Her mother smiled again, and so did February. He had always done that.
Well, I should go down to dinner now. Can’t wait to see you!
Me too. Love you.
February hung up and padded into the kitchen, still unable to have a conversation across rooms after all these years. Mel sighed.
The whole point of me calling to you is that you don’t have to get up, Mel said.
But this is nicer, right?—February hooked a finger in Mel’s belt loop, pulling her closer—face-to-face?
No argument here. Hey, you all right?
But February did not want to talk about dementia or her dead dad. So instead of answering, she kissed Mel, and was relieved when she kissed her back. She let her body relax into Mel’s, clinging to the small of her back to bring her closer, until there was no space between them at all. Mel ran a hand up February’s thigh.
The lasagna needs forty-five minutes, said February, and led her toward the bedroom.
classifier trip
ASL Classifier (CL): A handshape that functions as a specialized pronoun. A signer will first say a specific sign, then introduce a classifier as a stand-in through which the signer can more seamlessly elaborate on the size, shape, manner, location, and action. For example, a signer might say “teacher,” then use the classifier for “person” to show how the teacher walked across her classroom. Unlike pronouns in spoken languages, classifiers aren’t just static stand-ins for a word, they can move through space to create a three-dimensional narrative.
NOW YOU TRY!
English: The red car speeds down the street headed right.
ASL: car+ red + (CL: vehicle move fast toward right)
English: The boy walks to the school down the street.
ASL: school + (CL: squat building) + boy + (CL: person shows walking path)
after play practice on Tuesday, plans for a trip into Colson materialized—this had been the pizza Austin was referencing, and Charlie tried to gauge whether she was disappointed or relieved. Together, a small group left the theater and crossed the quad.
Shit. Need to get my wallet.
Part of her expected them to leave without her, but instead, the group followed her back to the girls’ upper dorm without discussion, and stood out front to wait for her, which was sweet and a little embarrassing—she was still the new girl, running behind. In their room, Kayla was sitting with a book in her lap, but staring listlessly at the wall. Her hearing aids—a bulky brown analog set—were beside her on the bed, and she’d dedicated one hand to fiddling with the old-fashioned on-off toggle.
You o-k?
Yeah, fine.
Some of the theater kids are going into Colson for pizza. Fickman signed off. We can add you to the list.
No thanks.
It’ll be fun, maybe.
Kayla pointed to her book.
Big test tomorrow.
Still gotta eat dinner…
Kayla sighed.
I can eat here for free.
You sure you’re o-k?
I’m fine! she said, too forcefully.
Charlie raised her hands to show that she was letting it go.
Just, not really looking forward to Thanksgiving.
Sorry, Charlie said, though she wasn’t quite sure what she was apologizing for.
Not your fault. Anyway, could be worse. My mom’s boyfriend is garbage. But I’ve got a deaf aunt at least.
I had a deaf uncle, I think.
You think?
Never met him. Does your mom sign?
So-so.
Mine doesn’t.
I assumed.
Well, my dad’s been trying.
Now that you’re grown.
You sure you don’t want to come? I can buy.
O-hhhhh R-i-c-h-i-e Rich, said Kayla, though not unkindly.
Charlie dug through her desk drawer and pulled her wallet from the mire.
So you got the hots for King Austin, huh?
What? No.
Not what Alisha says.
Charlie tried not to resent the way everyone at River Valley seemed to know more about her than she did herself.
I don’t know. We’re just friends.
Look, he’s just kind of—
Kayla started to sign something, then stopped and spelled it instead.
E-n-t-i-t-l-e-d. You know?
That’s what Alisha says.
Great minds. Really though—you have to think all that golden boy stuff has gone to his head.
He’s been nice to me.
Of course he has.
What’s that supposed to mean?
I’m just looking out for you.
Show me the sign. E-n-t-i-t-l-e-d.
She did.
So you’ll come? said Charlie.
Thought you drowned in there, said Austin, when Charlie and Kayla turned up.
O-k if I join? said Kayla.
A few people nodded, Alisha with vigor, glad to see her friend. With Kayla they were eight: Austin, Tinker Bell, and two Lost Boys, plus Alisha and a pimply boy named Tim who did lighting. Gabriella, Charlie noticed, was conspicuously absent.
You should bring your roommate! Kayla said.
She was looking at Austin, but elbowed Alisha in the ribs so swiftly afterward it almost became part of the sentence.
He…doesn’t get out much.
Hot and older, Kayla explained to Charlie.
Damaged goods, though, said one of the Lost Boys.
You say, “damaged,” I say “bad boy.”
Charlie was intrigued, but she could see Alisha was mortified and trying to edge her way to the periphery of the conversation, so she let the subject drop. Soon enough, Kayla had turned her attention back to Austin.
Do I need to sign something? The list?
Austin nodded, pulled Fickman’s attendance sheet from his back pocket and a pen from behind his ear.
The group walked down the drive together, and Charlie watched as the others broke into little pods to chat. Austin, unpaired, led the pack and handed the form to Walt. Charlie noticed the easy way Austin approached the guard station, the fact that Walt didn’t question their exodus at all, opened the exit gate without hesitation. Perhaps Kayla’s distaste for Austin was jealousy, but that didn’t mean what she and Alisha had said about him was untrue. And if Austin was the king of River Valley, what did he want with her, besides the obvious? This was something that Charlie had recently found herself turning over in her mind in those moments before sleep, her dorm wall slipping in and out of focus as the time between blinks lengthened. At Jefferson, her standing was clear—she hadn’t fit in, and it had been deafness, great and glaring, that made it so. Now at River Valley, where deafness was the baseline and plenty of kids had implants, her identity had been hollowed out—who was she now that she wasn’t the deaf girl?
They tramped down the hill to the SORTA stop, and when the bus arrived, swiped passes and dumped loose change into payment receptacles while the driver looked on in dismay, though whether he was annoyed by the appearance of a group of students, or by a group of these students in particular, it wasn’t clear. Charlie spent the ride marveling at her classmates’ abilities to surf the lurching bus to keep their hands free for conversation. A few held on and signed in quick and incomprehensible (to Charlie, at least) one-handed bursts, or had one arm hooked around a pole for stability, but most could balance without it, their feet planted in wide stances, knees bent to absorb the pothole jumps. It was hypnotic, and as the bus turned down Colson’s main drag, Charlie rubbed her eyes, dry from staring too long.