I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. The stress of the day has taken my voice away, and I know that there’s nothing I can do but wait for it to come back right now. Tem grins at me, understanding, and gestures with her head down the road. I nod and we turn to start walking together.
‘Nice outfit choice,’ she says, eyeing me sideways as we go. I am wearing dark jeans, a plain black T-shirt and ankle boots. ‘I can see you’re channelling the Background look. That’s very on trend, I hear. A wonderful choice for the Don’t-Look-At-Me crowd.’
I can’t help smiling, even as I reach out and flick one of her black curls. This is what Tem does. She fills my silences.
‘I brought sweet treats,’ Tem continues as we approach the corner. A crowd of Year 10 boys runs past us, jostling us both as we go.
‘Oi oi, sexy!’ one of them yells at Tem, thrusting his crotch at her. She bursts out laughing. The boy, momentarily devastated, rights himself, swaggers his shoulders and runs off, flicking us both the finger as he goes.
‘What a catch,’ Tem says, deadpan. ‘He’s going to make some girl very happy. For thirty seconds.’ She is wearing a black cotton dress with short sleeves and some kind of gold patchwork at the hem, beaded sandals on her feet, bangles on her wrist. I can see why a Year-10 boy would call her sexy. I’d call her Temmish.
We cross the road and head right down one of the avenues, away from the school uniforms and noise, into the quiet.
‘Oh my God,’ I say, and it feels so good. The sound of the words coming out of my mouth, the way my jaw moves, like it’s getting exercise for the first time all day. I let out a breath and grin. ‘Hi, Tem.’
She grins back, leans over and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Hi, Steffi!’
Tem and I have been best friends since we were toddlers. This was basically decided for us by my mother, which is pretty much the best decision she’s ever made, especially when it comes to me. Mum was working for the Refugee Council at the time, which is how she met Ebla, Tem’s mother. When she found out that Ebla had a daughter the same age as me, she suggested we meet. And that was that.
Over the next few years – which included my parents’ divorce and respective remarriages; my sudden, total silence; Clark’s death; and so much else – we bonded so tightly we are like part of each other. Steftember, my dad used to call us. Through so much confusion and turmoil in our lives, we have always had each other.
‘So tell me everything,’ Tem says, leading me into the children’s playground – deserted as always – and taking her usual seat in the middle of the merry-go-round. She arranges the two Starbucks cups in front of her and opens the paper bag, pulling out some kind of cake and splitting it in two with her hands. She looks up and throws me a quick grin.
‘Millie Gerdavey cheated on Jack Cole again,’ I say, taking a sip from my cup and smiling. She’s delivered me a caramel mocha. Extra sugar, extra caffeine. She must be worried about me.
‘Good for her,’ Tem says, shrugging. ‘Anything actually interesting?’
I laugh. Tem is basically immune to gossip, which is one of her best and worst traits.
‘OK, well, not really.’
‘Oh, no way!’ Her face drops. ‘All these years looking at the sixth formers and wishing we were them and now you’re telling me it’s not actually interesting?’
‘It’s not. It’s like the rest of school, except we don’t have to wear uniform. Which is a bonus, obviously. But still. Today was mainly intro stuff, anyway. Like, getting reading lists and timetables and stuff.’
‘How many words did you say today?’
I think about it. ‘Less than twenty, more than ten.’
‘Hmmm.’ Tem makes a face. ‘I guess that’s OK for your first day without me. I thought it might be less. Or, like, none.’
‘I met a boy,’ I say.
She is instantly alert. I swear her whole body snaps to attention. ‘What?’
‘I met a boy,’ I repeat, just to annoy her.
‘Stefanie!’ She flaps her hands at me. ‘Tell me everything. And I mean everything. Immediately. And – God – I hope some of those less-than-twenty-more-than-ten words were said to him.’
‘Actually, they weren’t,’ I say, enjoying the opportunity to wind her up for once. ‘I was entirely silent. So was he.’ I consider, then add, ‘Almost.’
She squints her face into a frown, like she’s trying to see inside my head. Finally, suspiciously, she says, ‘But you met him?’
‘He’s deaf,’ I say, and her face unfolds.
‘Oh.’ Understanding lights in her eyes. ‘Cool! So you were signing? That’s so great, Steffi. I always thought you should’ve carried that on.’
I ignore this, because the whole should-Steffi-sign-or-not issue was bad enough the first time round, and take a bite of the cake she’s brought. It’s some odd mix of doughnut and apple turnover, and it tastes like joy. ‘His name’s Rhys,’ I say. ‘Mr Stafford introduced us because I know some BSL.’
‘That makes sense. So? What’s he like? You know I want the details.’
‘Nice,’ I say. ‘Friendly. Really friendly, actually.’
‘I meant visually,’ Tem says, waving her hand. ‘Obviously.’
I smile. ‘Also nice to look at.’