Page 21 of On the Bright Side
Jackson listens intently. “I get that. My parents—” he says, talking about his own gripes, and I miss most of what he says next. I wish I’d been able to hear more about the “multipage Christmas-card letter,” though. He asks me another question about my old school.
What did I like doing?I think that’s what it was.
“Hmm, my boyfriend and I,” I start to say, and Jackson’s attempt to disguise his reaction doesn’t slip my notice. “I mean,ex-boyfriend.” I hold up the letterXfor emphasis, unsure if Jackson knows the ASL alphabet. “Still not quite used to that one.”
“Right.” There’s transparent relief in his eyes. Why does that make my stomach flutter? “Yeah, that can be tricky.”
“Well.” I push forward, realizing most of what I have to say about my time at Brandview involves Cody. “We’d hang out on the grounds. There was a lot of space to spend time outside. I hate that we can’t do that here. It’s claustrophobic to be stuck indoors all this time.”
“I wish that wasn’t a rule,” Jackson agrees. “It’s pretty packed in here.”
“Andnoisy,” I say, also signing for emphasis.
A realization dawns over him. “Have you been hearing what I’m saying? I’d hate it if I was rambling about,” he says, along withsomething, something, something,“and you were just being polite?”
I shake my hand side to side, like so-so. Most people wouldn’tthink to ask, so I appreciate that. “A quieter spot would make a huge difference.”
“I can try that! Ms. Lily could—” He continues his thought, but I’m out of the loop again.
“What was that?” I ask.
“Get us lunch somewhere else,” he repeats, signinglunchin the L shape circling by his mouth.
Smiling, I suggest an alternative version of the sign that he’s less likely to accidentally sign as something else. “Or likeeat-noon,” I say while demonstrating. “But really?”
“If you’d want. You wouldn’t have to talk to me every day, or anything like that, if you don’t want to.” He fidgets with his fingers. “Somewhere you can read more comfortably and I can avoid the soccer table for a while longer.”
“Honestly, that sounds great.”
Chapter Eight
Jackson
Although it startedawkwardly, lunch with Ellie was nice. She’s easier to talk to than I would’ve thought, in thewe could have more in common than I would’ve expectedkind of way, since I’m not sure how much of my talking she was able to hear. I think I’m drawn to Ellie because she’s the only other senior who is out of place this year.
We swing by our lockers during passing period to drop off lunch boxes and grab books for our next classes. Once the hallways clear out, we’ve got all of study hall for this tour. And I haveno ideawhat to show her.
“These are the labs,” I say, walking backward, gesturing over my shoulder to the stretch of rooms behind me. My sneakers squeak across the linoleum flooring. Then I stumble but catch myself before I fall. Might be easier to take a sidestep approach instead. “All the science equipment. If you were a prospective student, I’d have to bragabout the microscopes and Bunsen burners, since they were new at one point, but that was a few years ago.”
Ellie nods through my rambling. She points to one of the closed doors beside us where we can see the teacher lecturing through the window. “That’s my physics classroom.” Rolling her eyes, she adds, “Which they’re making me retake, since something about that course didn’t transfer.”
“That sucks.” Well, there’s no reason to linger in this science corridor. I backtrack and lead us around to where we can go to the second floor.
Approaching the stairwell, Ellie stops. “I’ve got English and history up there.”
“Of course.” With a slow nod, I say, “You already know where those are. Not getting lost or anything?”
“No.” Ellie gives a sympathetic smile. “It’s not that big of a school.”
“We could go down by the gym?” Which she also already knows about because of PE class. Fortunately, a better idea comes to me. “Or actually, the library.”
“I’ve been there, too,” Ellie teases me, but she eagerly rushes down the hall with me.
I pull open the double doors. “There’s something you probably haven’t seen yet,” I say, too loudly, as we walk past the checkout desk. The librarian gives us a friendly but pointed look. I turn back to Ellie, whispering, “We’ll need to be quiet.”
Ellie smirks and responds to me in ASL.
I offer a sheepish thumbs-up. “What’s the sign for this place?” I whisper. When she moves anLin a circle, I go, “Oh, almost like one of those signs forlunch. That’s a little confusing.”
