When you wake up, your hand is asleep for no discernible reason. It almost hurts to move it, but you force yourself to shake it until the pins and needles vanish.
You keep lying on the bed in the same position you were in when you were asleep, staring up at the ceiling for what could have been a minute or an hour until your mother knocks at the door. You don’t answer right away, but when you hear her cussing through the wall, you finally get out of bed.
She drives you to your school of three days, soon to be four by this afternoon. A woman sings on the radio. When you flip it off, she flips it back on, saying that she loves this song.
You practically jump out of the car when you arrive.
Today, you learn about Otto von Bismarck, the imperfect tense, and ribosomes. You eat leftover pizza for lunch.
At the end of the day, you’re called to the main office.
Your principal, Mr. Reynolds—a short, fat man with a receding hairline— greets you. You nod and force a small smile at an inoffensive joke he makes as he sits you down.
He hands you a whiteboard and a marker, and he asks you about your day, your move, your classes. You write a couple of short answers down on the board.
After a few minutes of this, a boy walks into the room. He’s tall and a little lanky, with blonde, curly hair and a boyish, but handsome face. Mr. Reynolds cheerfully waves at him, and wordlessly gestures for him to sit down beside you.
He takes the board and marker from you, and writes on it, before holding it up to the boy.
‘Hello, Isaac! How are you doing today?’
The boy— Isaac, you’re assuming— takes the board from Mr. Reynolds and writes a reply.
‘Pretty good! Is this who you wanted me to meet?’
He looks at you as he holds up the board. Mr. Reynolds nods.
‘I’m Isaac Harrison. It’s nice to meet you.’ He signs at you, and then it clicks exactly why he’s here, and a bitter feeling curls up in your chest.
Mr. Reynolds speaks up. “I figured you two would appreciate being introduced. I hope you can get on with one another.”
He talks a bit more, before dismissing the both of you.
When you walk out of the office, Isaac is right at your side. The thought of speaking to him isn’t at all enticing, so you try walking a little faster, but he speeds his pace in turn, walking in are with you for a bit before he gently grasps your shoulder.
You jerk away, but then he begins signing at you.
‘I’m sorry that was how we met.’ That gives you pause.
‘He means well, but that probably felt kind of condescending.’ He smiles wryly, before continuing. ‘At least, I kinda felt that way.’
You slowly nod in response. There’s a long pause, before he signs again.
‘That being said, it’s still nice to know that there’s another kid here that uses ASL.’ He smiles at you, and you look away.
‘Do you want to hang out sometime?’ He signs out, hands moving quickly, as if he wanted to finish his sentence as soon as possible. ‘I think it’d be nice. It’s your call, though.’
