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.
They poured from the bus into the center. Now, from her place in the middle of a pack, she saw Colson afresh. The city was sun drenched, warm enough for just a windbreaker even in late November, State Street’s brick fa?ades awash in magic hour orange. Her classmates were rowdy, bumping into one another, jumping and running ahead and then back again, joining different pockets of conversation.
Some of the stores were pure kitsch, all lawn ornaments and wind socks, but there was also a quaintness about the city’s core businesses—the Chipped Cup’s vintage aluminum sign, and the Moorlyn Theater’s marquee; even Starbucks and Skyline Chili had gone with muted versions of their corporate colors to fit in on the block. If she were here with her parents, she would have found this disingenuous, but now she felt a sudden flash of pride in her city. She was glad to live here.
But if Charlie was seeing Colson anew, it returned its gaze differently, too. At first, she almost liked the feeling of strangers’ eyes on them. Sure, they weren’t like other kids, but look, there was a bunch of them, there was power in that. And she was in on the secret. Unfortunately, Steele’s Candy wasn’t a fan of their collective power, and swiftly ejected them from the store. Out on the corner, they regrouped. A shoulder tap. Charlie turned to find Austin chewing on a thick rope of licorice. He held out a piece to her.
Hey.
Hey.
Missed you yesterday. How you feeling?
Better, thanks, she said.
She accepted the candy, sticking one end in her mouth.
What’s new with you?
Austin shrugged, then reached to brush a stray hair from her eyes. Something about the tenderness of the gesture made her throat feel tight. It seemed like a thing a thoughtful person would do, not a spoiled one.
I want to know about you. True biz, I have a very important question for you.
The knot in her throat swelled. Whatever it was, she hoped he signed it small.
What’s your favorite pizza?
Charlie laughed.
Super important.
It’s not funny! It’s c-r-i-t-i-c-a-l knowledge.
That’s easy. Pepperoni.
You like the classics.
Why mess with the best?
Have you tried bacon?
On pizza? Gross, no.
They’re both pork!
You’re not one of those people who thinks p-i-n-e-a-p-p-l-e goes on pizza, are you?
What’s wrong with pineapple?
Charlie made a face and a playful push at his shoulder, but he was more solid than she’d been expecting, and she let her hand linger there. He brought his hand up to meet hers, ran his fingers along her wrist. She let herself be drawn into the greenwater wells of his eyes. Maybe it’d been a mistake to dodge his kiss when she’d had the opportunity, out on the loading dock all those weeks ago. In fact, she would’ve liked nothing more than for him to lean in right this moment and—