Different. I didn't feel any different than a normal human being but will I seem different? Will I act out of place? I hoped not. The last thing I needed was to seem like some twenty pound weakling that could barely take out the trash. Or act like a complete and total preppy person! I hate preppy people. I don't know why. Maybe it's the extra use of pink or the fact that they automatically become the most popular people in the universe of school. I never really understood that either.
Anyway... back to the different talk. There are many ways to be different such as: different hair colours, different skin tones, different eye colours, different laugh, different religion, etc. I mean there are like a million ways to be different. You could be considered beautiful or considered ugly; tall or short; seeing or blind; cruel or kind. Hey that rhymed. Hey, it did the rhyme-y thing again. I am a mad genius. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Eh. Back to the matter at hand. In my case, it's a battle between being able to hear or being deaf. Oddly enough, I became deaf. It happened when I was three.
I'll spare you the sad details though.
So I here I was, sitting in the shotgun seat of Mom's car, not at all ready to start a new year at a new school. It was January and I was trying extremely hard to feel any less different than people who always could hear. I can hear too but only if I wear my hearing aids. The hearing aids are only because about three months ago I got hit by a bus. It happened when I was walking to the mall to get some new books for Christmas. They were going to be for Mom. I preferred to start shopping early so when it got close to Christmas I could spend money on gifts for myself. I wasn't paying attention to what was going on around me. Some guy was chasing his three year old son down the sidewalk and accidentally shoved me into the road. I lost my balance and tumbled back before falling smack-down in the middle of the crosswalk. I stood up just as some speeding car rammed me. It wasn't fun.
I broke my left arm and right leg. The guy that shoved me, he did say excuse me but seeing as I couldn't hear...well you get the idea. The doctors fixed the broken bones of my body and took a casting of my ear so that 2 or 3 weeks later my aids would be formed to fit me only. After they were formed they worked on my head for a while and 'poof' I can hear. Not as good as normal people but I still can hear which I think is suckish because if I turned out deaf, just keep me deaf. Don't mess with fate! The only good thing that came with this was that I could hear music again. I kind of missed it. Two tutors came to my house while my mom scoured New York for schools that could fit a new student in. One tutor was for school work only and she came three days a week. The other one used to be a therapist and now taught deaf kids how to form actual words. He came everyday. About a month later, Mom found a school that would take me. I felt that it was strange that out of the many schools New York had all of them were filled. Now I'm stuck having to go to this school instead of the boarding school for the deaf in Florida where I used to go. I actually had friends there and my grandmother who could drop down at any moment. Because of her my school gave me a discount because the principal's father dated her once. She was pretty when she didn't have wrinkles and was young. The principal's father still likes my grandmother. It scares me.
So as I had said before I was sitting in the car, bored and pissed off that I had to go to another school. Mom blamed my deafness on her forgetting to take me to my doctor's appointment so naturally it's all her fault that I'm deaf and that I broke my arm and leg. No, of course it's not the fault of the person who got sick and went deaf. It's the fault of her mother. Strange how parents think that when their kids don't turn out right it's always their faults. Well, she did raise me so I guess it is her fault.
I hummed the tune to Old McDonald and brushed my hair back lightly with my the tips of fingers, tucking it behind my ear as I'd done since I could remember. In my lap was the book, The Lost Island of Tamarind. Mom had bought it on one of her many vacations. She's a writer and takes sudden trips to help her write but she's not the best author and even she admits to it. If I were to tell you her name right now you would have no clue who she is. Her name, if you're curious, it's Lily Porter and for some strange reason she has an obsession with oranges. She told me that it was because when she and my father, who is dead, met she had on orange smelling perfume. She was on a date that night and being the clumsy, uncoordinated teenager she had been she tripped and fell smack-down into my father's dear arms. She said he stalked her for weeks and even enrolled into her high school until she finally gave up and allowed him one date, then another and another and another, practically a million dates until I was born then he died. Strangled himself in his sleep, Mom always told me. Some people though say that he didn't love me and committed suicide. I threw rocks at them from behind. Then I run like the devil actually wants my soul.
Anyway, I was at the part where Maya, Penny and Simon finally meet Helix's caretaker because his parents are dead. Even though I'd I had read both books in the series so far I was curious as to when Helix and Maya would finally just realize they like each other. I'm not much of a romance fanatic but when I know as a fact that two people in the book are good for each other I get really interested in their romantic aspects. Sometimes they don't even get together and I end up scribbling down a bunch of different fantasy tales between the two. I'm a strange child, but you get used to it. Eventually. Anyway, a lot of people probably do that as well, so, yeah.
The book itself was enjoyable (it was always enjoyable, no matter how long it took me to finish) but today I just wasn't feeling it. I have dyslexia but that has never stopped me from loving to read. I love books and I like to read. Ever since I got my hearing aids I've gone out and bought audio books. It soothes me sometimes, to listen to a book rather than read it (which takes forever to do by the way). Once e-books came out I bought a nook and increased the font to the largest there was and read it or I'd buy the book copy on the internet and paste it to Microsoft Word, increase the font or size of the page and read it. See, I use my brain. Back to the point. In the middle of an old Elvis song Mom had just put in, I asked her the same question I asked this morning and yesterday and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that and the day before - well you get the point.
"Do I really have to go there? I mean, the one in Florida even offered a scholarship just to keep me. And you know I'm smart enough to keep up the GPA they have for scholarship students and-" I began.
She cut me off. "Emily, I have told you a thousand times and the answer is still the same. No! I almost lost you because of that school and I don't plan on doing that again. I've told you I already was having doubts and now being hit by that car has certified those doubts."
Did I mention at my old school, when I was eight, the science department set on fire one time? In the rush to get out, by accident, I got shoved to the back of the room and locked inside. The teachers were trying to close it off only into the science room but when they counted they forgot that there was actually seventeen students, not sixteen. I was fine with it though. I'm forgotten a lot. It helps to be quiet and closed off. That and I was the shortest kid in the entire class. My idea of safety was to hide underneath a bunch of desks. Everyone had pushed their desks together to plan projects. I managed to save the work I had done in my hurrying and scurrying to the underside of the group of desks and hid there for the entire four minutes until the fire department came. We were pretty close to it. Smoke had filled my lungs but strangely enough I wasn't afraid of the fact that I might die or get asthma or anything. It was like my guardian angel was watching me at that exact moment and decided whilst he/she was protecting me she/he might as well make me unafraid. I only got afraid when water washed over me. I'm fine with showers and baths but when I'm not in a shower stall or bathroom if feels strange to get wet. I don't swim either so that's probably the root of the problem. I was saved and I lived. I wasn't burned to the point of deeply etched scars either. The only scar I still have from the fire is one on my left knee that is small and short, shaped like a line and pops out like a mosquito bite. But that doesn't matter right now.
After several minutes of my sulky behavior we pulled into the school parking lot. Mom reminded me that I had to catch the bus from now on, that I should respect all my teachers, be a good girl at which I said that in a cliched high school most of the good girls actually turn out to be bad in disguise. She laughed and then gave me a serious look.
"Don't be a cliche good girl then," she grumbled. "Now be the depressed, hateful teenager I know you are and explore high school."
On my way to the front doors I yelled back at her, "I'm not depressed and hateful! I'm sulky and irritated! High school is too weird to explore anyway!"
As I walked towards the door, I caught the sight of several couples, including two boys, making out. It wasn't exactly gross and no one else seemed bothered by it. Anyway, high school and college are both about exploring every single possibility, right? I'm still not exploring it, though. I'll just stick to the shadows and hope to get on in my sad, pathetic life. Maybe I'll be a writer like Mom or an artist. I'll adopt two kids and they'll live with me and my twenty-three cats and two guard dogs in my small house on a beach so the kids can have fun on the weekends and I can be able to help them make sand castles and sometime in my life I'll be able to swim so I can teach them easily. Yeah, I have my entire life all planned out so I'm ready for the next steps. Except now when I accidentally walked into some boy. Actually he walked into me but still we crashed and all my stuff went flying. I randomly grabbed my things, muttered sorry to him and disappeared through the doors of the high school.
What a way to start my new year, huh?
I found the office easy enough, considering it was the first room inside the building if you were to enter through the front doors and it had a huge sign above the door that read "OFFICE". The dear, dear office secretary shuffled through everything on her extremely messy desk just to get my stuff - information, actually - for the new year. From her I got: my new schedule, a piece of paper that gave me some information about where my classes where, my locker number and my locker combination. She sent me on my way after informing me that once she sorted out the mess on her wonderful desk she'd go outside and find me a suitable guide for the school. I nodded and headed off to put my things away. I checked the schedule to see what classes I'd have until lunch. I glanced over it a couple times before thinking, You can get and advanced placement (AP) in art? What the freaking hell is homeroom? Shrugging my shoulders, I heaved my things into my locker. I pulled out all the books I had for my morning classes and placed all the books I'd need for my afternoon classes underneath my backpack which was hanging by the left hook in the locker. I hummed the theme song for Indiana Jones while I walked back to the office. Apparently, some bell had gone off outside because soon the entire hallways were filled with loud talkative people. Once I got back to the office, my clothing ruffled up because of the amount of shoving I had to do, the secretary hadn't finished organizing her desk but she left anyway to find me a proper guide. I don't think she particularly enjoyed my humming of the Indiana Jones theme song.
When she came back, about ten minutes later, a tall boy entered in with her. The sad thing was that it was the boy I crashed into. Aw, crap. Somebody up there obviously likes messing with me. As the office secretary searched her slightly cleaned desk for a slip that informed his teachers that he was late because he was showing me around, I adjusted my view of him to get a good look on his outside features and his inside features. I wondered how many new kids they got that they had to make slips for the guides. Maybe some of the freshmen go away the week prior to the start of school and need a guide to show them around because they missed the orientation or something.
As he chatted with the flustered secretary I saw he was wearing a dark blue t-shirt underneath his jacket. The t-shirt had small green swirls surrounding different areas and written at the top were the words 'MY LIFE IS SWIRLY' in a bright purple. Amusing. The jacket though kind of scared me. It was black with a blood red devil on the back and flames were supposed to surround it like a picture frame. Some people's taste in clothing worry me. Thankfully, he wore the most simple of pants. White-wash jeans with the sign of splattered paint on the bottom. The assumption that he was built for strength rather than speed came to my mind because every time he adjusted his position I saw the ripple of muscles beneath his jacket. That and his t-shirt hugged quite close to his chest. A football player maybe?
He held himself loosely, giving me the impression that he was a nonchalant type of person. The way he talked with the secretary and the way she always replied back contorted into my mind that he was good with adults. Once she located the slip she signed her name with a sweeping flourish and handed it to him. Wait a minute. Did she just wink at him? Awkward. He turned to me, showing sparkling emerald orbs that were once hidden behind the long bangs/fringes of his sandy-coloured hair. I shook my head to rid myself of the haziness that suddenly clouded my mind and partly vision. Before I did, when the haziness was setting in I saw him but more evil looking and demon like. He was on a football field. I was suspended in mid-air. There was someone in front of him but whoever it was I couldn't tell. The image of the person was to faint and dark. As everything snapped into view I noticed that he looked slightly mad and pissed off but once I blinked he was flashing me a smile of perfectly whitened teeth and the anger disappeared as though it never existed. Maybe it didn't. Strange.
He guided me to my homeroom, smiled and asked if I could the teacher that he was right down the hall in the science room, finishing up some work. I nodded. I don't talk much, mainly because my voice sounds funny. If a person is deaf before they learn how to speak their voice is rough and hard to understand. I became deaf when I was three. I just started to speak by then. My voice hasn't been used for a long time so it sounds like a mixture between understandable American talk and hard to understand deaf talk. It just sounds stupid so I don't talk to people a lot. Silently I slipped through the door and seated myself at a desk in the far back. Kids were now piling into the classroom. I curled up into my seat and pulled out my mini sketch pad and drew cats. They stood or were flat on their backs. They were sleeping or playing with yarn. In all the spaces I drew small flowers that had stems that curved in every direction. The cats ended up being black or brown and the flowers were blue and yellow. One of the standing cats had an ear that was bigger than the other one but it seemed cute enough for me so I didn't erase it like I did with the one who had weird looking ear. After much struggling with my mind, trying to demand it into thinking that the ear was not to small, I ended up redoing both of his pointy ears a little bigger and coloured in the white spaces that were left. That was better for me. He seemed much cuter though so I guess it was good my mind is stubborn. Huh.
I examined each one before I decided that like this one that was on his side, gnawing on a pen cap. Just like one of my kittens at home. I drew him on a separate piece of paper much bigger and with the page all to his own. Above his cute little head, I wrote: "To: Angel and Michael. From: Your Currently Bored and Insane Owner". I'd give it them when I want to see them shred it up into nothing.
"You're currently insane? Wouldn't you be in a mental institution?" some random person asked.
I turned and the first thing that came to mind was, 'Why the heck are all the girls staring at him like he's a god or something?' The boy was actually not all that impressive. In fact he looked downright random. He seemed like one of the track stars or swim team member at my dearly missed deaf school. They were wonderful and one was the cutest thing on Mother Earth. Not that I expressed anything towards him but he was cute. Sweet to every other girl but me. I don't exist.
A teacher entered the classroom and everyone snapped to attention while he examined my bigger portrait of the cat. She turned and smiled at me before noticing the wonderful boy. Once she did her smile fell and an irritated scowl appeared on her face. She looked menacing.
"I take it that because you are here Percy, Mr. Di Angelo won't be coming today?" she asked.
Percy grinned and nodded. "Nico's not coming til third period, Ms. Hangshaw."
She just nodded with the scowl still etched into her features. I wondered why this boy, Nico, wasn't coming to class. He probably just had an appointment that he couldn't miss. Percy held his hand out and began to compliment me on my picture and how he wants me to make one to give to Nico when he gets there. I nodded and once again, straight after I took his hand clouds crossed my vision and I saw him but he looked younger. He standing in a large room with twelve gigantic seats in a sort of U shape that were burned and destroyed. Some were still on fire. He was standing in front of a heavily bleeding girl with long, blonde hair. In his hands was a small, bronze knife. In front of him was a young man collapsing on the floor. They were all wearing armor.
The young man spoke to Percy with hoarse voice. "You can't... can't do it yourself. He'll break my control. He'll defend himself. Only my hand. I know where. I can... can keep him controlled."
Keep who controlled? When the hell was this? Is this supposed to be some weird daydream I'm having? Percy didn't seemed to know what he was doing as the person began to smoke and glow. He looked back at the girl, a boy with goat legs cradling her as though in a shield. Percy turned his head back to the young man in front of him, his arms raised to strike the knife into the body.
"Please. No time," the person groaned.
And just as Percy decided to hand him the knife the scene disappeared. Percy had let go of my hand and I was staring after him while he walked away. Three emotions scattered themselves to the top of my emotion pool: confusion, scaredness and sickness.
"Yes. He's a charming boy but please no staring," Ms. Hangshaw snapped at me.
My head snapped to attention. I think I understand why she's a Ms. and not a Mrs. Thankfully she didn't make me stand up and introduce myself to the swarm of kids in the room. Instead she left to go complain about how her computer wasn't turning on again. After she was gone, someone ducked underneath her desk and plugged her computer back to life. Kids were suddenly much more talkative now, laughing and sharing details of forced family get togethers or their weekends. Some went to the computers that were lined up against the wall and played games; others did the homework they hadn't done. Me? I was sitting there, as stiff as ice. One of my eyes were twitching uncontrollably whilst the other was staring at the board in front of me.
I have this... problem, I guess you could call it. Through skin-to-skin contact I have a habit of making up odd and sometimes disturbing scenarios in my head. A few times my making things up happen to be true. That's why I don't have friends. I'm afraid they'll run off and gossip about how weird I am. When I make up these scenarios I end up sometimes freezing up and becoming a statuette. I don't know why I do it but I've never tried to figure it out. I like to pretend that there's nothing wrong with me and that I'm naturally a loner. My life kind of sucks that way. I still play make-believe like I'm five. I'm weird and strange but hey, you're stuck with me and if you've decide my life is too weird for you well, then you'd be missing out on some great stuff. So are you going to stick with, Emily Porter, a deaf, green-eyed oddity that is on an angel-high or not? Well, if not you'd be missing out on one heck of an adventure. Choose because it's the only thing you can do at this point.
Me: So who like the new version? Anybody? No one? Wait no there's a small hand in the back. Yes?
Small Hand in the back: I hafta go. I rweally gotta go.
Me: Uh, go where exactly?
Small Hand in the back: PEE!
Me: Right, the bathroom is the second door on the left from the art room.
Small Hand in the back rushes off.
Me: So I take it no one liked the new version.
*Silence*
Me: (sighs) I suck.
So really did anyone like it?
-Happykid44