Page 79 of Give Me a Sign
I drag my feet, following her on the path until we reach Simone and Bobby at the campfire.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, apologizing to everyone as if it’ll take away what happened tonight. I’m not sure if I’ll have to explain everything, but the look on Simone’s face tells me she already knows. News travels fast.
Simone throws her arms around me and hugs me tight. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Of course I’m okay. But Isaac...” There’s a catch in my voice at the mention of his name.
Simone squeezes me tighter. “I’ve got you.”
“They took him, even though it was my fault.” I sob into Simone’s shoulder. “It was all my fault. I should’ve asked her to repeat. I shouldn’t have said no when I didn’t know. They should have taken me.”
Chapter Twenty-four
When I wakeup the next morning, I’m alone in the cabin. I immediately clutch my phone, but it’s dead. I crawl over to the wall and plug it in, waiting in agony for it to power on. By my watch, it’s nine thirty. Did they just let me stay here? Am I supposed to go join everyone else now?
There are no texts from Isaac when I turn on my phone. There’s only one text from Ethan asking me to let him know when I’m up. I guess this means that no one has called my parents yet. I get back to Ethan before sending another text to Isaac.
Lilah:I hope you’re okay. Please Isaac let me know that you’re okay.
A few minutes later, I get a text, but not the one I want. Instead, it’s Ethan responding to the reply I’d just sent.
Ethan:I’ll be right there
Lilah:Where’s Isaac
Ethan:One sec I’ll be right there. Don’t worry, Isaac’s home.
That leaves me with more questions than answers. Isaac’s home? Does that mean he’s okay? Why hasn’t he responded to my texts yet?
I grab my backpack to find my hearing aids. Except instead of putting them back in, I grab my car keys.
Last night might never have happened if I’d been wearing my hearing aids—if I had abided by the wishes of the hearing world. They want us to adapt to them so that they don’t have to adapt to us. I wanted to try to embrace my hearing loss, but last night I saw why I shouldn’t.
Ethan’s on his way to find me. I might as well pack my things and go home before he gets here.
I scramble to my feet and start going through my stuff. Why did I bring so many things? Forget it. I don’t need this sleeping bag. Or these old camp clothes. I shove the essentials into my backpack and book it. My parents can get the rest of my belongings when they come to pick up Max. My parents, ugh. I’m going to have to explain this all over again, aren’t I? I can already see the disapproval on my mom’s face when she asks if I was wearing my hearing aids last night.
I’m headed to the parking lot when Ethan pulls up in the golf cart.
“Where————?” he asks, confused.
I turn around, not catching the rest of his signing. “I’m going home. Bye.”
“Lilah, get in, please.”
“No, thanks.”
Still puzzled, he slows to a roll beside me, at my pace. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?”
“Don’t need it. Bye,” I repeat.
He hits the brake. “Lilah, get back here. I need to talk to you.” I keep walking until he shouts, “You’re not leaving!” But when I turn around, his voice is soft and he moves his hands calmly. “Unless you want to, that is...”
I pause, then walk back to the golf cart, staring at the ground. “Really?”
He lifts a plate covered with a napkin that’s on the seat beside him and nods for me to climb in. “Here’s some breakfast.”
There are two plain slices of toast. “Uh, thanks?”
