Whisper Read Free

of my school shoes and give a snort of disbelief. What the –?
    I was obviously wrong about her seeming normal.
    Everyone in class looks up, not like the teacher’s off her head, just like she’s got their attention.
    I realise suddenly that everyone seems too happy for a Monday. Too happy to be at school at the beginning of a new year. And year eleven, when everything matters so much.
    I wonder for the millionth time whether I will ever be happy again.
    â€˜A big welcome,’ the teacher says, with her mouth and her hands, ‘to D-e-m-i.’
    She finger spells my name, letter by letter. Her thumbs are outstretched, her palms and fingers working in front of her chest.
    The other students have gone back to their conversations.
    The teacher drums her feet again, and throws her hands in the air. I almost expect her to tap dance across the floorboards. But it’s a cue, obviously. My face flushes red as a classroom of hands welcomes me. The three sitting in front welcome me without turning around.
    The teacher wags a finger at them, mock disapproval on her face, before she smiles at me. She has a nice smile.Then she turns around and writes her name on the board.Helena. It suits her.
    She passes out a timetable to each of us. The school letterhead is printed in bold. The logo is the same as the one on my blazer pocket.
    COLLEGE FOR THE DEAF

chapter 3
    In hospital there was a competition for the cheeriest smile.It was run by a clown in the children’s ward, where I moved after intensive care. The clown started off getting the kids to do a sad face, then a surprised one, then an angry one.Then they had to give their biggest smile.
    My new classmates would have won hands down, the way they wear their feelings splashed over their faces.
    The clown had stood at the end of my bed, all painted and determined and upbeat.
    I didn’t win. What on earth was there to be cheery about?I had just been pronounced profoundly deaf.
    Profoundly deaf, as in: a piercing scream is like a mosquito buzzing.
    As in: I can’t hear anyone talk.
    As in: stuffed.
    I wonder if any of my new classmates lost their hearing the way I did. I doubt it. What happened to me was very rare. Extraordinary. Go me.
    Helena stands in front of my desk, patiently, like she’s been waiting for me to return from my thoughts for a while.She taps the desk, the rhythm way slower than my racing heart.
    â€˜Do you know where the next class is?’ she signs.
    I’m relieved her signing is slow and clear. It’s taken me a while to get used to the way sign sentences are formed.Often the topic of the sentence is signed at the beginning, so if I miss that, it’s hard to work out what’s being said.Sometimes I can’t work it out at all. Jules taught me how to fill in the gaps but mostly it’s just practice.
    I shake my head. Helena turns my timetable around so she can read it.
    â€˜Follow,’ she signs, and nods her head towards the two girls nearby.
    She walks over to them. I can’t see what they’re saying, but the three of them go on for a while. Then Helena stands back so she can see us all and waves us off. I feel like we’re being shooed away. I can’t imagine any of my old teachers making a gesture like that. It seems kind of rude, like we are cattle being herded around.
    But the other girls don’t seem to take offence. They just look over at me as they get up and walk out.
    I wait a moment, keeping my head down. Slowly, I gather my stuff and head out. The sunshine is bright. I shield my eyes.
    Someone smacks my arm.
    â€˜I’m E-r-i-c-a,’ the smacker says, finger spelling her name.She must have been waiting for me. It looks as though she’s speaking aloud, but she might just be mouthing.
    Erica has a cochlear implant, a brown circle of electronic and plastic sticking out of her scalp. I’ve seen them on people in the audiologist’s waiting room.
    Mum and I had ridden