealt with a Deaf kid—like everyone else in this school, I was willing to bet—and I could tell he wasn’t quite sure what to do.

N-I-N-A WONDERFUL STUDENT, Kathleen was signing as Dr. Rivera gestured to Nina, who still looked beyond embarrassed with her cheeks a blazing red. WE ASK HER B-E YOUR PEER MENTOR FOR YOUR FIRST TWO WEEKS HERE.

DON’T UNDERSTAND, I signed in confusion, shaking my head.

Dr. Rivera waved his hands around like he was giving some dramatic Shakespearian monologue as he explained what a “peer mentor” was. I only caught a few words of what he was saying, like “great student” and “grades” and something about student council. He hadn’t really seemed to pick up on the whole you need to slow down so the Deaf kid can understand you thing.

N-I-N-A SHOW YOU YOUR CLASSES, Kathleen explained to me. WALK YOU AROUND SCHOOL. MAKE SURE YOU HAVE GOOD TIME.

I should have seen this coming.

SHE MY BABYSITTER? I signed, jabbing a finger at Nina. WALK ME AROUND, HAVE HEARING KIDS MAKE FRIEND WITH NEW DEAF GIRL?

Mom was pursing her lips, looking uncomfortable while Kathleen relayed what I said to Dr. Rivera and Nina. I watched Nina’s face fall as she listened to Kathleen, and I felt a momentary twinge of guilt.

I wanted to get used to the idea of being in a hearing school again at my own pace. Not just be thrown to the wolves and expected to make friends with the first hearing kid to cross my path.

NOT LIKE THAT, Kathleen interpreted as Nina started to speak. WANT YOU ENJOY E-N-G-E-L-M-A-N-N.

IMPOSSIBLE, I signed back immediately.

I saw Mom give another one of those sighs and scrunch her eyes closed. She took a moment to collect herself and signed to me, WORK WITH HER. I KNOW YOU NOT HAPPY, BUT TRY. PLEASE.

It was the expression on her face that ultimately made me back down. She looked so tired and worn down, and I knew it was partially because of me. I hadn’t made things easy on her since she announced we were moving. I knew she was doing everything she could to make a good life for us out here, and she had enough to worry about with my little brother, Connor. When you have a son with cystic fibrosis, somehow your Deaf teenager ends up being the less difficult one—maybe not so much attitude-wise though.

OK, I signed, reaching over to squeeze her forearm. SORRY.

OK, Mom signed, a wobbly smile on her lips.