Page 55 of The Sign for Home

“Okay, okay,” Martin signed. “I understand! Your body changed. More muscles. Now very handsome and beautiful. But your face too scratchy and with too many bones!”

But then Big Head Lawrence, who had better working vision than you, argued that your face could indeed be called handsome, since unlike his, it was symmetrical and a normal size.

“Girls call you handsome… why?” Big Head Lawrence explained. “Means they want hold your hand or call you sweetheart or kiss you all over. You lucky! I wish I handsome too!”

The next lunchtime you tried to get a better look at Em and Marla. You told Martin that, fromwhat you could see, they were pretty. This was a lie. Because thewhat you could seepart continued to worsen. Just before the end of summer the doctor had told Brother Birch that he suspected the little vision you had left would probably disappear completely. Maybe soon, maybe later. When he said this, you clenched your fists and squeezed your eyes so you wouldn’t cry.

When you got back to school, you used the big magnifying machine they had in the Rose Garden School library to enlarge photographs. The machine had a switch that removed all the color and turned the photograph into a black-and-white negative, making it easier to see the shape of an eye, the curve of a chin, the outlines of hair and a face. You searched across an old photo of your mother like it was a map of the world, focusing in on the ocean of her eyes, the mountain of her nose, the soft valley of her mouth. You puzzled her face together, then carved it into your brain to save forever.

One day, after making certain no one was around, you brought a small photo that S had given you, placed it on the machine, and adjusted the size and contrast. Because the photo was taken from far away it was hard to make out her face.Yes, that is an eye, that a mouth… or wait… is that the bottom of S’s nose?Unlike your mama’s, you had never seen S’s face in its entirety. This made it impossible to puzzle it together. Your memory of S’s visual appearance would always be fragmented, as it was with everyone else you met after you lost your ability to see clearly. Still, you knew S was beautiful. You knew it from her smell, her taste, the feel of her hands and the beautiful stories she would tell you in the middle of the night. You removed the small photo of S from the magnifier tray and sniffed it as if the photo paper might contain her essence.

One day Marla followed you into the giant cement pipe on the playground and sat next to you. Then, without warning, she kissed you and shoved your hand under her shirt, letting you feel her body. Other than Martin, Big Head Lawrence, and S, this was the first time you felt the nakedness of another person. Where S’s chest had slight, soft mounds, Marla’s breasts were even bigger than Martin’s. Despite knowing it was wrong, you squeezed them and smelled them and felt Marla’s body shiver.

Red star.

Soon, your body became too overwhelmed by what Brother Birch had calledSatan’s trap of sexual immoralityand before you could stop, Satan made you sticky-pee all over the inside of your underwear. Disgust and guilt rushed through every cell of your body. Marla, still filled with Satanic temptation, signed “What do? What do?” into your hands, then demanded you keep touching her breasts. But Jehovah God, by his grace, had taken away any desire you had for Marla. After apologizing profusely to her, you quickly crawled out of the tunnel and went to wash your hands. Satan or no Satan, how could you have betrayed S like that? Every time S had visited you in the middle of the night and kissed you and told you stories until you fell asleep, she risked being sent to Dogwood. Your entire body felt sick with the weight of the secret. If you told her, you might never see her again. So you said nothing.

Two nights later you sprang awake when two small fists started punching you.

“Why you do it?!” S screamed into your hands. “Why?! I hate you! I hate you!”

“Stop!” you begged between her blows. “Finish! Finish! What do?! What do?!”

Then S told you how she heard what had happened in the cement pipe on the playground.

“I go to Marla’s room! She much taller than me! I don’t care! I make her tell the truth. Then I punched her in her fat chest and pulled her hair. Stupid white girl!”

Then S punched you in the shoulder very hard.

“Finish! Before, what happened in pipe, nothing important.”

“Tell me truth,” S demanded. “You like Marla better than me? She kiss you better? She tell you stories better? She protect you better than me?”

Your hands went cold, afraid what S might say next.

“No!” you shouted.

S pulled her hands from yours and turned her back. You felt her shoulders shake with the rage of her tears. You hugged her until the tremors grew smaller, then you turned her around and apologized for not telling her yourself. You thought about telling her about Satan’s trap, but you decided not to. The next thing you knew S was crying again, but now her tears were sad and not angry.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“You heard dirty gossip?” S asked. “That’s why, right?”

“Gossip? Meaning?”

“About me and Crazy Charles. That reason you no more my sweetheart and hook up with bitch Marla, because you hate me now. But I kiss Crazy Charles, why? Because protect you! Promise. I don’t want him! I want you!”

“You kiss Crazy Charles?”

Your heart broke into a hundred pieces, all falling into the bubbling cauldron of your jealous stomach. You didn’t know what to do. Had everything you felt for each other been a lie? You wanted to push S from the bed, and at the same time pull her closer. Confused, you shoved your hands into your armpits, shutting her out. S tapped at your shoulder with her fingers, then tapped harder, then she beat on your back with the flats of her hands, and finally pried your fingers open with her small strong fingers.

“Pay attention!” she demanded through her tears. “Not fair! I didn’t kiss him because I like Crazy Charles!”

“You supposed to be my girlfriend!” you yelled.

“I am!” S yelled back. “You not understand! I must kiss Crazy Charles! Why? Because that day he and Deaf Devils beat on you. Remember? I stop them… how? Because I beat on him? No! He stronger than me. He stop—why? Remember, I tell you, long time ago, at old school, I only one can understand Crazy Charles? Then happen: Crazy Charles fall in lovewith me. I say,Go away, I don’t like you. But he very sad boy. Can’t talk. Can’t sign. Can’t express. Nothing. His family very mean. Sometimes he arrive school and all over his body: bruises. I feel so sorry. So one time I let him kiss me. Why? I know soon I will transfer to Rose Garden School and Crazy Charles stay at old school far away. But then last year he move to Rose Garden School too. Still wants to kiss me. I say,Go away, you disgusting. But then that day when you peed in his locker… he say he will kill you. How stop him? So I make promise…”

S suddenly stopped signing. Her hands vibrated with the words she was afraid to express.

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