Jessi's Secret Language (4 page)

I have to admit that running into Mary Anne Spier and Jenny Prezzioso that afternoon was not the best experience of my life, but I guess it could have been worse. And it absolutely was not Mary Anne's fault. I bet Jenny was born a brat.

Oh, well. I'm ahead of myself (again). Mary Anne's afternoon at the Prezziosos' house began right after school ended. Mrs. P. let Mary Anne inside, where she found Jenny sitting at the dining room table having a snack. Now, come on. How many kids do
you
know who get afternoon snacks in the dining room? At our house, it's strictly kitchen. Usually we don't even sit down. Becca and I just open the fridge, stand in front of it until we see something we want, take it out, and eat it on the way to our rooms or (in my case) on the way to a baby-sitting job or to Stamford for dance class.

But Jenny was sitting at the dining room table eating pudding from a goblet with a silver spoon. She was wearing one of her famous lacy dresses. (Mary Anne once told me that she thinks the Prezziosos support the U.S. lace industry all by themselves.) On her feet were white patent leather Mary Janes, and in her hair were silky blue ribbons.

Now don't get me wrong. Jenny wasn't off to a birthday party or anything. Her mother dresses her like that every day. (I hope the time will come when Jenny will rebel and refuse to wear lace anymore. Or ruffles. Or ribbons. Or bows.) Another thing. The Prezziosos are not rich. They're
just average. But Jenny is their princess, their only child. (They call her their angel.)

Anyway, Mrs. Prezzioso finally left, and Mary Anne and Jenny were on their own.

“Finish up your pudding, Jen, and then we can play some games,” said Mary Anne brightly.

“I eat slowly,” Jenny informed her. “And don't call me Jen.”

(Keep in mind that Jenny is only four.)

“Sorry,” Mary Anne apologized. But already her hackles were up, because she added tightly, “I didn't mean to insult you.”

Jenny slurped away at her pudding. “All finished,” she announced a minute later, holding out the spoon and goblet.

“Great,” replied Mary Anne. “Go put them in the sink.” She wasn't going to do Jenny's work for her.

Jenny did so, scowling all the way.

Mary Anne knew they were off to a bad start and began to feel guilty. “Okay!” she said. “Let's play a game. How about Candy Land? Or Chutes and Ladders?”

Jenny put her hands on her hips. “I don't wanna.”

“Then let's read. Where's
Squirrel Nutkin
? That's your favorite.”

“No, it isn't, and I don't
wanna
read.”

Jenny and Mary Anne were facing off in the kitchen, Jenny's hands on her hips.

“I know!” cried Mary Anne. “Finger painting!”

“Finger painting?” Jenny sounded awed. “Really?”

“Yes…. If you'll change into play clothes.”

“No. No, no, no. This is my new dress and I'm wearing it.”

“Okay, fine,” replied Mary Anne. “If there's nothing you want to do then you can just stand here all afternoon. I'm going to read a book.” (As you can probably imagine, quiet Mary Anne doesn't say things like that very often.)

Jenny looked at Mary Anne with wide eyes. “You mean you're not going to play with me?”

Mary Anne sighed. “What do you want to play?” she asked.

“I don't know.”

“Dolls?”

“Nope.”

“House?”

“Nope.”

“You want to draw a nice picture for your mommy?”

“Nope.”

Mary Anne had reached the end of her rope. “That does it,” she muttered. She opened a closet door, pulled out Jenny's light coat (of course Jenny didn't own a sweatshirt or a Windbreaker or anything), and put it on her. She buttoned it up, Jenny protesting the whole time, put on her own jacket, and marched Jenny outdoors.

“Now,” said Mary Anne grimly, “we're going to have fun if it kills us.”

But Jenny, if you remember, was wearing white patent leather shoes. They're kind of hard to have fun in. The only activity Mary Anne could think of for them was a nice quiet walk.

That was how they ran into Matt and Haley and me. I was at the Braddocks' again and had just had another signing lesson. I had memorized over twenty signs by then. (The Braddocks knew about a million, but I was new at this. They'd been at it for years.) Anyway, after the lesson, Mrs. Braddock had asked me to take Matt and Haley outside to play.

Mary Anne and I were surprised to see each other.

“Hi!” we exclaimed.

Then we had to do a lot of introducing, since Jenny didn't know me or the Braddocks, Mary Anne didn't know the Braddocks, I didn't know
Jenny, and the Braddocks didn't know Jenny or Mary Anne.

Haley translated for Matt, and I jumped in whenever I knew a sign. I noticed that Jenny was watching us with her mouth open.

“What are you doing?” she finally asked Haley and me.

“Matt's deaf,” I explained. “He can't hear us, but we can tell him things with our hands. Then he can see what we're saying.”

Jenny approached Matt and yelled right into his ear at the top of her lungs, “CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?”

Matt just blinked and backed up a few paces.

Haley signed to him to say hi to Jenny.

Matt obediently waved.

“He just said hi to you,” I told Jenny.

“You mean he can't talk, either?” asked Jenny, aghast.

“He can make
sounds
,” Haley told her defensively.

And just then, Matt caught sight of a bug wriggling along the sidewalk. He laughed. His laugh was a cross between fingernails on a blackboard and a goose honking. I had to admit, it was one weird sound.

Jenny cringed against Mary Anne. “Let's go,” she whispered — loudly enough for Haley and me to hear her. “He's weird. I don't want to play with him.”

“Well, you're not the first one to say so!” Haley shouted.

“We better leave,” Mary Anne said quickly. “I'm sorry, Jessi. I'll call you tonight so we can talk, okay?”

I nodded.

As they left, Haley shot a murderous glance at her brother, who was now on his hands and knees, watching the bug.

“You know what?” she said to me, and her great grin was gone. “Having a brother like Matt really stinks.” Then she stood behind him, tears glistening in her eyes, and shouted, “You stink, Matt! You STINK!” Of course, Matt didn't hear her.

“It is so horrible!” Haley went on. “People think Matt's weird, but he isn't. Deaf is not weird. Everybody's unfair.” Then she stormed into the Braddocks' house and slammed the door behind her.

Ah-ha, I thought. I was beginning to understand Haley and Matt. The Braddocks had just
moved to a new neighborhood and Haley wanted to fit in, but Matt was making that a little difficult.

Well, I could sympathize. In Stoneybrook, being black wasn't any easier.

My first real baby-sitting job for Haley and Matt! I have to tell you that I was a little nervous. I was even more nervous than I'd felt at the most recent rehearsal of
Coppélia
. The rehearsal had been hard work and I'd felt sore afterward, but not nervous. I was fairly self-confident. So if I could dance the lead in a ballet, you'd think that a job baby-sitting for a nine-year-old and a seven-year-old one afternoon wouldn't be hard at all. And ordinarily it wouldn't be. But Matt is not your ordinary seven-year-old.

I still knew only a handful of signs, so I started imagining all sorts of problems. What if Haley wasn't around and Matt didn't feel well? I couldn't ask him what was wrong, and if he tried to tell me, I probably wouldn't understand.

But there was no point in worrying about things like that. Of course Haley would be there
to help me, and Matt would be fine. Besides, he could write, and anyway, Mrs. Braddock was only going to the grocery store. She'd be gone for an hour and a half, tops.

When I got to the Braddocks' house I could tell that Mrs. Braddock was a little nervous, too. She kept reminding me about things.

“Be extra careful outdoors,” she said. “Remember that Matt can't hear car horns.”

“Right,” I replied.

“And he can't hear a shouted warning.”

“Right.”

“And inside he can't hear the doorbell or telephone.”

“I'll take care of those things.”

“Do you remember the sign for
bathroom
?”

“Yup.”

“For
eat
?”

“Yup…. And I can do finger spelling. I memorized the alphabet last night.” (Mrs. Braddock had explained to me that there was a sign for every letter in the alphabet, just like there were signs for words. So, for instance, if I wanted to spell my name, I would sign the letters
J-E-S-S-I
. Finger spelling takes longer than regular signing, but at least you can communicate names and unusual words that way.)

“The whole alphabet?” Mrs. Braddock repeated. She sounded impressed.

I nodded. “The whole thing. Oh, and I thought of a name for myself. Look.”

I shaped my right hand into the sign for the letter
J
(for my name), pointed it downward, and whisked it back and forth across the palm of my left hand. That's the sign for the word
dance
except that you usually make a
V
with your right index and middle fingers, to look like a pair of legs flying across the floor.

“See?” I said. “A dancing
J
! Anyway, don't worry, Mrs. Braddock. You know how many signs I've memorized. I'm not too good at sentences, but Matt and I will get along. No problem.” I sounded a lot more confident than I felt.

“Besides,” added Haley, who had appeared in the kitchen. “You've got
me
, right?” She sounded a little uncertain — as if I might say I didn't need her after all.

I put my arm around Haley. “I'll say!” I exclaimed. “You're the best help I've got.”

Haley turned on that smile of hers.

“Well …” said Mrs. Braddock. She glanced down the hallway and out the front door, looking (I think) for Matt's special school bus. “Matt should be here in about ten minutes. I told him
this morning that you would be here when he got home from school and that I'd be back soon. Haley can help you remind him if he seems anxious, but I think he'll be all right. He really likes you, Jessi.”

“Thanks,” I replied.

Mrs. Braddock left then, and Haley and I sat on the front stoop to wait for Matt. The school bus was prompt. It pulled into the driveway exactly ten minutes after Mrs. Braddock left.

Matt jumped down the steps of the van. He waved eagerly to the driver, who waved back, and then signed something to a giggling face that was pressed against a window of the van. The little boy signed back. A second boy joined in. Matt and his friends were talking about football. (I think.)

It was odd, I thought, to see so much energy and so much communication — without any sound at all. Watching the boys was like watching TV with the volume turned off.

The bus drove away and Matt ran across the lawn to Haley and me, smiling. (Mrs. Braddock hadn't needed to worry about anxiety.)

“Hi!” I signed to Matt. (A wave and a smile.)

He returned the wave and smile.

I showed him the sign for my name (which he liked), and then I asked him about school. (The sign for school is clapping hands — like a teacher trying to get the attention of her pupils. When I found that out, I wondered what the sign for
applause
or
clap
is, since it seemed to have been used up. This is the sign: You touch your hand to your mouth, which is part of the sign for
good
, and
then
clap your hands. It's like applauding for good words. See why I like languages? They make so much sense.)

Matt signed back, “Great!” (He pointed to his chest with his thumb and wiggled his fingers back and forth — with a broad grin.)

After Matt had put his schoolbooks in his room, he ate a quick snack. I'll give you the sign for the snack. See if you can guess what the snack was. You form your hand into the sign for the letter A, then you pretend to eat your thumb. That's the sign for …
apple
! Eating the letter A. Isn't that great?

Anyway, as soon as Matt was finished eating, I took him and Haley outdoors. I had a plan. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about what happened when the Braddocks and I ran into Mary Anne and Jenny Prezzioso. And I was
determined that Matt and Haley were going to make friends in their new neighborhood. I remembered how horrible Becca had felt when nobody in Stoneybrook would play with her. Then one day Charlotte Johanssen, who's just her age, had come over, and Becca was so happy she barely knew what to do.

I began marching Matt and Haley over to the Pikes' house.

“Where are we going?” Haley asked me.

“We,” I replied, “are going to a house nearby where you will find eight kids.”

“Is one of them my age?” Haley sounded both interested and skeptical.

“Yup,” I replied and suddenly realized that we were leaving Matt out of the conversation by not signing. I told Haley to sign.

“I hope the nine-year-old isn't a boy,” Haley said, hands flying.

(Matt made a face at that.)

“Nope,” I said. “The nine-year-old is a girl. Her name is Vanessa. She likes to make up rhymes.” There was no way I could sign all that, so Haley did it for me, to keep Matt informed. Then she told him where we were going.

“Is there a seven-year-old Pike?” Matt signed.

Haley looked at me.

I nodded. Then I signed
girl
, and Matt made a horrible face. It wasn't a sign, but it could only mean one thing — YUCK!

“Tell him there's an eight-year-old boy,” I said to Haley.

Matt brightened, and I finger spelled
N-I-C-K-Y
.

We had reached the Pikes' front door by then. Matt boldly rang the bell. It was answered by Mallory, and I was relieved. I'd told her we might come over, and I wanted her to help me with the introductions.

“The Barretts are here, too,” she whispered, as we stepped inside. “They're friends from down the street. Buddy is eight and Suzi is five.” She turned to Haley and Matt, said hello, and waved at the same time. She knew that much about signing from me. I loved her for remembering to do it. That's one of the reasons she's my new best friend.

“Well,” said Mallory, “everyone's playing in the backyard.”

We walked through the Pikes' house, waving to Mrs. Pike on the way, and stepped into the yard. It looked like a school playground.

The Pikes and the Barretts all stopped what they were doing and ran to us.

The introductions began.

The signing began.

The explaining began.

The staring began.

And Haley began to look angry again.

I glanced at Mallory. “
Ick-en-spick
,” she whispered. And with that, a wonderful idea came to me. Mallory and I love to read, and not long ago we'd both read a really terrific book (even if it was a little old-fashioned) called
The Secret Language
, by Ursula Nordstrom. These two friends make up a secret language, and
ick-en-spick
is a word they use when something is silly or unnecessary.

“You know,” I said to the kids, “maybe Matt can't hear or talk, but he knows a
secret language
. He can talk with his
hands
. He can say anything he wants and never make a sound.”

“Really?” asked Margo (who's seven) in a hushed voice.

Mallory smiled at me knowingly. “Think how useful that would be,” she said to her brothers and sisters, “if, like, Mom and Dad punished you and said, ‘No talking for half an hour.' You could talk and they'd never know it.”

“Yeah,” said Nicky slowly. “Awesome.”

“How do you do it?” asked Vanessa. “What's the secret language?”

This time, Haley jumped in with the answer.
“It's this,” she replied. She began demonstrating signs. The kids were fascinated.

“Say something,” Claire, the youngest Pike, commanded Matt.

“He can't hear you,” I reminded Claire.

“
I'll
tell him what you said,” Haley told Claire importantly. She signed to Matt.

Matt began waving his hands around so fast that all I could understand was that he was signing about football again.

Haley translated. “Matt says he thinks the Patriots are going to win the Super Bowl this year. He says —”

“No way!” spoke up Buddy Barrett. Haley didn't have to translate that. Matt could tell what Buddy meant by the way he was shaking his head.

Matt began signing furiously again.

“What's he saying? What's he saying?” the kids wanted to know.

Mallory and I grinned at each other. We sat down on the low wall by the Pikes' patio, relieved, and watched the kids.

“Your brothers and sisters are great,” I said.

“When you grow up in a family as big as mine,” Mallory replied, “you end up being pretty accepting.”

“Thank goodness.”

After awhile I looked at my watch and realized that Mrs. Braddock would probably be back from the grocery store soon.

“I better take Haley and Matt home,” I said and began to round them up. But in the end, I only brought Matt home. Haley was having too much fun at the Pikes' to leave, and swore up and down that she knew the way back to her house. I left her teaching the kids how to sign the word
stupid
. I had a feeling there was going to be a lot of silent name-calling in the neighborhood for a while.