I looked at the café, somewhat dubiously. My brother waited impatiently, arms crossed. "See?" he said. "Job vacancy." I raised an eyebrow at him.
Here? He scowled.
"Yes, here! It says so right there!" I looked again at the notice in the window. It outlined the job, and the pay, with a number to call underneath, with the option to apply inside.
Arendelle café, I mused. It seems a bit... I paused.
"Too good to be true?"
Yeah. I glanced around the street. No one was giving us a second glance, which meant that no one had noticed a fairly important detail: I'm not speaking.
I've never been able to speak. Most people just assume that I had an accident or something, but no, I was just born that way. However, I do have one astounding gift: I can speak with my mind.
Only Jon knows about this. For everyone else it would just be too weird, too freaky. They'd feel like I was invading their privacy, but my gift doesn't work that way. Most of the time I just get this vague sense of what people are feeling, but if I want to, I can look deeper and find out what they're actually thinking. I don't do that very often, though, as it makes me feel uncomfortable – just think about what you think about sometimes, and I'm sure you'll think of something that you wouldn't want to hear from someone else's head – and because I get headaches if I do it too often.
Talking to people is easier. I've done that a couple of times to people that don't know me. They just think that it's their subconscious talking to them and being unusually clear, although they do look around first to see who's talking to them.
That's the main reason why I haven't got a job yet. I mean, I'm 19. I've left school, looked at a couple of colleges, etc., but I haven't got a job yet, and that's because of my 'speech impediment', as Jon calls it. Most places baulk at the idea of employing me when I can't talk to their customers.
Jon was obviously thinking along the same lines, because he glanced down at my pocket. "You got it?" he asked. I nodded and held up my phone. Jon worked inventing new apps, and he'd made one recently that let's me 'talk' to people. I typed into my phone what I wanted to say and the phone said it. I knew sign language too, but that's kind of useless as no one else does.
It looks closed, I objected. Jon peered at the café.
"No, it closes at six-thirty. Come on." He opened the door and stepped through. I sighed and followed him.
The café was pretty much empty inside, apart from a blonde and a redhead talking quietly at the back of the room. I followed Jon up to the bar, drawing the attention of the man behind it. He had short blond hair that was falling into his brown eyes and he was wearing a badge proclaiming that his name was Kristoff. He leaned casually against the bar.
"We're closing in ten minutes," he warned.
"We're here about the job," Jon replied. He looked us over.
"There's only one vacancy." Jon nodded.
"Yeah, I've got a job," he said, "it's Taelor that needs one." He looked at me.
"What, you couldn't come by yourself?" he asked. I grinned.
"Call him my translator." I typed, jerking my head at Jon.
"Ah." He looked faintly ashamed of himself. "Can't talk?" I shook my head. "Right. So, job's from Monday to Saturday, Sunday off, eight to six-thirty, but we close at four on a Saturday, $15 per hour. If you want the job, come by at opening time tomorrow and we'll try you out. You cook?"
"He's great at it," Jon said, answering for me and grinning.
"Good. See you tomorrow."
"Fine by me."
I looked up as Kristoff closed the café. "What was that about?" Anna called. He shrugged, pulling out a chair and sitting down.
"Some kid wanting the job," he answered, running a hand through his hair and yawning. Anna thought this through and nodded. His yawn was contagious and I took another sip of coffee to ward off mine. "What was his name?" she asked. Kristoff paused.
"Taelor, I think."
"Who was the other one?"
"His brother, I think. They looked pretty similar anyway."
"Did his brother want the job too?" I asked. Kristoff shook his head.
"No. Seems he can't talk." Anna gasped. I pauseed, my mug halfway to my mouth.
"Not at all?" I asked. Kristoff shrugged, looking embarrassed.
"I didn't ask," he confessed. I shrugged and resumed drinking my coffee. "I don't know how he'll work in the job. I mean, he will be in the kitchens, but..." he shrugged. "I just couldn't see him getting a job anywhere else." Anna nodded.
"I wonder what he's like," she said.
"I wonder how he got through school," I muttered.
School was a sore point for me. I was attending university at the moment and almost every day I was terrified that someone would discover my own particular curse. I glanced down at the table and the mug I was holding. I found myself doing that every so often, just checking that nothing had happened. Only Anna and Kristoff knew about it, but for anyone else it would just be too weird, too strange for them to accept. They'd be terrified of it. It was better that they don't know.
I tuned back into Anna and Kristoff's conversation, just in time to hear him say, "Well I'm exhausted. Are you both all right to make your own way home?" I smiled and finished my coffee.
"We'll be fine, Kristoff," Anna assured him.
"Yes," I said, "but only because I'll be driving." Kristoff chuckled and walked us to the car, or rather Anna. I ducked inside the car to give them a moment of privacy, and started the engine, tapping my gloved fingers on the wheel.
What would it be like, I wondered, to not be able to talk?