He had apparently snuck off too and was partially hidden behind the mountain of jackets and shoes on the folding tables where the receptionist had sat taking tickets. I could see him in the corner, his mess of hair and his shoes with his long legs stretched out in front of him a dead giveaway.

There was a book open in his lap, and he seemed lost in the pages as he absentmindedly munched on the cookie in his hand. I stood there watching him long enough for it to get creepy, but it was weirdly fascinating to see him outside his natural habitat. He just kept turning page after page, pulling a cookie from the stack he had on a napkin next to him. He seemed oblivious to all the noise around him while he was reading, like he’d checked out from everything—the same thing I liked to do.

I took a few steps closer, but he still didn’t look up from his book. Between his fingers I could see the title: Canterbury Tales. This guy was doing the reading for our Historical Literature class at homecoming.

“Are you really reading Chaucer at a school dance right now?” I asked him in disbelief.

Beau looked up in surprise and nodded, signing, YES.

“Why?” Beau probably had a lot of friends wondering where he was, and more than a few girls wanting to dance with him. Probably Erica that Jackson had mentioned the other day for one. “Don’t you want to go hang out with your friends? Or have some student council thing to take care of?”

FORGET, Beau signed, giving his book a little shake. NEED FOR HOMEWORK.

“So?” I said. “There’s always time for homework tomorrow.”

He gave a slight smile and signed, TRUE. BUT NOW WORK FOR ME.

I settled myself on the floor beside him without really thinking about it, snagging a cookie from the pile on the napkin and taking a bite out of it.

“Nina says you worry about school a lot,” I said around a mouthful of cookie.

The conversation I had with Nina during our sloppy attempt at putting together a presentation for our history midterm last weekend had been illuminating to say the least.

Beau’s lips pressed together tightly as he snapped Canterbury Tales shut, signing, TRUE, again.

I was frowning as I finished off the last of my cookie and reached for another one. Why was Beau not using his voice? I appreciated the signing, but I got the feeling Beau felt the same way about signing that I felt about using my voice. It was awkward and maybe uncomfortable, but we both kept doing it anyway.

I decided to go along with it in the moment. Besides, if we both didn’t use our voices, that meant we could keep eating cookies.

WHY YOU WORRY ABOUT SCHOOL? I signed to Beau.