To reach the point of even being able to get a job at a hospital would take years of busting my butt to prove myself, graduating from college and completing internships, and to have that suddenly snatched away in an instant because I couldn’t hear a simple alarm? The thought was terrifying.

I gave a start of surprise at the sudden gentle touch to my shoulder and almost groaned when I looked over to see who was standing beside me now, staring at my self-portrait on the easel.

“What’re you doing here?”

Beau kept staring at my self-portrait, and a lifetime seemed to pass me by before he finally looked at me.

YOURS? he signed, nodding toward my portrait.

YES, I signed, curling my fingers tightly around the paintbrush in my left hand.

I LIKE, Beau signed with his usual smile and the dimples, and then I started to feel like I was collapsing in on myself again.

Beau stayed put when I didn’t say or sign anything to him, and he signed, WHAT’S WRONG?

NOTHING, I signed back, but I couldn’t even get through the sign without my lips trembling.

Beau raised one eyebrow, clearly not accepting my response. The heavy rise and fall of his chest indicated he must have sighed when I didn’t exactly respond. He went and grabbed a stool from the closest worktable, dragged it over, and sat down beside me.

WHAT’S WRONG? he signed again.

“What are you even doing here?” I asked, blowing off his question. “Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“I’m . . . office . . . this period. Running . . . for Mrs. . . .” Beau said, and when I just stared at him in befuddlement, he finger spelled, E-R-R-A-N-D-S. I felt another sigh escape when he added, WHAT’S WRONG? again in sign.

“Ask me what’s wrong one more time, I swear . . .”

Beau paused, and a grin broke out across his face as he signed, WHAT’S WRONG?

I couldn’t help but throw my head back and laugh, then immediately regretted it when I almost lost my balance and fell off my stool.

Beau watched me with a small smile and waited until I was done grumbling to say, “Seriously. Can you . . . me what happened?”

I didn’t mean to spill my story, but I didn’t have the energy to squabble with him anymore.

“I just had my chemistry midterm,” I began, and I could feel the hitch coming out in my voice.

Beau raised his eyebrows as if to say, and?

“It . . . it didn’t go well. Actually, it was a freaking disaster if I’m being honest.”

WHY? Beau signed immediately, leaning forward with interest.

“I think my lab partner, Eli Collins, forgot I’m Deaf,” I told him. “He asked me to watch the pressure sensor we were using for this sodium bicarbonate solution, but, you know, obviously I didn’t hear him ask me.”