Whisper Read Free Page A

that hope too. We’d hung on like rodeo riders to the hope that a cochlear implant would change my life back to almost normal. Like a magic trick.But when the audiologist explained how it worked, it didn’t seem so magic. They actually take out your own natural cochlear and replace it with the implant.
    Whatever sounds or speech come through to you can be kind of robotic. Mum had a really funny look on her face when the audiologist told her about how this version of sound could supersede my memory of how things sounded.When she put headphones on mum to let her hear how speech might sound to me if I had a cochlear implant, Mum went all pale, like she was going to faint.
    I could see that Mum was freaking out. I could see her thinking that the implant might actually make me seem less normal rather than more. And when the audiologist started telling us about the risk of infection from getting a cochlear implant, I decided I couldn’t deal with it right then. I had so much to get used to. I couldn’t handle any more change.
    I couldn’t handle any more disappointment if it didn’t work out.
    Erica’s cochlear pushes out of her scalp, quite exposed in her short, browny-blonde hair. It looks weird. Seeing them in the audiologist’s waiting room was different. Everyone there was a patient. But this girl isn’t a patient. She’s smiling and chatting and walking around.
    If I’d been able to get one, I would have gone for the same dark brown as my hair, and it would have been pretty much hidden. Even though Erica’s is exposed and ugly and she really should try and hide it better, I feel a swish of envy.
    Erica pulls the other girl over by her hand. She is signing now, not mouthing at all.
    â€˜This is …’ Erica is pointing at the other girl and I think she is introducing her but the sign she makes next seems to be ‘chatter’. It’s her right hand in front of her mouth, thumb below fingers, like a beak opening and closing.
    I’m not sure I got it right. Chatter would be a weird name.
    â€˜Is that your nickname?’ I ask.
    â€˜It’s not a nickname, it’s my deaf name,’ Chatter signs back.
    Her head is tilted to the side and there’s an expression on her face that looks a lot like sympathy because I don’t know about deaf names, that I haven’t understood.
    â€˜You can only be given a deaf name by other deaf people, so it’s different. My real name is K-e-i-s-h-a.’
    I want to wipe that sympathetic expression off her face.Why would anyone want to have a deaf name anyway?It’s not like it’s fun or cool or anything to be deaf and have deaf friends. If anyone should feel sympathy here it should be me. At least I used to be normal.
    I smile tightly at Keisha.
    â€˜Sorry about before,’ Erica signs. She obviously hasn’t noticed my reaction to Keisha. ‘Chatter doesn’t want … to know she likes …’
    I don’t have a clue what Erica is saying about Chatter or Keisha or whoever she is. Only that she seems to be making the sign for football with her hands while she mouths what looks to be the name Luke.
    I try to stomp down on the frustration that’s rising inside me. I was missing out on so much at my old school. It’s one of the reasons why I decided to go to the deaf school instead. I thought that at least if people were signing and I didn’t have to worry about lip-reading all the time, I wouldn’t have to deal with only half getting everything.
    â€˜Can you please slow down?’ I ask and sign, raising my eyebrows to signify a question.
    The sign for ‘slow down’ is one of the first ones Jules taught me. It’s like a foot easing off the accelerator pedal,but with the hands instead.
    Keisha lightly smacks Erica on the shoulder with the back of her hand and rolls her eyes. It’s so physical.
    â€˜Yes, slow down,’ she signs to Erica with a