Give Me a Sign(78)

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. You don’t understand,” he says, scowling at me.

“Why wouldn’t I understand?”

“Because we’re not the same.” He crosses his arms and looks away again. “Because I’m more deaf than you!”

He’s got the same look I’d seen on Natasha countless times. If Max had shouted this at me even a few weeks ago, it would have cut deep. I reach out and grab his shoulders, turning him back to me.

“Hey. We are in the same boat. Yes, your hearing loss is a little bit more severe than mine, but not much. We still go through the same exact things. We’re in the same family. You’re going to the same schools with many of the same teachers I’ve had before. I’m your older sister, so I’m the one who has to struggle through everything first. You get to learn from my mistakes and benefit from the fact that I’ve already educated some people in our lives along the way.”

He rolls his eyes, but he unfolds his arms. “Fine.”

“Promise me you’ll think about this. It’s okay if you want one. Really. I only want to make sure it’s your decision.”

“I said fine.”

He’s several feet away from me now, and I know I won’t have his attention much longer.

“Don’t do it because the doctors want you to, or even because Mom and Dad want you to. Do it because it’s what you want to do. What you think will make things best for you.”

“Okay,” he says plainly.

“And take time to think about it. You don’t have to rush into anything.”

“Okay-okay,” Max signs with a cheeky smile, trying to make a joke to end my lecture.

“Promise me?” I ask, needing to be sure I’ve gotten through to him.

“Yeah, whatever.” He steps away. But, wide-eyed, he turns back to look at me. “I promise.”

* * *

It’s time to head to the parking lot and say our final goodbyes to all the campers. Phoebe lets me roll her bag up front. The departure window is still a few minutes away, yet her parents are here early, already waiting.

Her dad takes the suitcase, while her mom gives me a smothering hug. “Thanks for helping our girl out,” she says.

“Nah,” I say, unsure how to respond. “It was fun.”

“I got an audiobook for the drive,” her mom says, returning to the passenger seat.

“Keep in touch, kid,” I say to Phoebe.

“I’m your age in, like, three months.”

“Well, I’m eighteen in, like, one month,” I say. “I’ll see you next summer. Don’t forget to tell your parents the great news.”

“You bet,” Phoebe says.

“Add me on Instagram or Twitter or whatever. If you—” I hesitate, unsure if she’s active on social media.

“Yeah, I use them. Screen readers are a thing, you know? Make sure you add alt-text to describe your pictures for me.”

“I’ll add a ‘hi, Phoebe’ at the end.”

She extends her arms wide into the air. “Hey, I’m trying to give you an awkward hug goodbye here.”

I tackle her. “We don’t live too far away, you know.”

Once she’s gone, I hang around the parking lot for a while, feeling largely unneeded. The younger kids are bursting with energy, while their parents were clearly hoping for exhaustion instead.

Honey and Blake come to find me for goodbyes. “Maybe I’ll be your counselor next year,” I say and sign to their delight.

Since Honey’s parents have arrived, I give her a big hug and am pleasantly surprised when Blake approaches her to do the same. “See you next year,” Honey signs to Blake.

“What’d she say?” Blake asks, nudging me.

I’m happy to relay the message. “？‘See you next year.’？”

“That’s what I thought,” Blake says, waving goodbye as Honey walks off.

Despite her late arrival, Blake isn’t the last camper to be picked up. Her dad climbs out of the truck and scratches his head. “Huh, not late this time.”

“Hey, Daddy,” Blake says, waving to him, using the sign for “father” against her forehead.

“I learned some sign language, too,” her dad calls out. He makes a thumbs-up, peace sign, pats his head, and taps his nose. Real amusing stuff. I’m proud that Blake doesn’t laugh.

“I know none of that is right,” she says.

“Toss your stuff in the back,” her dad calls out. “Long drive here and even longer drive back.”

Ethan helps Blake put her stuff in the truck bed. She opens the front passenger door but runs back to hug me and Mackenzie one more time before she leaves.

Max is one of the last campers to be picked up, since my parents probably wanted to let him have as much time at camp as possible, given that he missed an entire month.

“Are you driving back today?” my dad asks me while we wait for Max to say his goodbyes.

“Tomorrow. We’re going to Chicago tonight for an end-of-summer celebration.”

“That’s fun,” my mom says. “And I see you’ve got your hearing aids back in.”

I ignore that comment, seeing as I don’t plan on wearing them all the time now. Especially when I’m relaxing at home, I’ve learned it’s nice to be able to tune out the world around me. But she doesn’t need to know that right now. “Mom, I’ve been thinking, and you should wait a little while before Max gets a cochlear. Give him time to think about it.”