From Isaac.
We sent a few messages back and forth after camp, but I mostly haven’t heard from him, since he’s likely busy getting settled into college. Yet, now he’s calling me out of nowhere? I rush up to my bedroom and take a deep breath before answering.
“Oh, hi,” I sign, holding the phone out in front of my face.
“I thought you might need someone to practice your ASL with.” Isaac smiles. He’s calling from his laptop, sitting cross-legged in his new dorm room, with a Cubs poster on the wall behind him.
I grin. “I don’t know, Mackenzie did offer.” I shake my head as I take a seat on my bed, leaning back against the wall and propping my phone up between my knees so I can sign with both hands.
“Don’t worry, we’ll sign and have your ASL perfect, everyone will be amazed at camp next summer. And maybe soon you could come tour Gallaudet, too?” He raises his eyebrows questioningly, and I can sense his anticipation for my answer. “It’d be great to show you around.”
“I’d really like that.” I smile, leaning back against the wall and settling in for our conversation. “So what’s up?”
My hands fly effortlessly, and I can tell that, even though it’s not summer and I’m back to reality, who I was at Gray Wolf is still at my fingertips. It’s not just the fluency, but the confidence. I know who I am. I don’t need to be more hearing or prove my deafness.
I can bring both worlds together. Just being myself, I’m complete.
Author’s Note
Growing up, rather than struggling through spoken conversations, I’d hide away from interactions. You could find me in the corner, devouring a book and seeking comfort in the clarity of the written word.
Yet I was often disappointed with the representation I found there. In the rare references to hearing aids, the devices were typically worn by elderly side characters, whom the protagonists would trick or ridicule. Or if a young character was disabled, they only existed in the story to be pitied or helped by the hero. Why didn’t a kid like me get to be the main character? Why didn’t our experiences get to stand on their own?
The majority of deaf kids have hearing parents. From birth, the odds are against us ever getting access to language or community. In fact, the history of signing itself is fraught with obstacles. Oralism continues to stand in the way of early language access for children. And leaders of eugenics movements, including Alexander Graham Bell, have long wanted to prohibit deaf people from marrying or socializing or even being born.
Therefore, it’s a point of pride that through everything, Deaf culture exists.
Like Lilah, some of my earliest involvements with the community and ASL came from going to a deaf summer camp. Give Me a Sign is by no means representative of all those with hearing loss, since no single novel could possibly encompass our variety of backgrounds and stories. I simply hope it gives readers a glance into the depth and complexities of Deaf culture, as well as an understanding of why I and so many others are proud to be Deaf.
To all my deaf readers, I hope you know your deaf experience is valid, however you identify or communicate. And if you want ASL to be part of your life, it’s never too late to learn. With all the hurdles we face, it’s no wonder that so many of us struggle to understand our place in this world—but I promise, you belong.
Acknowledgments
Getting these words from my brain to your bookshelf was all made possible by many wonderful people:
My incredible agent, Kari Sutherland, who checked more boxes than I’d thought possible during my representation search. I appreciate your editorial eye and willingness to share personal experiences. Thank you for being such a passionate advocate for my work. I can’t wait to see what the future has in store.
Of course, my fantastic editor, Polo Orozco. From our very first chat, immediately, your feedback just clicked, and I knew you would truly elevate this story. Thank you for your enthusiasm and brilliant insights.
I’m also so grateful for everyone whose hard work and dedication helped make this the final book you’re reading today: Cindy Howle, Ariela Rudy Zaltzman, Misha Kydd, Laurel Robinson, Kaitlin Yang, Christina Chung, Amy White, Natalie Vielkind, and Elsa Sjunneson. And for all the support from Penguin, especially from Jen Loja, Jen Klonsky, Shanta Newlin, Elyse Marshall, Felicia Frazier, Emily Romero, Christina Colangelo, Alex Garber, Carmela Iaria, Helen Boomer, Kim Ryan, and their teams.
Shout-out to Signed Ink and my fellow Deaf writers and artists—thank you for helping brainstorm signs that would work simultaneously so that both characters could be utilizing ASL on the cover art. （For those of you who are curious, it’s “right!” and “interesting.”） Thanks also to the community within Disabled Kidlit Writers and the encouraging Lillie Lainoff.
Aiden Thomas, thank you so much for seeing the potential in this story. Without your mentorship, this book wouldn’t be where it is today. And thanks to all those who read versions of this draft, especially Briana Miano, Brighton Rose, Gigi Griffis, and AJ Cosgrove.
Rebecca Johns, your class was a turning point in my life. I’m eternally grateful that you showed me I was capable of writing enough words to fill a novel. And to all my professors and classmates at DePaul, thank you for being there at the start of this publishing adventure, especially Ava Tews and Savy Leiser, who read materials, and Jane Fox, who initially sent me down the right path by saying that my concept was “definitely a YA story.”
My Slack’ers, we’ve weathered so much together. I’m eternally grateful for your friendship and support. I don’t know what I’d do without our internet home. And Alexa Landis, thank you for always being a quick message away.
Camp Lions, thanks for many transformative summers and always welcoming my brother and me with open arms. I promise my time there was never quite as eventful as Lilah’s. Ms. Joy and the team at Children’s, thanks for fostering community and making appointments a delight.
To my parents, thanks for all the library trips, the reading aloud, the book-themed twelfth birthday party, and so much more. And to my grandparents, I’m so glad I got to share this accomplishment with you all. Your love and encouragement mean the world to me.
To @Cara.toons, you’re my number one critic. To Mark, thank you for a favorable ranking in your pool-shift reads. To Luke, sorry there are no cryptids—maybe next time!
Mika and Zuko, for always curling up by my side during late-night editing sessions.
Most importantly, Gabe. I couldn’t have anticipated all the impossible hurdles life would throw at me during the journey to this book’s publication. Without you, I never would’ve made it to the finish line. Thank you.
About the Author
Anna Sortino is a young adult author who writes stories about disabled characters living their lives and falling in love. She’s Deaf and passionate about diverse representation in media. Born and raised in the Chicagoland area, Anna has since lived in different cities from coast to coast, spending her free time exploring nature with her dog or reading on the couch with her cat. Give Me a Sign is her debut novel. You can find her at AnnaSortino.com or @AnnaKSortino.