You're deaf; I'm mute

~Chapter 2~

"...and so young thespians it is important that you broaden your minds so you..." yadda yadda yadda, does Mrs. Darbus ever shut up? I think to myself, trying to hold in a yawn. I mean, who invented homeroom? Really, who ever did should be drug out to the street and stoned to a pulp. The only bright thing is/was when Gabriella stood up and spoke-um, signed-to the class who she was and the two things. Granted i was the only one that understood her, but that's best part of being...like me, you talk in a way that most others can not, and you understand when a person who can talk the same way you do does.

"Mr. Bolton," uh-oh; what'd i do now? "care to tell the class what was Shakespeare's most famous playwright?" and then there are the people that forget you can't talk. Oh, how i would love to see Mrs. Darbus get stoned to a pulp (A/N: "stoned"-killed with rocks/boulders being chucked at the body, not "stoned" as in illegal drugs; just saying) "Mr. Bolton...speak.."

How many times has this lady forgotten I can't talk, let me think? Oh yeah, every fricking day that i'm in this classroom! I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders, avoiding the stares of my classmates. Except for the brunette that was staring attentively at the front of the room; or, was that a blank look? Either way, I couldn't tell. Mrs. Darbus sighed in irritation, "did you not study Mr-"

"Romeo and Juliet..." said a distorted voice, all eyes turned to the left front desk-the one closest to the door. Gabriella was looking at Mrs. Darbus from a sideways glance, everyone looked astonished, "Romeo and Juliet." she signed again.

"Yes, that is correct Miss Montez," Mrs. Darbus said proudly, "and Mr. Bolton...study next time." Oh, sure blame the mute guy. I rolled my eyes, waiting ever so fricking patiently for the damn bell to ring.

The whole time I was in class, I felt eyes on me. I knew that it wasn't anyone that I had told before to 'stop staring, or take a picture!', I turned in my seat to find that Gabriella was staring at me, those silver-topaz eyes wide and wondering. Wondering; probably wondering why I can't speak, and Wide-i don't know...but, from what i could see; fear, but what would she have to be afraid of? and of me? I'm not a scary guy...am I? i mean, i know i am bitter...at times, and I am pretty much a loner, I don't bother anybody...why would she be scared..of me? I pondered this, while bringing my hands up and signing, 'What's wrong' her eyes went wider-if possible- and she turned back around to the front. Leaving me confused. Very confused.

Bring! Bring! Bring!

Ah, saved by the bell. Time for the best class that I love, what is this class you may ask? Well, the class I am talking about is gym. Yes, my dad is the coach, yes, i am treated like a charity case.(They never learn, prolly never will...oy) But, I love gym anyway; good stress relief, and I have a lot of stress in my life-since I 15 i've had stress in my life. Can you guess why?

Picking up my books and throwing them into my grip, I proceeded to dash out of homeroom...that is until I collided with someone. I heard the sound of a small body hit the floor, I looked down to see the person that had the misfortune of becoming the obstacle that collided with my muscled frame. It was...Gabriella, great, I probably ruined her first day for her. Bending down, I helped scoop up her books all the while, putting mine tucked tightly under my arm so I can ask (sign); 'I'm so sorry about that, you okay?' she quickly nodded, and held out a hand; a greeting-doesn't take a brain dead monkey to figure that one out. I signed, I'm Troy. I took her small hand in mine and shook it; it was warm, and I loved the feel of it in my palm.

All too soon, she pulled her hand away and walked-more like ran- in the direction of the gym. There was something about this girl, I couldn't quite put my finger on it. But, there was some thing about her. And when she shook my hand, I couldn't help but notice-hey, i maybe mute, but I have eyes- that there was something that looked like a gashlike scar on her wrist...

Yeah, there's definitely something about this girl. I just don't know what...

But, I want to find out. Thinking about nothing but Gabriella, I walked slowly to the gym, I've gotten detentions before-when I was able to argue my way out of them, but now I don't get them anymore because the teachers-excluding Darbus-pities me and feels sorry for me and it really ticks me off.

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