Page 4 of Deafened By Silence
Instead of taking the usual path, I veer off across the grass beside it, leaving a trail of flattened blades behind me. Maybe it’s the only trace I’ll ever leave here, but it makes my chest feel a little lighter anyway.
Exiting through a gap in the upper corner, Bolton Halls comes into view. My dorm lies within the long rows of windows and aged brick. It’s one of nine freshman dorm buildings on campus, but the only one reserved for scholarship students or those with grants covering their housing. In other words, if you live here, you’re poor as shit, and everyone knows it.
Taking the nearest door, I slip inside as the motion-sensor lights flicker on to greet me. I’m on the fifth floor, same as back home, but here that’s only halfway up instead of the top floor. My footsteps echo off the stairwell as I take the stairs two at a time, wanting just a sliver of time to myself before another long-ass day of lectures.
Most of the residents are already up, light seeps under doors, and the frantic tapping of keyboards filters into the hallway. Grabbing my key from my bag, I hear the telltale shuffling of my assigned roommate and let out a quiet sigh. I pause, key poised in the lock, and lean my forehead against the wood.
On second thought, maybe I’ll just skip the nap I’d had in mind. Head straight to the cafeteria, stay in my sweat-soaked jersey all day instead. At least then people will steer even further away from me than usual.
The door swings open before I can decide, and I stumble forward, catching myself on a wide-eyed Kenneth Dockerson. His glasses sit crooked on his freckled nose, and his fiery red bedhead sticks out in every direction like he lost a fight with a hairdryer.
“Hey, Clayton! I saw a shadow under the door and I was likemmm who’s that?Then I thought maybe you forgot your keyagain but then I was like no way, it’s way too early for practice to be done, but I figured I’d check and–”
I cover his mouth with my hand, ignoring the way his lips feel too wet with spittle. Kenneth always talks a thousand miles a fucking hour and never leaves time to swallow or breathe. Lifting my free index finger to my own lips, I signal for him toshh, eyebrows drawn tight in warning. When he nods quickly, I slowly peel my hand away and shut the door, keeping my gaze locked on his until I’ve lowered myself onto my bed and closed my eyes.
A metallic crash sounds a second later, jolting me upright with clenched fists. Kenneth freezes, turning an impossible shade paler as he hovers over the pile of empty soda cans he just knocked off my desk. I’d been working on that can tower for weeks.
Pressing my fingers to my temple, I will myself to find some shred of inner strength. This kid is going to be the death of me. Back home, I would’ve been the first to protect people like him from the vicious world outside. But this isn’t the cutthroat streets. He made the choice to come here, just as I did, so I’m not about to fall into the role of his bodyguard. Or his friend.
“Kenneth, either leave or shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
He nods like a rabbit on crack, grabbing his backpack, shoes, and coat and bolting from the room, without putting any of them on first.
I stretch out, hands tucked behind my head, and let out a long breath. Finally, peace and quiet. Well, aside from the morning workout DVD blaring from upstairs and the vocal warmups from a music undergrad down the hall. But that’s nothing compared to sirens or gang fights outside my bedroom window.
My mind conjures up my mother as I start to drift into a light doze, her beautiful smile that is always in place. I get my coloringfrom her. The blonde hair and eyes so dark they look black. I inherited her tenacity and unwavering inner strength too. I’m lucky in that aspect. We were happy once, the three of us. That was before Mom got sick. Before the weight of everyone else’s burdens landed on my shoulders. But I can’t think about any of that now.
This is my chance to fix everything. I just have to keep attending my classes. Keep my head down, get my degree, finally clean up the mess my worthless old man left behind, and make my mom proud.
That’s all that matters, and I won’t let anything, or anyone, distract me.
Chapter Three
Shit on it.
So much for the epic new start I promised myself when curling up in bed last night. This morning, I was jolted from a fitful sleep by the sunlight glaring impatiently through the open curtains, my back aching from adjusting to a foreign mattress. The unmade bed and pile of brightly-colored abandoned outfits opposite were the only evidence my roommate had returned so late last night that I have yet to meet her. Hunting for my phone, my heart plummeted to find it had fallen through the gap between the mattress and headboard, vibrating soundlessly on the carpet beneath the bed.
Realizing I was running an hour late, I’d mentally slapped myself, skipped breakfast and it’s all gone downhill from there. I bet my implant receivers are having a lovely day though, chilling on the dresser where I stupidly left them. But I did manage to dress appropriately, my #Antisocial t-shirt reflecting my current mood perfectly.
Despite sending several emails to the professors about not needing any special treatment, I knew starting in a new school wouldn’t be a smooth process. For the most part, peoplegenerally go out of their way to make anyone remotely different feel included, which is great for others. Not for me. I’ve had to stay behind with two separate professors this morning for a discussion about unnecessary over-pronunciations, and speaking in slow motion with a tone only whales could understand. My phone has been working hard duetting as a microphone and Aunt Marge gave me plenty of lip-reading practice over the years.
Currently, I’m sat in physiology, where the professor is dragging her feet back and forth behind her desk with the slowness of an elderly slug. Professor Vickers is a frail woman, with giant circular glasses and even bigger hair. Her greyed curls stick out in all directions and bounce as she steps, appearing as if she’s been electrocuted. Physiology isn’t the most appealing of subjects at the best of times, but with her brittle tone, I might just about die of boredom each and every day. I stopped listening to her voice filtering through my phone a little while back and started doodling an image of me being hung on an execution dock instead.
Bodies all around suddenly begin to pack up, signaling the end of this torture. Gathering my books into my backpack, I slump down the wooden steps of the curved lecture hall and grab my phone from the professor’s desk. She catches my eye, seeming to want to speak to me but I avoid any further conversation with a solid thumbs up before ducking out of the room. There’s a bustling line of students filing the hallway, all seeming to head in the same direction that I want to go – to the cafeteria.
The walls are thrumming with laughter, my vision filled with easy smiles and playfully bumping shoulders. I’m quick to shut off my phone, preferring to shuffle along in blissful silence. Maybe I’ve become prejudiced, or maybe I’ll just never forget the overwhelming crush of metal on metal and the high-pitchedscreech from my mother before my hearing cut me off from the world around me. But I prefer my solitude. No matter where I am, I have my own cocoon of peace. No false words or bitchy comments or ill intentions. I’m oblivious to it all.
I follow a group through the double doors and across the courtyard. The sun has already begun to set, leaving heavy, grey clouds behind for another dismal evening. The four buildings surrounding us in a rectangle fall into shadow so they look more like haunted halls than the vibrant college from the online brochure. Fat raindrops land on my face and create a growing constellation across the path as the hurried footsteps ahead come to an abrupt stop by the central fountain.
I pull up short, straining to see what the holdup is. There’s an awkward dance of bumping bodies and sidestepping, surely encased in confused chatter I can’t hear. Ducking aside, I swing myself up onto the lip of the fountain. The vantage point provides a much clearer view of what’s causing the chaos, and it doesn’t surprise me in the slightest. I’ve only met him once, but I recognize him in an instant. Rhys Waversea is standing in front of the cafeteria entrance, his arms crossed as he shrewdly scans the masses of students before him. He has an entourage of bulky jocks, permitting entry to only a few a time.
Three guesses who he’s looking for.
The cold bites through my jeans. Rain is falling harder now, fat drops smacking my hood and slickening the courtyard. The clouds are ready to split open. And I am so not ready to be caught in the middle of whatever the hell this is.
I turn to hop down from the fountain, every instinct screaming at me to slip away unnoticed before Rhys’s calculating eyes sweep the crowd and land squarely on me, the new girl already drawing more attention than she ever wanted. But fate isn’t on my side today. My foot slips on the slick edge of the stone twisting sharply beneath me. A jolt of pain rushesup my leg so sudden and sharp that I barely have time to gasp before I lose all sense of gravity.
My balance vanishes completely in a breathless moment, the world tipping sideways, the blur of students and grey sky rushing past me as I brace for the unforgiving impact of the cold, hard floor. Although, the impact never comes.
