Page 82 of Give Me a Sign
Phoebe, for the first time all summer, doesn’t have a quick response. After thinking for a minute, she asks, “Did I tell you I want to go to college in the city?”
A little surprised by what she says—but happy for the change of subject—I say, “No, I don’t think so.”
“My parents don’t want me to because there’s a lot to navigate, like city streets and being on my own for the first time. So because they’re scared, I can’t admit that I am, too.”
“You’re afraid?” It usually seems like nothing can faze Phoebe. She’s not the kind of person to throw a vulnerability out there.
“Of course—everything that is new has the potential to be terrifying. But with change, we adapt. Like disabled people have done for, you know, all of human history. Modify, adjust, transform, innovate.” She pauses. “Do you need me to keep going?”
“Create a more accessible world so that we can thrive,” I say in agreement, understanding her point.
“We wouldn’t know our limitations if people didn’t keep telling us.”
One of Natasha’s campers approaches, peering at the pile of string in front of Phoebe. “Can I look for a color?” she says and signs. I nod. After she takes her pick, the girl looks back up at me. “Oh, we match!”
We do?She’s not looking at my bracelets, and I can’t find a single piece of apparel we’re wearing in common. That is, until she lifts a finger and points to my ear.
“You have purple, too!” I say, realizing what she means.
“It’s my favorite color.” She holds up her wrist full of friendship bracelets, all varying shades of purple.
“It’s a cool color.”
Out in the real world, I always notice whenever someone else has hearing aids. Usually it’s someone old, with a tiny in-the-ear device or a hidden mold with very thin tubing running up the ear. But it never escapes my glance. Especially when it’s someone young like me. That’s usually easier because we get a wider variety of colors to choose from.
I’m always tempted to walk up to strangers and be like, “Hey, I’ve got those, too!” But what if they don’t have the same reaction? What if they want to keep their hearing aids hidden and are upset that I see through their disguise?
Camp Gray Wolf needs to stay alive. It’s here that we can find our community—a place where we can be ourselves, unapologetically.
I take my time getting to the campfire tonight. I’m not eager for my Friday on-duty shift without Isaac. It’s been a few days with him gone, but time feels like it’s moving in slow motion. In the bathhouse, Simone and her girls are brushing their teeth. Natasha walks right past me toward the showers. I’ve been avoiding her, which is easy because I’m pretty sure she’s avoiding me, too.
Back at the cabin, I change into my pajamas and linger on Isaac’s sweatshirt, still sitting in my bunk. Will I get to give this back to him? Would he be mad if I kept it?
I put on my raincoat in case it pours again and grab my beach towel so I can sit on the damp benches around the firepit. For a few minutes, I’m sitting there all alone. I can’t stay in the staff cabin since it’s still housing campers after the storm. I stare at my phone that still has no new messages. Nothing from Isaac.
I’m startled when someone walks out of the darkness to stand beside me. Mackenzie gives a small wave before spreading her beach towel on the nearby bench. Simone and Bobby arrive as well.
“Want to play a game? I’m pretty sure I brought UNO,” Simone says after sitting by my side. “Or borrow a book? I’ve got some non-Braille ones.”
“No.” I can’t really stomach entertainment right now. “But thank you for joining me.”
She leans against my shoulder, and we sit together in comfortable silence.
Yet time crawls. A minute, or maybe an hour later, I jump when my phone buzzes.
It’s just a message from my mom, and I don’t feel like replying. The only person I really want to be texting with right now is Isaac. So I do.
Lilah:Hey I know you don’t feel like talking but I just wanted to make sure you know I’m here when you’re ready
I nearly jump out of my seat when the three little dots dance at the bottom of my screen. I hold my breath as Isaac types a response. But he stops writing and the ellipsis disappears.
I wait a few minutes, hoping he might still send a reply—but nothing.
Saturday evening, I get a message from Oliver asking me to hang out, so I wander down to the lake. He’s lounging in one of the beach chairs, staring up at the stars, when I take the seat beside him.
“Ben’s doing some artwork on his laptop, so I’m all yours for the night,” Oliver says. “How can I distract you?”
I look at the sky, watching clouds drift in front of the moon. “I don’t know. I don’t really feel up for much of anything.”
