Page 17 of On the Bright Side
I stroll through the hallway and stop every fifteen feet or so when there’s a good spot. Holding the stack of papers in my arm, I rip a few small pieces of tape, then put up each poster.
After several of these, my arms start to get annoyed with me. Must be sore from yesterday, I’m pretty sure. Though I do need to sit down. It’s lunch, after all. I must be hungry. I’ll feel better after I eat something.
I’m near my own locker, so I sit on the floor in front of it, eating a quick bite. When a teacher walks by, I just gesture to the flyers stacked beside me, and they continue past.
My parents are big on philanthropy, donating to every school fundraiser, mostly because they get a kick out of writing a very large check to boost my name to the very top of the donor list. Not that they truly feel passionate about the cause or care what the prize is. They just appreciate the way people fawn over them to thank them for their generosity. Do they actually care about cancer or ALS or—I glance at the flyer—MS? Not really.
Ugh, I should get back up.There are too many posters. I’ll have to keep working on these during study hall, too. Crap…which is probably when I should give Ellie a tour. We never actually set a time or anything.
I just put up a flyer next to one for the sign language club that has an illustration demonstrating how to sign the wordlearnon it. That’s something I could text Ellie. I hold out my phone and sign with my right hand, drawing my fingers up to my forehead. I make sure to keep the poster in frame so she understands where I got the inspiration for this.
JACKSON:
How about the tour during study hall tomorrow? I’ll try to LEARN some more by then.
I attach the video and hit send before I can second-guess myself. Did I really need to record myself probably totally messing up that sign?
I’m in the middle of putting up my next poster when she replies.
ELLIE:
Sounds good
And close enough
I smile. I wouldn’t have expected any other response.
Chapter Seven
Ellie
My parents insistI join them for dinner again tonight. I oblige, rather than hoarding snacks in my room or coming downstairs for cold food once they’ve finished eating. They must have run out of things to talk about without Madison here.
There’s a big bowl of some Instant Pot dish, but I go straight to the fridge to grab lunch meat for a sandwich instead. The kitchen table is long and rectangular, with three of the chairs typically gathered to one end, while the fourth chair is all the way on the other side. That’s where I always sit, far away from the others.
Cheese sits at my feet, eager for any food I can spare. He’s especially enticed by the turkey, though that makes him the gassiest. I’m looking down at him, while eating my sad little meal, as Mom says something. I don’t look up. Dad clears his throat loudly but doesn’t respond.
“Ellie, please,” my mom says, voice raised. “You can’t be this miserable all the time.”
“I don’t know; can’t I?” I mope, signing one-handed while taking another bite.
“This is exactly—” Mom turns her entire body away from me, continuing her complaining to my dad. “She always—”Something, something, something.
Boring.
Mom faces me again. “Maybe we never should’ve sent you to that school.”
This we can agree on.“Exactly, I don’t want to be there. Just let me drop out. I can take online classes or—”
“No. That’s not that.” She purses her lips into a tight, straight line. “I meant Brandview.”
Those are fighting words. I narrow my eyes, hinging my head forward. My parents don’t exactly know the facial movements of ASL, but they can understand that I’m upset.
“It was hard being the only Deaf kid at school. Going to Brandview was the best option,” I try to explain.
“You weren’t likethis,” my mom says, waving a hand toward me, “before going there. You could sit at the dinner table and have a decent conversation.”
“A decent conversation?” My phone buzzes in my pocket. I ignore it. Full of rage, I stare down my mother. “Adecentconversation?”
