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I look at the drawing and immediately put it in my backpack. I hope that the guys across from me didn’t see what I drew. I don’t need them asking too many questions. I don’t even know why I drew that. I was trying to draw a firetruck, not that.
At this point, I’m starting to have a small panic attack. I don’t want to relive that moment. Go back to that time when I was that small and was controlled.
“Why do you keep lying? Why would you say all those things about him? You are just jealous. Well, jealous, lying little whores stay in the closet until they admit that they lied.”
I still don’t know how long I was in there. When she finally opened the door, she yelled at me to take a shower and go to school. She said if I told anyone what she did, she would tell everyone I was just lying. She reminded me that everyone already hated me and thought I was a liar and an attention-seeker.
I breathe through the memory, but the guys are already giving me worried looks. I shake my head and mouthI’m fine.
The bell rings, so I grab my stuff and head out to my fourth period, American Sign Language.
I know it like the back of my hand, but just like talking, I was never able to use it before. Not for a lack of knowledge, but the lack of people to use it with. The only person I could even use it with was the teacher. No one takes ASL in this school, and if they do, they leave the class with a very rudimentary skill level. It pisses the teacher off, having to teach the class and no one taking it seriously. Half the time, no one shows up because no one cares.
Though I know the teacher keeps it quiet, she and I sign a lot during class. Yes, it’s about the curriculum, but hey, at least I show up and I care. She knows I’m better than what I let her know, but she keeps quiet.
I wasn’t able to come to class yesterday since I was stuck in the principal’s office discussing what is expected of me this year. Every year since eighth grade, he drags me into his office at the start of the fourth period to tell me his expectations for the school year. It’s always the same.
* * *
“Now, Paisley, do you know why I called you into my office?”
I shake my head. At this point, I haven’t been talking for several years. Maybe five or six.
“Since you are in high school, we want to express the type of behavior we expect of you. We know all about the lying little whore you are and what you did several years ago. We will not tolerate any of that kind of behavior here. We expect you to keep your head down. Don’t even think about setting one toe out of line. Don’t talk to anyone. You are gravel to everyone. If they bully you, you are to take it. The only thing I will listen to is if you have a witness that will corroborate your story, but we all know you have no friends in this town.
“I expect you to come to school. Stick to yourself and do not interfere with anyone, understand? I don’t want to have to punish you. Do I make myself clear?”
I shudder at the thought of what he would deem as a punishment. I hold back vomit in my throat and nod my head.
* * *
I never understood how someone could talk to someone like that. Especially an adult to a fourteen-year-old. In fact, how could they not believe an eight-year-old? I wasn’t lying back then. Why would I lie about that?
I pinch myself to stop myself from going further into those thoughts and force my attention back to the present.
“Don’t talk to anyone. We don’t want you spreading more lies.”
Not that anyone would believe me anyway.
Keep my head down so I’m not a disturbance to the other students, their learning experience is of top priority, and stay out of everyone’s way. It’s the same thing every year.
When I glance around the room, I start to have a mini panic attack. Luca and Kade are in this class. Luca, I can see being in this class, because we need a language class to graduate. Now, Kade, on the other hand? I have no idea why he would be in here. Not only are they in this class, but they will realize one of my secrets. They will press for more, and it will most likely get me in so much more trouble.
I can’t get out of this class. Ineedthis class to graduate. I needthisclass. This is my oasis.
I head to an empty seat, of which there are plenty. Including Kade, Luca, and I, there are only six students in the class. I think the other three are Willow, Garett, and Emmett. I glance at Luca, which is the absolute wrong thing to do. He looks at Kade and they do this thing where they seem to be having a conversation without talking. Then they both pick up their things and head to sit next to me. I’m still going through my inner freakout. I do my best not to externalize it and I ignore them.
Mrs. Embers brings the classroom to attention with lights. I’m sure she knows Luca is deaf, but I’m unsure if she is doing it for his benefit or not.
“During class, we are going to have times where talking is not allowed and you can only communicate with ASL. This is a very difficult language to learn. ASL isn’t just about the words you sign; it’s about body gestures and facial expressions as well. You must learn how to use those along with signing. We will work on both of those this semester, but the first thing we are going to work on is the alphabet. That way you can always use fingerspelling, if necessary.”
I try to stay as interested as possible in her lecture but it’s so boring. I learned how to fingerspell the ASL alphabet when I was about eight years old. That was a bad year for me. I remember watching the movieMatildaon the TV once when I was home alone. She would be left at home alone all the time and eventually found the library. She got herself a library card and would bring books home to read all the time. I wanted to be just like her.
Like her, I checked out all kinds of books. After school, I would immediately go to the library and check out books to bring home with me and read in my room, when I was able to finish all my chores. I still read to pass the time, just like I did when I was young. I had to fill that time somehow. Mom didn’t give me any toys after I turned six.
Eventually, Mrs. Embers calls us to turn to the person beside us and try to fingerspell the objects written on the board. Knowing that Luca is beside me, I steel myself and turn toward him. I gesture to him so he can start first.
Luca starts to fingerspell notebook, then pencil, and then he gestures toward me for my turn. I sign the letters for notebook and pencil. Luca signs the letters for folder and marker, then I follow suit. We go back and forth until we finish up everything from the board. Luca waves to get my attention.
