That night I was woken by a storm pelting my window. My bed placement may have been ideal for spotting people in the house, but it was less than ideal when it came to the loud and window vibrating rain that terrorized the top of my bed. I grabbed my pillow and brought it to the foot of the bed, pulling the covers over me so that I could get some rest. It worked, but barely. When I woke in the morning I was exhausted, but I felt a little better about heading to school, like somehow I had a spy working for me on the inside. It made me a little more relaxed about going. Plus I had figured out my routine, and the people I'd be walking to different classes with, and where I would be sitting at lunch. The little things that make life infinitely more comfortable. I drove to school early, and sat in the cafeteria, doing my homework. Eventually movement in front of me caught my eye. It was Angela. She looked around the nearly deserted cafeteria and leaned towards me conspiratorially.
"Would it be okay if you taught me some sign language? Like just a little bit to get your attention and things like that," she asked quietly, but clearly, with my warm and shy smile her immediate response.
We spent the next few minutes sharing my favourite phone applications that would help her learn the alphabet, and the barest basics of conversation. She practiced a little, with her hand facing towards herself so she could copy what she saw. Angela also handed me most of the notes she had taken this year, in every subject – even the ones we didn't share – and I would spend tonight copying them out. She nudged me when the bell rang, and we hurried off to class together.
The rest of the week followed without incident. I caught up on most of my class notes every night when Angela would sacrifice her book to me, and we began taking Rocky for regular walks, which mainly consisted of us walking to a dry bench that was under a shop awning, and practicing signing together. In gym class nobody passed me the ball anymore, which was amazing. My little group of friends also started planning a beach trip that was to happen a few weeks from now. Earlier in the week I had pestered Charlie about finding a place to go swimming. He admitted that the only place nearby was La Push, and that the water would be too cold this time of year to do anything but surf in wetsuits. I started to wonder what we could possibly do on a beach trip if we couldn't swim, and then remembered the tide pools, and the driftwood sculptures that I used to love as a kid. I suppose it wouldn't be awful, but I did need to do something to work my leg. Since the accident that had stolen my hearing, it had been fraught with stiff spasms if I didn't work it frequently. With no pools around I was looking at jogging and yoga, two of my least favourite things for the same reason. Jogging and yoga involved falling potential, and my lack of balance and luck had landed me in enough trouble.
I tried to do yoga at home, and then realised that the only spaces large enough for a completely rolled out mat was the living room, if I moved the couch, or the kitchen, if I moved the table. I went for slow and careful jogs twice that week, picking the only mornings it wasn't actively raining to do so. When I got home I was wet from both sweat and the weather, and was very grumpy. Not the most ideal way to start the school days. I'd have to iron out something better.
By the Friday of that week, I was far more comfortable at the school and dreading the beach trip with an almost loving demeanour. Beaches should be hot and dry. Every lunchtime this week, without fail, I had glanced towards the Cullen's table, to be sure that Edward would not be angrily staring at me in biology. Every lunchtime he failed to show up, despite the presence and calm state of his siblings. It started to fill me with a false sense of hope that he might never come back to the school. His frightening black eyes were a flash that popped into my head every biology class, before I dismissed the shiver, and settled down to listen to Mr Banner. I tried not to think about him, but I also couldn't shake the worry that I was somehow responsible for his disappearance.
My first weekend passed without incident. My mother had found – or bought – a phone charger, and I had spent a good two hours on the phone talking to her about my first week in Forks. I moved the kitchen table on the Saturday morning to do an hour of yoga, and then decided to run as well. I ran all the way to Angela's house. It was a route I was getting familiar with, although I had not judged the distance well and by the time I got there I was nearly dead of exhaustion. Angela was nice enough to feed me while we watched her baby brothers play fight, and then even drove me home once her mom returned from the grocery shopping. On the Sunday I did housework, groceries, and homework until my brain and body were equally as exhausted. Charlie was too used to his regular routine to stay home with me, and worked most of the weekend. I didn't mind. I actually enjoyed the quality alone time. The rain also stayed soft over the weekend, and it gave me a chance to catch up on some well needed rest.
Monday morning at school I said hello, or waved to faces I recognized, even if I hadn't gotten the names yet. I made a mental note to ask Angela if she had a yearbook that I could borrow. It was colder this morning, but not raining. In English, with Mike at my side as usual, we were surprised with a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was fairly straightforward, and easy, especially since I had read the book until the spine was splitting. Despite the surprise quiz, I was happy. I was settling, and had a few good friends, and I felt more comfortable here than I thought I would. There were no stares in this school. Well there were, but appreciative ones instead of pitying ones. That seemed to make a world of difference. There were no whispers behind my back. I wasn't accidentally lip-reading hushed conversations about myself. I was reading only regular school worries, and dramas, and homework, and it was incredibly peaceful.
My mood dimmed slightly as we exited the building. It was snowing. Lumpy blobs of white were falling from the sky. At first I was sad about the lack of visibility this would cause me until I realised that it was silent. The snow was falling so gently, and interrupting enough noise out, that I could actually hear Mike talk clearly about the snowball fight he was planning. The usual distracting pitter-patter of the rain had been muted, and it was like someone had flicked a switch. Things still sounded strange and dull, as if my ears were underwater, or as if I'd put the wrong earphone in while listening to music, and the singers were singing in the other one. But there was a little more to hear now. I smiled, and watched the jubilant faces of those around me. Normally I think I'd hate the snow, it did after all mean it was too cold for rain. But just that little glimpse of silence was oddly peaceful.
"- enjoying the snow." Mike said. I quickly glanced at him.
"Huh?" I said totally ungracefully.
"I said, you look like you're enjoying the snow." He laughed.
"Oh no," I informed him. "I'm enjoying people's reactions to the snow. The snow itself is a mood kill. It's wet and cold, and it looks like the ends of Q-tips. I thought it was supposed to be little flakes, like in the movies."
"You've never seen –" he was interrupted by a snowball hitting him smack in the back of the head. My eyes widened in fear, and I looked around as I saw Eric slowly saunter off in the wrong direction for his class. Mike had obviously picked up on that too, and began heading towards him, scooping up snow from the ground. I darted as quickly as possible out of the snow, worried I'd be whacked in the head with the flying menace I had been admiring only a few minutes ago. This was like gym class, but worse.
Throughout the morning, every conversation I managed to catch was about snow. I walked extra alertly between each class, now armed with a binder that I could use as a shield if necessary. Jessica found it hilarious. She was speaking so quickly, and I was trying so hard to watch her, watch where I was going, and watch for snowballs, that I missed most of what she said. Every word I did manage to catch seemed like I didn't need to respond.
"… with the snow the boys are – fight later but we – after lunch – and with Mike not – you should totally –" she had a large smile on her face as I ducked away from another snowball, missing whatever it was that I should totally do. We finally made it inside, and Mike captured her attention. I sighed in relief of both the distracted Jessica and the lack of flying snow inside. I glanced towards the Cullen's table, out of habit, and my stomach dropped.