|
|
Finished: 7/7/02
Steps echoed down the empty corridor as the girl walked towards her class. Books shoved under one arm and blonde hair slipping out of a loose ponytail, Michaela's expression remained blank. Questions and answers passed through the open doors of other classrooms, and displays hanging from the walls fluttered as she stalked past. She hesitated in front of the door leading to her English class, her hand, suddenly wet with perspiration, slippery on the handle. Michaela gazed through the window of the closed door, and was met by twenty-three pairs of eyes, some curious, some pitying, most bored.
With a reluctant sigh, Michaela broke her gaze with the class and slowly turned the door handle, silently stepping into the classroom. Immediately she was met with a tirade of whispered comments that flowed through the room, from person to person. The teacher glanced her way from the board, then continued scribbling down notes, which the students, turning away from the girl, copied into their books. Michaela scowled and sat down at the last empty seat in the room, right near the front, alone. Behind her, she could hear the whispers start up again.
There had been friends, once; Michaela used to be known by anybody and everybody for her bubbly personality and no-stress attitude. Once, she had been popular. Now she was as under-rated as an angel fallen from grace. She had tripped and stumbled her way to the bottom of the social ladder, and now she was lower than even the teacher's pets. Michaela sighed and flipped open her folder, pulling a pencil from her pencil case and trying to ignore her classmates.
Finding a sheet of plain paper, the blonde began scribbling on it, disappearing into her own little world, away from the hostile students of Hillsyth High School, away from the grandparents who now raised her, away from the memory of the accident. The pencil lead scrabbled across the paper as if it had a life of its own, leaving the marks of a tiny kingdom named Dia, set in the medieval times of knights, kings and sorcery.
The teacher's voice, which droned on and on in the background, slipped away, as did the stares and whispered comments of the students to their neighbours. Michaela had been back at school for almost three weeks now - couldn't they face the fact that she couldn't speak? Tentatively, her fingers explored under the black velvet choker tied around her neck, tracing over the half-healed scar that spread across her throat and should have, by rights, killed her. Michaela bit back a sob at the rush of memories that hit her like a brick: the robbers stalking through the darkness of the house; a knife gleaming in the moonlight; the sudden muffled screams of her mother and father; the scream of her own as the robber entered her room and roughly grabbed her hair, yanking it back to reveal the tender skin of her throat; the pain as the knife bit through muscle and arteries, leaving a deadly mark on her voice box that would leave her speechless forever.
Drawing a shuddering breath, Michaela lifted her head and continued with the drawing, occasionally shuffling through her pencil case for the right coloured pencils, unable to push the thoughts to the back of her mind. Gradually, the students started to ignore her as she did to them, and still the teacher's voice droned on. Memories swirled through her mind, leaving her unable to concentrate on the scenary on the paper in front of her. Giving up, she folded the picture and shoved it in her pocket, resting her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands. Fingers twirled around a few pieces of lion-tawny hair, Michaela missing the company of her friends. Scribbling notes on paper in answer to her friend's questions just wasn't the same. They just didn't understand it was impossible for her to speak.
It seemed the class would never end when the bell finally rang, and chairs scraped over lino as the students stood and gathered their books, talking loudly as they made their way to the next class. Michaela made to follow them, but the teacher gestured that she come speak with her. She sighed and wandered over to the front desk, hugging her books to her chest. The teacher, Miss Clamon, shook her head slowly and pointed to her mark book, running a pen along the line of 'L's beside Michaela's name.
"You've been late seven days in a row, Minky," she started, dropping the pen and folding her arms. "Why?" Michaela dumped her books on the ground and scrounged around in her folder, digging out the notepad she used to communicate with people. Grabbing the teacher's pen off the mark book, Minky scribbled an answer.
"I don't like school," she wrote in a lilting scrawl. Miss Clamon sighed and shook her head.
"I know it's hard for you, Minky, but you have to finish your education one way or another. I've seen the way the other students look at you and whisper behind their hands, but you shouldn't take it to heart." Minky snorted and scribbled furiously in the notebook.
"Not take it to heart! Miss, they're not nearly as bad in class as they are out in the yard. It's always 'Hey Minky, come and chat with us!' or 'Hey Minks, how's it goin'?' like they expect me to yell out across the yard to them. It's horrible, Miss. I don't think I can stand it much longer." Miss Clamon pulled the notebook in her direction after Minky had finished writing in it, then pushed it back to her, glancing up with mixed feelings.
"You must understand, Minky, that the other students don't entirely know what the problem is. They think it's only temporary and that you'll be back to your normal bubbly self in a matter of weeks. They don't know how to handle it." Minky hesitated before replying.
"Miss, the principal stood up in front of the whole God-damn school and told everybody exactly what was wrong. How can they not know what the problem is?" Nearly on the verge of tears, she sat down and slumped against the side of the teacher's desk, hugging her books to her chest.
Miss Clamon sighed and rested a hand on Minky's shoulder, deciding to move away from the one-sided argument and onto something a little more interesting - for Minky, at least.
"Minky," she started, rifling through the pages of her mark book with one hand. "Your class is to receive a new student tomorrow. His name is Jason Cielo and he is a mute, too." Minky growled and reached over her head for the pen and book, scribbling a furious reply.
"And just what has this Jason guy got to do with me? Just 'cause he can't speak...doesn't mean we'll get along like a house on fire!" She threw the book behind her onto the desk. Miss Clamon caught the notepad and read the message, shaking her head.
"He communicates via sign language, and I thought maybe he could teach you..." she said quietly. Curiosity killed the cat, they say; Minky stood up and stormed out of the room, pretending to be annoyed at the teacher, although, secretly, she was curious about the mute named Jason Cielo.
*
Later that day, Michaela scrounged through her locker, searching for the books needed for the work she didn't do it class. Still pondering about the new student Miss Clamon had mentioned, she stuffed her pencil case into her bag, then swung it onto her back, locking the locker with a deft twist of her fingers.
Pausing to get a drink at the taps beside the lockers, Minky idly wondered what this Jason would look like. Would he be tall, dark and handsome? A wry grin twisted her features as she straightened and stepped onto the back path that would lead her to her grandparents home over a kilometre away. Maybe he would have brown hair, tipped with blonde streaks, a fantastic tan and magnificent blue eyes? Minky was suddenly startled out of her daydream by one of her friends from another class, Holly Coe. The brunette bounced up beside her, all bubbly personality and some spite.
"Heya Minks, what's up?" Holly slowed to a bouncy walk beside Minky. The blonde merely glowered and looked away, blatantly ignoring her old friend. Holly had been away when the principal had explained to the school about Minky's problem, and none of her other ex-friends had had the decency to explain it to Holly. "You do know that voice joke is getting real old." Holly commented, oblivious to Minky's feelings towards her at that moment. "You should give it up, I don't think anyone believes you any more."
Minky merely reached up and undid the choker slowly, nails catching on the ridges of the black material. The choker slid down from her neck, pooling in her hand and revealing the ugly half-healed scar across her neck. That silenced Holly, all right. She immediately shut up, stared at Minky's throat for a moment then scampered away without saying a word.
Sighing, Minky replaced the choker and continued on her way, eventually reaching home about half an hour later. Still thinking about Jason, she unlocked the door and stepped inside, dumping her bag beside the door. Locking the door behind her, she pulled off her baggy school jumper and the navy woollen vest beneath it, undoing the top button of her shirt.
Minky walked through the warm, brightly coloured lounge room to the old-fashioned kitchen with its wood oven. Afternoon sunlight spilled through the gaps in the patched curtains covering the window over the sink, illuminating the worn lino. Not for the first time, she noted that the kitchen needed a desperate make over. Stalking over to the fridge, Minky opened the door and stood in the cold breeze that emanated from within, surveying its contents before grabbing a can of soft drink and closing the door in disgust.
She retreated to the lounge room and sprawled in front of the roaring fire, soaking up its heat like a cat. Cracking open her can of drink, Minky dragged a magazine off the coffee table and flicked through it, browsing through the photos of anorexic models. Unable to concentrate on the pointless stories of kids struggling through school to become world famous at one thing or another, she abandoned the magazine and drink and trumped upstairs, pausing to delve into her solitary retreat to drag out a pair of jeans and a daggy t-shirt.
Dragging blonde tresses out of their pony-tail, she mussed up her hair and wandered to the bathroom, stripping off and starting up the water of the shower, then jumped in as the steam began to circulate around the room.
Letting the hot water course through her hair and over her body, Minky closed her eyes to reality and the insistent little voice in her head, slipping into total relaxation. Even the thought of Jason slipped from her mind as she grabbed the bottle of peach scented shampoo, poured a little into her hand and began to work it into her mussy hair.
It must have been at least fifteen minutes later when Minky stepped out of the shower to the sound of keys in the lock of the front door. Drying and dressing quickly, she wrapped a towel around her wet hair and bounded downstairs to greet her grandparents, ducking into her room to retrieve notepad and pen.
Robert Hail and his wife Rachel staggered into the house lugging bags of shopping with more energy then their age should have allowed them. Minky abandoned the pad and pen and scooted outside to collect the rest of the shopping, bringing it inside with three bags on each hand. Rachel smiled gratefully at her grand daughter.
“Thanks, honey.” she said, and began to empty the bags. Robert left his womenfolk to put the shopping away and sat down in the lounge room, picking up the television guide and grumbling about the shows on later that evening.
*
After dinner, Minky washed the dishes then retreated upstairs after collecting her school bag from beside the front door. Bounding up the stairs two at the time, she lugged the bag after her, kicking open the door of her poster clad bedroom. Dumping the bag on the bed, Minky collapsed beside it and unzipped the bag, pulling out book after book, and her pencil case. With a reluctant sigh, she settled up against the wall above her bed with a book on her lap and the other beside her, a pen in her hand and workbook open at a new page.
Unbidden, her thoughts returned to Jason – would he really teach her how to use sign language? It would be rather handy, she supposed thoughtfully, chewing on the end of her pencil. Minky shook her head roughly and returned to the task at hand – homework. She had missed a science test and was expected to re-sit it tomorrow…and she hadn’t even studied! Groaning, Minky ran her finger down the seemingly endless columns, occasionally scribbling down notes to revise the next day.
But before she had got far, the sound of a plate breaking stopped Minky in her revision and roused her to go downstairs and investigate. It was as she had suspected; Rachel had taken it upon herself to put the dishes away, and had dropped one while tripping over the cat, Tingles. The solid black feline yowled and tugged his tail from under Rachel’s foot, scampering away under the table before anyone could say anything.
Minky sighed and bent to pick up the fallen pieces of plate, scooping them up in her hands and dumping them in the bin. Rachel looked apologetic.
“I’m sorry dear,” she said, wringing her hands. “I didn’t mean to bring you from your studies like that. Tingles just seemed to get in the way.” Minky grinned and shook her head, and leapt upstairs once again, this time to try and finish revising, uninterrupted.
*
The other students of her Maths class milled around Minky, ignoring her as she ignored them. Knowing each of them by sight – and sound – the blonde shifted from one foot to the other, looking for the new student. Upon not finding one, she sighed and found one of the last empty seats in the room, the other students dispersing into their groups with their other friends.
Mrs Nelo, one of the most despised maths teachers in the who school paraded in, nose in the air, as usual. Snorting, she gestured roughly at a few of the boys who were leaning back on their chairs.
"Mike, Dean, John! Stopping rocking those chairs at once!" The boys reluctantly lowered their chairs, fiddling with their pens. Mrs Nelo looked pleased, but she didn't stay like that for long. Opening her mark book, she began to mark the roll, calling out the children's names and ticking them off.
"Sharyn."
"Here."
"Tom,"
"Yup,"
"Jenny,"
"Absent,"
And so it continued, with students being named here or absent. When it came to Minky's turn, she merely raised her hand, then dropped it, as the teacher acknowledged her presence. Staring down at the empty table in front of her, Minky saw someone move from the corner of her eye. She glanced up, and caught the eye of someone standing outside the classroom, waiting to be allowed in. Minky stared at him for a moment, before Mrs Nelo gestured that the stranger come in, and she quickly averted her gaze, not wanting to seem rude.
Hearing the sliding door open, Minky glanced up a little. The stranger slowly walked in, moving to stand beside the teacher's desk. In his arms he held an assortment of books, all obviously new. On the spine of the text books, Minky could make out a new name: Jason Cielo. When the newie placed his books on the table and began communicating to Mrs Nelo through rapid hand movements, the students at the back of the room starting talking, then one of the boys called down to Minky.
"Oi Minks! Looks like you've got yourself a mute boyfriend!" He and his friends guffawed, rocking back on their chairs. Instantly, Mrs Nelo stood up, interrupting her conversation with Jason.
"Mike! James! Stop rocking those chairs at once! Ed! Get outside at once! I want to have a little talk with you." she barked, pointing at the door. Ed, the one who had shouted out the tasteless comment, groaned and stood up, complaining that he was only having a little fun. Jason didn't look at all bothered by these comments. Instead, he scooped up his books, took a defiant look around the room, then came and sat next to Minky. Surprised, she shifted her books over to her side of the table, making room for the other mute.
Jason hesitated, then reached for the notebook that Minky normally scribbled messages in. Finding a blank page, he pulled a pen from his pencil case and scribbled a message onto the paper.
"You're Michaela?" She took the book and scribbled a quick response, her writing a beautiful lilting scrawl under his chunky script.
"Minky," she replied, dropping the pen to the table. Jason glanced up at her, thought for a moment then wrote an answer.
"I'm supposed to teach you sign language...start now?" Minky shrugged, giving a round-about answer.
"May as well," she scribbled, leaning over the notepad. Jason nicked it from under her hand, read it, then placed it out of her reach. Minky blinked and lent forward in her chair, ignoring the teacher and the rest of the class.
And so Jason began; began to teach her the basics of sign language, stopping every now and then to write an explanation in the note book of each letter or word he formed with his hands. Minky learned rapidly, although when they were well into their second class of the day, her head and hands hurt from having to learn so much in one day. But she could do it, and do it fluently she would.
Through the day Minky's teaching continued, with only a little break now and then. By the end, she could hold a simple conversation with Jason, asking how he was, answering, and asking a few personal questions.
By the time the day was over and it was time to go home, Minky didn't want the day to end. Jason was a funny, handsome guy, and working with him was fun. She was glad she still had a lot to learn about sign language. At the lockers, Minky hesitated beside where Jason was packing his bag, then, when he straightened, gave him a friendly hug. Jason didn't seem at all surprised and returned the hug just as readily, before signing 'good bye' to her.
Minky just grinned and melted into he crowd, weaving past ex-friends and taunts by some of the other students about how close she was getting to Jason. She didn't care. She was having fun and learning at the same time, and so was Jason. Who cared what any one else thought?
*
Weaving her way through the packed shopping centre, Minky spotted her favourite store, Bailey’s, next to the new newsagents. Breathing a sigh of relief and checking to make sure her wallet was still there, she pushed and shoved her way through the crowd, finally reaching the front of the clothing store.
Stepping in through the open doorways, Michaela glanced at the racks of clothing around the walls, spying the rack holding jeans near the back. She scouted her way through the store to get at the jeans, rifling through the rack with both hands.
There were many different styles; too many to choose from, Minky thought. But she hadn’t saved up nearly a hundred dollars for nothing. Tugging out a coat hanger, Minky surveyed its contents with a sceptical eye. The jeans were low-slung, designed to show off and flatter the attractive figure that many girls sported. With only three buttons in place of a zip, the jeans were definitely the flirty type - not Minky’s, not any more. She replaced the hanger with a sigh, pulling out another, similarly slung, but with a more subtle effect. The lower legs were flared, and the cuffs were frayed deliberately. Minky grinned and took a look at the tag: $60. At that price, she could afford a top to go with the jeans, as well.
After taking a quick glimpse around the store, the blonde pulled out a sleeveless orange top from another rack, and disappeared into the change rooms. She reappeared a moment later, stepping cautiously into the empty corridor, and pirouetted in front of the mirror, checking her reflection.
Minky was just thinking that the top was a size too small when the sound of clapping attracted her attention. She whipped around, tags flying, and found herself face-to-face with Jason, or so she thought.
Jason - the real Jason - hadn’t told Minky about his identical twin, Rodney, because he was ashamed of his brother being a dropout, among other things. At first glimpse there seemed to be no difference between the pair, but upon closer inspection, there were more subtle, barely noticeable differences, like the small, jagged scar running up Rodney’s forearm. Rodney could speak, but being brought up with a mute in the family had allowed him to be taught - whether he liked it or not - the art of sign language, as fluently as Jason could. As this was Minky’s first meeting with Rodney, and with no one to tell her otherwise, she acted towards Rodney as she would if she and Jason were in the same situation.
The Jason look-a-like grinned and stepped towards Michaela, hands moving swiftly through the movements of sign language with the same flare as Jason. Minky smiled, resting her hands on her hips and tilting her head slightly, watching him approach.
“What’re you doin’ here?” she asked, curiously. The store was specifically for girls clothes, and it wasn’t as if he had a girlfriend or a sister.
“I saw my Minx through the window and decided to come and say hello,” Jason replied, shrugging. Minky blinked, then pirouetted once again, just for his benefit.
“Your Minx...Do you like it?” she queried, stopping in front of him again. Jason nodded, looking her up and down.
“Very...flattering,” he said at last, with a grin. Minky just snorted and disappeared into the change rooms once again, coming out a moment later holding the new clothes and wearing her own, worn but comfortable jeans and t-shirt. The pair both moved to the counter, and Minky laid the clothes on the bench, reaching for her wallet.
The brunette behind the counter took the clothes, scanned the tags and removed the security clips, then neatly folded the clothes, placing them in a bag and passing it over.
“Eighty dollars and seventy-five cents,” she said in a bored tone. Minky retrieved her money from the wallet, pulling out a fifty, a twenty and a ten dollar note, then reaching into her pocket and tugging out a handful of coins. Pooling them on the counter, she counted out seventy-five cents and slid it across the counter, gathering the bag and turning away before the brunette could say anything. The Jason look-a-like quickly moved to follow her, stepping outside into the slowly diminishing crowd. Already the shop keepers were closing their stores.
Minky glanced at her watch and grimanced, shifting her bag to her other hand. “I have to go now, but I’ll see you later, ok?” Jason nodded and bent down, pulling her into a hug, then letting go, signing his greeting.
“See ya Minx,” He melted into the crowd before Minky could form a reply. Smirking at his pet name for her, Minky turned and headed towards the doors of the shopping centre, eager to get out of its muggy depths.
*
Weeks went by and spring turned to summer, and still Minky learnt from Jason. It turned out he was a very good teacher who made things easy to understand, so Minky had no trouble understanding what he meant. Working with Jason gave her the strength to endure her classmate's taunts, and now she had many memorable replies to their calls by the use of her hands and body which they could understand, loud and clear.
Minky, now coming more adept with sign language, continued to ask Jason about his home life, and how he came to be a mute. He hesitated, then told his tale of how he was born a mute, with defects to his voicebox that even the best surgeons couldn't fix. Minky flinched at the thought of how horrible it would've been to grow up around people who talked constantly and being unable to imitate their sounds.
As yet, Jason hadn't questioned Minky about the black velvet choker around her neck, although he often eyed it curiously. She noticed his curiosity, but didn't say anything, waiting to be prompted to tell its woeful tale.
That moment came one afternoon while Minky was at Jason's place, waiting outside his front door. It was then that she had her second glimpse of Jason's twin brother, Rodney. Michaela waited patiently, glancing behind her to look at the manicured gardens and shortened lawn. They must trim it with a pair of nail clippers, she thought to herself, whipping around as the door opened. Light pooled at her feet from inside the house, momentarily blinding her.
Silhouetted in the doorway, a figure looking remarkably like Jason stood, staring at her like she was a caged animal at the zoo. Minky self-consciously glanced at her figure hugging jeans and rather loose top, thinking she had a stain or something on the material. But before she could say anything, the identical twin of Jason gestured her in.
Rather nervously, she stepped in, hugging a folder to her chest. Shifting the folder to sit under her arm, Minky grinned at Rod, thinking he was Jason.
"You ready to study?" she signed. Rodney blinked, then rapidly signed back, deciding to play along with his brother's friend.
"Let's go. We can study in the lounge room, if you want," Minky nodded and walked in the direction he pointed in, looking around at the brightly coloured room. Putting her folder down on the coffee table, Minky sat down, hands resting on her lap.
"Where are your books?" she signed, looking at him curiously. The Jason look-alike looked at her books for a moment, then stood up, signing to her that he would go fetch them. He exited the room, and returned a moment later, not holding his work books, but two glasses of soft drink. Minky, who had been looking through her book, glanced up and grinned wryly.
"Don't want to work?" she questioned. Jason put the drinks on the table, sliding one in her direction.
"I'll go grab my books," Jason signed back, disappearing a moment later. Minky, suspecting something might be wrong with her tutor, took a sip of her drink and returned to scanning through the endless columns, glancing up suddenly as a loud thump and a suddenly muffled yelp of pain came from the adjacent room. Frowning, Minky returned to her studies, glancing up as Jason returned, holding his books.
"What was that?" she questioned as he sat down, pointing to where the thump had come from. Jason placed his books on the table, unopened.
"I dropped my books," he replied, hands moving swiftly through the signs with a flare. Minky looked puzzled for a moment then fiddled absent-mindedly with her choker, glancing through her books. Jason leant forward on his seat, pointing to her choker and signing his question, placing his words carefully.
"Why do you always wear that?" he asked, clasping his hands in front of him. Michaela looked up, surprise registering in her eyes before she slowly reached up and undid the clasp, revealing the ugly half-healed scar once again. With a heavy heart, she explained the tale behind the scar.
"My mother, father and I were all asleep in our beds, one night," she signed, keeping her gaze trained on the carpet beneath her feet. "Somehow a robber got into the house - the police still don't know how he got in - and went up to my parent's bedroom. Mum must've heard a noise or something because she woke up and sat up, then screamed at the sight of the robber going through the dresser. Her screams must've woken dad up, because the next thing they knew, the robber was beside them with a knife in his hand, and then..." Here she hesitated, licking her lips. "...then the robber slit their throats and left them for dead." Minky bit her bottom lip, shuddering convulsively. "Then he came into my room, and...and held back my head and slit my throat. He didn't do it deep enough to kill me; he only got my voice box." Shaking, Minky replaced the choker, licking her lips and keeping her gaze trained on the carpet.
Jason stood up and moved to her side, slipping his arms around her and pulling the blonde into a hug. As he did so, Minky signed a last comment.
"At least it's over now..." He rubbed his hands across her back, and a cruel grin twisted his face as he whispered into her ear.
"It's not over. Not yet."
© Gabrielle Cielo/Danielle Seivers 2002
|
|
