Gillian

My earliest memories are of when I was three, and I dreamed of being a professional singer. I dreamed of being an international superstar who was adored by millions, who traveled around the world daily, and who sang to crowds of thousands every night. I would go around my house singing into my hairbrush, jumping on the furniture, and letting the world hear my voice. I would force my baby sister to listen to me in mock concerts, with her and my stuffed animals serving as my "audience."

These days that dream is dead. I've all but forgotten how to talk, let alone sing. Hardly anyone has heard my voice in years, including myself. Sometimes I think of myself as a shell, just a human body with little means of communication. I'm too daft to learn sign language. Plus, with the type of screw-up I am, I'd probably accidentally tell someone to go fuck themselves when I only wanted to greet them.

Let me explain some things. First, my name is Gillian Beidenbach. I am seventeen going on eighteen, I'm a Pisces, and I have selective mutism. Actually, apparently my mutism is bordering on "progressive mutism." But seeing how literally no one knows what the hell that means, I just go with selective.

Right now I'm lying in my bed with my blanket pulled over my head to block out the sun that is starting to bleed through my blinds and fall across my face. I can hear birds chirping outside my window and I can't help but feel the urge to throw the nearest blunt object at them in order to silence their singing. As I roll over to try to get more comfortable and go back to sleep, I hear the blaring noise of my phone's alarm going off. I sigh. Another day, another brutal beating from my emotions and anxieties. Hooray for chemical imbalances in the brain for fucking with you in ways you didn't know you could be fucked in!

I pull myself out of bed and instinctively wrap myself in the blanket that had previously been draped over my sleeping form. I don't know why I do it - it's not even cold. However, I'm a creature of habit, and this is one if those habits. Grabbing my phone off of the nightstand, I leave my room and waddle over to the door next to mine, careful not to trip over the blanket the whole time. It's the door to my little sister's bedroom.

I rap on the door for a solid thirty seconds before I hear my sister groan, "Why so early, Gil?" from the other side. I respond with a solid kick to the door's base. Did she really expect a verbal response from me? "Ugh, fine," she answers, and I hear her sliding off of her bed.

I leave the door and head over to the kitchen, blanket in tow. The hem drags on the ground slightly, so I hike it up to avoid getting it dirty. As I open the cabinets and pull out some pancake mix to make breakfast, I can hear my sister's door open, and her heavy footsteps on the hardwood of the floor as she, too makes way to the kitchen. She appears in the doorway just as I pull a frying pan from its place hanging over the counter. "Morning," she mutters before she lets out a slight yawn. My sister never was much of a morning person, but we had made an agreement that if I woke her up early every morning, then I would also make her breakfast every morning. Frankly, I don't mind hauling her lazy ass out of bed, or making enough food for two people. God knows my sister is fairly useless around a kitchen. I nod in response to her greeting and return my attention to mixing the ingredients for our breakfast.

My sister sighs as she takes a seat at the bar behind me. "Are you going to even try to talk to me, today?" she asks.

I pause and then pull out my phone, typing a quick message and hitting the "send" button with expert speed. My sister's phone rings, and she opens it to read the text I just sent her:

"No. Maybe some other time."

She sighs again as she sets her phone down on the bar. "Gil, I'm your sister. I'm your best friend! If you can talk to anyone, it's me! You know that, right?"

I reach for my phone and send another text: "Yeah, I know."

My sister sighs and decides to drop the subject. "Okay, if that's what you want..."

"What do you want in your pancakes?" I text, turning to face her.

"Chocolate chips," she responds, running her hand through her short, dirty-blonde hair. "So...school is starting up, soon. Does mom still have you signed up for Avalon Academy?" I nod as I retrieve a bag of chocolate chips from the pantry. "Do you think you're gonna do well there?"

I pause for a minute before I shrug, turning back to the mixing bowl and opening the bag of chocolate. I honestly don't know what will happen to me at Avalon. I've been bounced around from school to school so much that I've learned to not really try to make friends, much to the dismay of my mother, who is convinced that she can cure my mutism by forcing me into social situations. At other schools it's been easier to avoid talking to people, but Avalon will be completely different. It's a boarding school, and I will be forced to live on campus with a roommate for the entire year. Honestly, I'm terrified for the beginning of the school year, but there's no way I'm telling anyone that. It's better to fake indifference than to worry anyone.

"Your pancakes are done," I text my sister. And with that, our discussion is over.

Julia

I lean back in my lawn chair and take a long sip from my can of soda, relishing the perfection of the moment. The sun is high and warm, there's just enough of a slight breeze to keep one from getting too hot, and the birds are chirping in a way that reminds you that yes, it is in fact summer. Closing my eyes for a moment to soak all this in, I open them and turn to my two friends who are sitting to the left side of me. "Ladies, this summer has been a great one," I say before taking another sip of soda.

Francine, the girl closest to me, a slender blonde with her hair pulled into a fanciful bun on the top her head, nods in agreement. "I completely agree, mon ami," she says, her voice bearing an obvious French accent. "I kissed at least twenty boys, and that's just including the ones whose names I remembered!"

"That's nothing, amiga!" says the tanned Spanish girl sitting on the other side if Francine, with her long, chocolate-brown hair pulled into some intricate twist. "I went on a date with Chiara this year! A real date!" Her emerald-colored eyes sparkle as she says this, almost as if she's recalling all of the date's details in her head as she speaks. "Well, I guess we never said out loud that it was a date, but what else would you call two people who are interested in each other going out for ice cream just out of the blue?"

"A friendly outing?" Francine suggests, turning towards our Spanish friend. "Look, Rosa, I love you like a sister, I really do, but have you considered that maybe Chiara isn't interested in you the way you're interested in her?"

Rosa shakes her head adamantly. "No way, chica! Her sister told me that she's certain that Chiara has feelings for me!"

"Well, you know how ditsy and oblivious Viviana can be, Rosa," I say, picturing the small Italian girl in my head. "I mean, she doesn't even know that Louise has a crush on her!"

Francine nods in agreement with me. "Oui, and that is incredibly obvious."

Suddenly, though, our conversation is cut short by someone below us shouting. "Julia! Opa told you and your friends to get off the roof an hour ago!"

I flinch slightly at the voice that belongs to my strict little sister before yelling back, "Aw, you're no fun, Louise!"

"Whatever, just get down!" she responds angrily. I stick my tongue out at her, even though she can't see me from up here, and turn back to my friends.

"Well, ladies, it seems like we'll have to continue this conversation on land," I say, before folding up my chair and tossing it off the first story roof. Suddenly, as I hear the chair hit the ground, I get an idea. "Hey, what would you two pay me if I jumped off the roof right now?"

"Enough to pay your funeral costs," Francine says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes. "Oh, come on, It's one story! It's not like that would kill me!"

"No, but your grandfather would if he saw you do it," Rosa points out, with Francine nodding in agreement.

"Ugh, fine. I'll climb the TV antennae like the rest of you losers..." I roll my eyes and grumble some choice words under my breath as I follow my friends onto the lawn. Once we're on the ground, Rosa turns to Francine and me. "By the way," she says, her face full of pride. "Once school starts up and we all get to Avalon, we'll see who's wrong and who's right. I guarantee that Chiara will be spending practically all of her time with me!"