Chapter Three
Shit on it.
So much for the epic new start I promised myself when curling up in bed last night.
This morning, I was jolted from a fitful sleep by the sunlight glaring impatiently through the open curtains, my back aching from adjusting to a foreign mattress.
The unmade bed and pile of brightly-colored abandoned outfits opposite were the only evidence my roommate had returned so late last night that I have yet to meet her.
Hunting for my phone, my heart plummeted to find it had fallen through the gap between the mattress and headboard, vibrating soundlessly on the carpet beneath the bed.
Realizing I was running an hour late, I’d mentally slapped myself, skipped breakfast and it’s all gone downhill from there.
I bet my implant receivers are having a lovely day though, chilling on the dresser where I stupidly left them.
But I did manage to dress appropriately, my #Antisocial t-shirt reflecting my current mood perfectly.
Despite sending several emails to the professors about not needing any special treatment, I knew starting in a new school wouldn’t be a smooth process.
For the most part, people generally go out of their way to make anyone remotely different feel included, which is great for others.
Not for me. I’ve had to stay behind with two separate professors this morning for a discussion about unnecessary over-pronunciations, and speaking in slow motion with a tone only whales could understand.
My phone has been working hard duetting as a microphone and Aunt Marge gave me plenty of lip-reading practice over the years.
Currently, I’m sat in physiology, where the professor is dragging her feet back and forth behind her desk with the slowness of an elderly slug.
Professor Vickers is a frail woman, with giant circular glasses and even bigger hair.
Her greyed curls stick out in all directions and bounce as she steps, appearing as if she’s been electrocuted.
Physiology isn’t the most appealing of subjects at the best of times, but with her brittle tone, I might just about die of boredom each and every day.
I stopped listening to her voice filtering through my phone a little while back and started doodling an image of me being hung on an execution dock instead.
Bodies all around suddenly begin to pack up, signaling the end of this torture.
Gathering my books into my backpack, I slump down the wooden steps of the curved lecture hall and grab my phone from the professor’s desk.
She catches my eye, seeming to want to speak to me but I avoid any further conversation with a solid thumbs up before ducking out of the room.
There’s a bustling line of students filing the hallway, all seeming to head in the same direction that I want to go – to the cafeteria.
The walls are thrumming with laughter, my vision filled with easy smiles and playfully bumping shoulders.
I’m quick to shut off my phone, preferring to shuffle along in blissful silence.
Maybe I’ve become prejudiced, or maybe I’ll just never forget the overwhelming crush of metal on metal and the high-pitched screech from my mother before my hearing cut me off from the world around me.
But I prefer my solitude. No matter where I am, I have my own cocoon of peace.
No false words or bitchy comments or ill intentions. I’m oblivious to it all.
I follow a group through the double doors and across the courtyard.
The sun has already begun to set, leaving heavy, grey clouds behind for another dismal evening.
The four buildings surrounding us in a rectangle fall into shadow so they look more like haunted halls than the vibrant college from the online brochure.
Fat raindrops land on my face and create a growing constellation across the path as the hurried footsteps ahead come to an abrupt stop by the central fountain.
I pull up short, straining to see what the holdup is.
There’s an awkward dance of bumping bodies and sidestepping, surely encased in confused chatter I can’t hear.
Ducking aside, I swing myself up onto the lip of the fountain.
The vantage point provides a much clearer view of what’s causing the chaos, and it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I’ve only met him once, but I recognize him in an instant.
Rhys Waversea is standing in front of the cafeteria entrance, his arms crossed as he shrewdly scans the masses of students before him.
He has an entourage of bulky jocks, permitting entry to only a few a time.
Three guesses who he’s looking for.
The cold bites through my jeans. Rain is falling harder now, fat drops smacking my hood and slickening the courtyard. The clouds are ready to split open. And I am so not ready to be caught in the middle of whatever the hell this is.
I turn to hop down from the fountain, every instinct screaming at me to slip away unnoticed before Rhys’s calculating eyes sweep the crowd and land squarely on me, the new girl already drawing more attention than she ever wanted.
But fate isn’t on my side today. My foot slips on the slick edge of the stone twisting sharply beneath me.
A jolt of pain rushes up my leg so sudden and sharp that I barely have time to gasp before I lose all sense of gravity.
My balance vanishes completely in a breathless moment, the world tipping sideways, the blur of students and grey sky rushing past me as I brace for the unforgiving impact of the cold, hard floor. Although, the impact never comes.
Instead, I crash against a solid weight which grabs onto me without falter. Strong arms wrap around my body like a shield, sheltering me from the rain and nearby stares. It might be that the air is already knocked from my lungs, but staring up into the face of my hero, I forget how to breathe.
He’s tall and broad, sandy blonde hair poking out of a beanie hat. His jaw is sharp, his muscles evident by the way he’s holding me without any sign of strain, but it’s his eyes that captivate me. Endless, black eyes like that of a wild animal, dangerous yet oddly reassuring.
Rain soaks through both our clothes, the shift of movement closing in all around, but I let him hold me for longer than necessary. For the first time since I stepped foot on this campus, I feel completely still, cocooned and protected from the world I’ve learnt to fear.
“Are you okay?” his lips say. My gaze lingers on his mouth before flicking back up to his eyes. He’s watching me with quiet focus and growing concern. I manage to nod, remembering myself and what I was originally running from. Shit, Rhys might have seen or heard the commotion building around us.
I pull away with a desperate sort of urgency, stumbling slightly as I untangle myself from the stranger’s arms and murmur something I doubt he even hears before I turn and disappear into the crowd.
My ankle aches with each step but I don’t slow down, weaving between bodies and darting beneath the shelter of the courtyard’s archway, my hood pulled low to hide the flush burning in my cheeks.
The rain has picked up now, falling in thick sheets that blur the lights above and soak the path ahead.
I jog all the way to McAllister Halls with the growing wind knocking off my hood and raindrops striking my eyes like spears.
Once inside, the lights flicker on as I use the banister to pull myself up to the first floor.
I can’t tell if I’m trembling from the cold or lack of food as I pull the key from my backpack with shaky fingers.
Pushing inside the door, I stop short as a head of fuchsia pink hair twists to look at me.
Her warm, brown eyes soften as she smiles, silver dermal studs creating dimples on either cheek.
Colorful tattoos are poking out from the neckline of her blue onesie, the face of Stitch hanging loosely on the hood.
But none of that is what caught my attention.
An open pizza box is laying upon her crossed legs, the smell drawing into the room.
“Want some?” She signs and it takes me a moment to realize she knows more about me than I do her.
Pressing the door closed with my back, an awkward moment passes between us until she points to my receivers sitting on the desk.
“I took ASL in high school for extra credit,” she shrugs and offers me the pizza box again.
Too hungry to question the coincidence, I wriggle out of my hoodie and lift a slice to my mouth.
Holy mother of grease, it’s like a cheese topped medal after the marathon of a day I’ve had.
I know I’m moaning despite not being able to hear it.
After demolishing the first and a second piece, I quickly shower and change into my softest pajamas before dropping down on my roommate’s bed.
Any hesitation about meeting my roommate fled when I let my blood sugars run too low, not that she seems to mind.
Her smile is still in place as I continue to moan around mouthfuls of gooey goodness.
“I’m A-D-D-Y,” she finger spells, “but this is my sign name.” Addy holds one hand palm up and cups the other into a C, rounding it above slowly whilst mouthing ‘chalk’.
“Given to me by a six-year-old at deaf camp I volunteered in last summer. She thought I colored in my skin each morning with the sidewalk chalks.” I grin along as Addy lifts her sleeves to reveal each arm covered in vibrant flowers and patterns.
When she looks back to me, I suddenly realize I have yet to respond.
“I’m Harper, no sign name.” I say out loud and look away to avoid her frown.
Sign names are one of the highest forms of honor amongst the deaf community, and since I’ve been hidden away for most of the last decade, I haven’t had the chance to meet others like me except for online courses and video calls.
Our phones vibrate at the same time beside the now empty pizza box, the college’s app I was told to install flashing up on my screen. As well as delivering general news, the app allows all students to communicate anonymously on its own messaging platform.
Avoid Cafeteria, huge hold up by R.W. - BrandiM.
Addy tosses her phone aside with a roll of her eyes.
“If Rhys were lucky enough for one, his sign name would be-“she shakes her closed hand back and forth to mimic masturbating and then signs for a stain. I burst out laughing, my hair failing forward to tickle my ankles. I’ve never hung out with a girl like this, yet it feels so casual.
Even before the accident, I would have sooner been tree climbing with the boys from the neighborhood than window shopping in the mall.
“He’s looking for me,” I sign back. “He was assigned as my mentor but he thinks I’m blind.
” Addy’s eyebrows rise as she giggles, sitting forward as if I just became her new favorite sitcom.
Unnerved by the idea, the smirk drops from my face.
“You won’t…. tell anyone, right? I’m not ashamed, the opposite actually.
I love myself the way I am. But I hate when people treat me differently for no reason. ”
Addy is already nodding before I’ve finished signing, her eyes glistening with understanding.
Taking my hands in hers, I read her lips as they move.
“Not my business to tell.” I sag forward in relief, which Addy takes as an opportunity to pull me into a hug.
It’s an odd sensation I lean into, using her comfort to chase away the heaviness of my shitty day.
I’d prepared myself as much as possible to enter the real world, to be shunned by most while powering through my degree.
Many evenings of catch-up revision in my dorm and sitting alone at mealtimes, but I hadn’t considered I might actually make a friend so easily.
One who is my roommate no less. Maybe I don’t have to remain so guarded all the time.
Just maybe, I might not have to simply survive. I might actually be accepted.