MATERIALS NEEDED:
Wire strippers
Solder wire
Soldering iron
Incandescent bulb
Battery
Wax sealant
Low explosive powder
Analog clock or travel watch
Optional: Alligator clips, rosin
INSTRUCTIONS:
Solder wires to contacts on lightbulb base. （For a step-by-step guide to soldering, see Chapter 7.） After the connection is complete, ensure contacts are working using a battery. Disconnect from battery before continuing.
Create a small hole in the tip of the incandescent bulb to fill with low explosive. Any low explosive works fine here—black or smokeless powder can be obtained legally in many U.S. states with lenient fireworks laws.
CAUTION: Even low explosive powder can be powerful in this squib. Handle with care.
Reseal bulb opening using wax sealant.
Attach the remaining wire ends to your analog watch or clock device to complete your detonator.
Note: The squib will be most effective when centered in the device.
tuesday evening, February returned to Old Quarters, exhausted. It had been twenty-four hours since the summit where she and Swall delivered the news that River Valley would be shuttered. In return, she had received mostly icy stares it was hard not to read as resentment. She knew sadness and shock were the more likely realities—her teachers were bright, generous people, savvy about the ways in which the system so relentlessly failed them. They wouldn’t scapegoat her, even as she blamed herself.
Now it was only a matter of time before the news spread to the students. She scheduled a schoolwide assembly for Friday, but she wasn’t sure they’d make it that long. It would be difficult to keep the kids from seeing a conversation in the hall not meant for them. She had drawn up a list of action items for what might come after: walk-in hours for Phil, her, and the guidance counselor, literature to send to the families about working with home districts in the fall. It all looked laughably inadequate on a single sheet of paper like that, and of course it was.
It had been three days since she’d spoken to Mel. She was a little frightened by the number. Usually when they were fighting, Mel couldn’t help but message February after a few hours, even if it was just to issue a fresh batch of insults to pierce the silence. Then again, this wasn’t your average spat. And February was so squarely in the wrong; part of her knew she would have to be the first to make a move. She just had no idea how to explain her own deceit.
It had been five hours since she’d last seen Charlie Serrano, a number she was not keeping track of in the moment but would return to calculate later. She had video-chatted with her and gone over the latest slides from her course, a series on the Deaf President Now! protests. Charlie had looked significantly less ill, had spoken of her desire to return to campus soon, and was completely enraptured by the story of the student takeover of their university. This had warmed February—it was an iconic event, a centerpiece in Deaf mythology, and a master class in direct action. When Charlie had asked a string of questions—What does “hot-wiring” mean? How did the students know how to hot-wire? What’s a r-e-p-r-i-s-a-l?—February had even allowed herself a few moments of pride—the girl had come such a long way. The thought of Charlie having to return to Jeff in a few months depressed her.
The front-facing wall of Old Quarters had been left exposed, without plaster, and February turned to it now to feel the familiar freestone, cold and furrowed. She let her finger fall into a gulley of mortar between the stones, followed its path. The grit accumulated beneath her nail and she felt bad, and then foolish—as if deteriorating grout was the source of River Valley’s peril. She wondered what would become of these buildings, vessels that had carried her people through so much. She imagined the city demolishing them and building a strip mall, or turning the dorms into lofts, and couldn’t decide which was worse. She hoped they might be allowed to decay in peace, at least for a while, for the roofs to cave in and the walls to be overrun by thick, woody vines—for the artifacts and stories to be swallowed back into the earth the way it was for all lost civilizations. She patted the wall tenderly, as if to thank it for a job well done, and watched the sun set over the quad.
role shift: become one with your story
Role shift is a grammatical component of ASL in which a signer uses body, head tilt, and eye gaze, along with other affective traits, to assume the role of another person or object in a narrative. For example: Shoulder shift: in basic role shift, a signer shifts their shoulders and body to the left to establish one character or speaker, then to the right to establish another.
Head tilt and eye gaze: these can be used to illustrate physical height or authority. For example, tilting the head up as if to look at someone taller, and back down to address someone smaller, could indicate a conversation between a teacher and a student.
A skilled storyteller can use role shift, along with facial expression, signing speed, size, space, dialectic word choice, and other mannerisms to fully transform into an array of characters.
DID YOU KNOW? Role shift isn’t just for people. Deaf storytellers frequently embody nontraditional perspectives like animals, plants, buildings, and all kinds of inanimate objects to tell a three-dimensional story.
austin was staring at the blinking cursor in his still-blank lab report, thinking that perhaps if he flunked all his classes he could drop out and be spared a transfer to Jeff, when he noticed a sharp beam of light outside his window.
Do you see that?
Eliot, who was closer to the window, looked up.
Yeah, it’s your girlfriend, he said nonchalantly.
Austin jumped from the bed and went to open the window, where he was pleasantly surprised to find Charlie standing in the hedge, shining her phone’s flashlight in his face.
What are you doing? he said, squinting into the light.
Sorry, she said, lowering the phone. You busy?
She leaned in and kissed him. He offered his arms to steady her as she climbed into the room.
When did you get back?
Right now.
Are you, like…o-k to be back?
You’re not happy to see me?
Of course I am.
He closed the window and shade, led her to his bed. They kissed again, and she let him run his hand the length of her thigh before stopping him. Across the room, Eliot had returned to his laptop glaze. Austin waved a hand to catch his attention.
Mind if we have a minute?
Sure, Eliot said.
He scooped up his computer and ambled out into the common room, and Austin and Charlie picked up where they’d left off, Austin sliding his hand beneath her shirt, slowly, as if counting vertebrae, until he reached her bra.
O-k?
She nodded. He unhooked the clasp and Charlie climbed on top of him and pulled off her shirt.
* * *
—
Afterward, they lay atop the comforter for a precious few minutes, Charlie in the crook of his arm. It was an irresponsible thing to do with bed checks looming, but that made it all the more pleasurable. He would never tell anyone, but this was actually the thing he liked most about sex, the bright high afterward that bleached the outside world from sight. It was difficult to sign lying this way, but that was another part of it—their bodies still so close together, they didn’t need to.
It was too short a moment for his liking. Their sweat cooled, Charlie shivered. He could feel her fingerspelling something into his chest: