Whisper (13 page)

I introduce Keisha and Erica to the old gang. It's fine.Everyone is nice to each other. They talk to each other.My hearing friends make sure Erica and Keisha can see their faces as they talk about the exhibitors. My deaf friends follow the conversation. Erica is chatting away like she's known my old friends forever.

I breathe and relax, because I was wrong, wasn't I? Because my old friends aren't judgmental, and both sets of friends are good people. No-one is out to make fun of anyone.

Stavros gets out his mobile and types something on the screen. He holds it out to show me.

Small party my place fri nite. Wanna come?

It's a written confirmation of my thoughts. Everything is just fine. It's frustrating that Stella isn't here to see it.

Their teacher, one I don't know, calls the gang away. I nod and give Stavros the thumbs up as they go.

‘Nice hearies,' Keisha signs.

The sign for hearies looks completely different in Keisha's hands compared to Stella's version. For one thing, Keisha is smiling. For another, she only uses her index finger and not the devil's ears that Stella uses.

I smile at Keisha. They are my friends, those hearies.They are not the enemy. They will always include me.

I turn and see Stella. She's actually only a metre or so behind me, a position that would have made it possible to read Stavros' text. I wonder if she did.

If she did, it hasn't stopped her cynical expression. It seems to have made it worse, if anything.

It's really annoying. But I decide it's best to just ignore it.

chapter 17

Ethan hasn't contacted me. He's had my number since Tuesday afternoon, now it's Thursday afternoon. I let myself stress that Keisha might have written the number down wrong or that he's lost it, but the stronger thought is that he's decided he doesn't want to contact me.

He's probably had second thoughts about seeing a deaf girl.

I walk up the street to my house. I want to have a shower, get out of my school clothes, relax.

Then I see Jules' motorbike. It's parked beside Dad's ute in the driveway.

Jesus. I don't know if I can face him yet. I still feel like an idiot after what I did. I don't think he would just turn up without being invited, so Mum will have asked him over.I'm guessing she'll have a reason.

Thanks, Mum.

I can't help walking over to his bike, lifting up the seat.There's the key, like always. Our street is pretty safe, pretty suburban, but people don't usually leave their keys in their cars or their doors unlocked.

Jules thinks that no-one will steal his bike or anything inside the seat because
he
believes it. His ask-the-universe thing again.

And it seems the universe obeys him.

I walk down the driveway, squeezing between the house and the fence, and creep in the back door. I don't think I'm making much noise, though I have to struggle through some tree branches.

I must be doing OK because I manage to unlock the back door and get into my bedroom without anyone seeing. I even manage to get changed out of my school clothes.

I wonder what they're talking about out there?

Me, I assume.

If I go out there, at least I'll find out why he's here. But I still don't know what to say, how to explain what happened at the market.

I don't even notice my phone buzzing on the dressing table. I just check it out of habit and see I have a message.I don't recognise the number. I allow myself to hope as I open the message.

Hi Demi. I really wanted to talk to you in person, but I'm probably not going to run into you unless you go to footy practice again so I thought maybe I should text. I'm wondering if I could maybe meet you after school on Monday. I can't do tomorrow or the weekend because I'm going away with my dad,but if you could come on Monday then maybe we could meet at the milk bar or something. Sorry it's such a long message. Oh and it's Ethan here.

It
is
a long message. I have to keep scrolling down and down.

And then I have to go back up and start again. Just to check it's real.

I am being asked out. By Ethan.

I
so
don't feel like I did a minute ago. I can go out there now. I think I can even face Jules.

I don't know if I should wait before I text back, if a quick reply might show I'm too keen. But I decide I don't care.

Sounds good. C u at the milk bar Monday.

I almost send it like that. But I want to add more. It seems too bare compared with his cute, long text. So I add,

Oh and it's Demi here.

I press send. And then I head out of my room to find the others.

Jules is having a beer with Dad. His leather jacket rests on the back of a chair at the dining table. He is wearing jeans and a grey T-shirt with a print of Pac-Man on it. Retro cute.

But it strikes me that he's cute in a way that's too old for me. And he's not Ethan.

Jules is talking and Dad is listening. I have no idea what it's about, but Dad looks interested. As soon as he sees me, Jules switches to sign.

‘Hi, D. Great to see you.'

He steps towards me and gives me a hug. What happened at the market squeezes in between us. I want it gone.

Mum waves from the door, all casual, as though Jules just happened to drop by.

‘Jules was just telling us his exciting news,' she signs.

I look at Jules, waiting for the news.

‘Laura and I are going overseas for two months. Central A-m-e-r-i-c-a. We're going to start in M-e-x-i-c-o and then go to C-o-s-t-a R-i-c-a.'

He finger spells all the place names slowly, even though there are signs for most of these countries, so Mum and Dad can keep up.

Laura is probably his girlfriend. Of course she is.

Jules continues with his itinerary.

‘I'm going to get a drink,' I sign during a break in the naming of countries.

Mum and Dad both have a lot to say about South America.They went there on their honeymoon. They will be desperate to tell Jules about their trip to the great ruins of Machu Picchu. I heard it about a million times before I went deaf.

I pour a drink, and stay inside the kitchen. From here, I can still see them, but no-one is paying any attention to me.They are all chatting away. It must be so much
easier
for them when they don't have to sign.

I sip my juice. My eyes are on Jules, and I think about the fight with Nadia, and how it sort of started me going all weird on Jules.After the fight, I felt more connected with Jules than ever.He was the only one who really understood me, who made me feel like I could have a normal life. With him, I could negotiate the hearing world. Only with him.

And he was cool and cute. That didn't hurt.

When I ran back across the oval, away from Nadia and Shae, Jules was there. It felt like he was there to rescue me.I wanted Nadia and Shae to see him greeting me. I wanted them to see that
he
was happy to see me. He was happy to explain things to me. He had his leather jacket on, the one that's on the back of a chair in our dining room now, so I knew he was about to leave for the day.

‘You OK?' he asked.

I flicked the tears away. ‘Running. The wind,' I said lamely, and I was grateful that he didn't push it. I saw that he understood in the small furrowing of his eyebrows.

‘Want to come to the market after school on Thursday?' he asked. ‘We'll learn the weird fruits and veggies. Ask your parents if you can come on the bike. I'll bring a spare helmet.'

It was like an antidote, squeezing out the poison of what had happened with Nadia. Thursday, after school, on the bike. I clung to it for the next few days.

Jules had taught me lots of signs in context, so the invitation wasn't that unusual. But he didn't need to take me on his bike. I could have met him there.

Thursday afternoon came, eventually, and I was on the back of Jules' bike in the school car park, with all the gang watching us. I had my arms around Jules' waist and my legs wrapped around his. It was my first time on a motorbike, and I was a bit scared, but I trusted him. I leaned into his back as we took the corners. When we got to the market, I found myself wishing it was further away.

We walked through the market together. That's all I needed, just me and Jules. I stood close, wanting to hold onto the feeling of being on the bike with him. Jules showed me the signs for loads of less common foods. ‘Dragonfruit' was the funniest. Fire from both nostrils. It isn't even that funny in English. Only in sign. Only with Jules.

When we sat down for a coffee, Jules suggested a cafe with booths. I kept thinking he could have chosen a cafe with regular chairs, but he didn't.

I sat beside him. When our coffees were served, I slid closer, so that our arms were touching from the shoulders right down to our elbows. My heart beat a little faster at the touch.

Then he looked at me. I will never forget that look. It's ironic because Jules was the one who taught me to read faces, to focus on expressions and body language. He's the one who explained how they betray people's real feelings, no matter what they say with words.

I saw Jules bite the inside of his lip. His eyes opened wider, almost imperceptibly. And then, slowly, he moved his body away from me. Only a few centimetres, but enough to show me he knew what I was doing and he wanted me to stop it.

Enough to explode my idiotic fantasy.

‘D,' he began signing, and I could see him choosing his words carefully. ‘Sometimes people get confused about their feelings when someone's helping them. Like a teacher or a therapist …'

I refused to watch him sign anymore. I couldn't bear to watch him sign anymore. I got up and walked away.

Afterwards, I just pretended it hadn't happened. In the last days at my old school I acted as though I didn't need him. Or I tried to.

When I left, I thought I wouldn't have to see him again.But that's not what I want. Not really. Jules has been a good friend. The best, really. It's just me who's been the nutbag.

Mum comes into the kitchen. Her expression is questioning, impatient, asking why I've been out here so long. I watch as she grabs a tea towel and opens the oven. When she looks inside the casserole dish, she screws up her face in a way that suggests something has gone wrong with our dinner.She adds a splash of red wine and I can see why, though I'm not much of a cook. It looks really dry.

I brace myself and walk back into the dining room behind Mum. She serves and I play waitress. Dad and Jules sit next to each other. Mum and I sit opposite.

‘So, J-u-l-e-s, how is your sister?' Mum talks and signs between mouthfuls.

The casserole isn't as bad as it looks, but the direction of Mum's questioning is a worry.

‘Good.' Jules talks and signs too. ‘Bridge just got a promotion. She's the marketing manager of the whole state.'His signing of ‘whole' is big and proud.

‘She's done so well,' Mum enthuses. I roll my eyes.It's ridiculous that she's so enthusiastic about the success of someone she doesn't know, just because that someone is deaf. But I know it will come back to me.

Jules tells us how Bridget manages at work. She can talk, so she uses a phone relay service if she needs to make calls.She speaks to an officer at the relay service, then they type the response from her clients into a textphone. Most of the time, though, her job is about developing strategies for her staff.

It's great. I'm happy for her. As much as I can be when I'VE NEVER EVEN MET HER!

But Mum is an eagle. She's been hovering over Bridget's success story. Now she goes in for the kill.

‘Didn't she go to a regular school? Hasn't she always been integrated? And she was deaf from birth, wasn't she?'

Mum already knows the answers. She hardly waits for Jules to nod before she continues, but she's getting carried away and she forgets to sign and it's impossible for me to follow it all.

I get ‘opportunities' and ‘isolation' and ‘big world' and I decide that I don't care what I'm missing.

Then Jules' hand appears in front of me. He gives me a look. It's his narrow-eyed, ‘be patient' look. Now he chooses to sign without speaking. I know it's meant as a reminder to Mum. I know it's meant to include me.

‘You know, going to a regular school was B's choice, but many others do well going to a deaf school. B has a friend –'

‘Yes,' Mum interrupts. She's taken Jules' hint and is signing again. ‘But don't you think there's more scope if you go to a regular school. More opportunities?'

She mis-signs ‘opportunities'. It should be her left hand held up sideways, palm facing her. The index finger of her right should stick up and rise up behind her left hand. She has her index finger up, but it's travelling downwards. It's kind of the reverse of what she's trying to say.

I like it when Jules corrects her, showing how the sign should work.