Silence (16 page)

His disillusionment. What that means for me. He is broken. Damaged. It isn’t his speech; it’s his heart. It’s been silenced. I sit nestled in the quiet of my world. Allowing me to look deep inside him.

I have vowed for years never to make the mistakes my mother made. Never to trust my heart to another. But it happened. Even when I didn’t want it or ask for it. It just happened.

And Hayden needs my help.

So I ask myself the question: Am I willing to risk my own heart to save his?

When lunchtime arrives, I still have no answer. It seems like a stroke of luck that I have already promised to eat with Kace in the drama room. I’m not ready to be with Hayden. Not until I have resolved my own feelings.

He is waiting in front of my locker just like yesterday. Today, his hair is loose, almost covering his eyes. But it can’t hide his smile. It is just for me. I meet it with one of my own. The now-familiar butterflies fluttering in response.

“I’m eating in the drama room today,” I tell him. I don’t know why I say it. As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to call them back, but it is too late. His smile fades instantly. He is expressionless, like his face is carved in ice.

“No problem.” He forces a grin. His eyes are frozen. Nothing could melt them. Then he walks away, disappearing into the crowd.

I watch him go, wondering why I have made this choice. Even though I already know the answer.

I am afraid. Afraid of my feelings for Hayden. And I am pushing him away. Just when I need him most.

Lunch in the drama room is an honor reserved for only the top echelon. Kace and Quinn preside. You attend only by invitation. I’ve dreamed about this moment for over a year. Only now that I’m here, it doesn’t matter to me anymore.

The drama crowd eats in the mini-theater’s green room, which we use for running lines before shows or waiting for class. It has big old, plaid sofas and coffee tables. Mr. Preston’s office door is on the right side. The backstage entrance is on the left. It’s like a coffee lounge minus the coffee.

Kace is sprawled in the big armchair. He has saved a seat for me on the sofa next to him. Quinn sits opposite on her own throne, a faded blue director’s chair left over from Mr. Preston’s acting days. Someone has ordered a pizza. Someone else passes a box of donuts. There is camaraderie and friendship here. No one stares. I am treated like one of the group, like I belong. Kace writes notes to me, explaining the conversation.

Preston is thinking about having one last play at the end of this semester. He’s never done it before. We’re tossing around possibilities. Some say it’ll be a play like
The Crucible
or
Our Town
. I’m casting my vote for Shakespeare. Quinn is hoping for
Pirates of Penzance
or
Singin’ in the Rain.

I glance across at Quinn. She would make a wonderful Mabel.

Kace hands me another note.
I think it has something to do with you. I think he wants you to have your moment in the spotlight.

I look up at him. His smirk tells me he can read the surprise on my face. “Seriously?” I say.

Kace winks. Nods. His expression reminds me of something. My memory searches for it, then seizes on it. The moment on stage after the kiss. That fleeting moment of sensing something more, something unsaid.

It is gone almost as quickly as I grasp it. But it warms me just the same—a compliment. Even if I don’t feel that way about Kace in return, it is flattering to know he sees me that way.

I watch as he scribbles.

(Quinn thinks he’s doing it for her, since it’s her last semester and all, so don’t say anything!)

I mock locking my mouth with a key and throwing it away. Then I crumple the note and shove it into the front pocket of my jeans.

I pass the donut box. Take a bite of my apple. I think about Kace’s note. Another chance in the spotlight. For me.

Could it be true?

I watch Quinn laughing and throwing a pillow at Kace. The idea of performing again sends tingles up and down my arms. In my first days of silence, I let go of my dream for Someday Broadway. I was sure it could never ever happen. Not with my hearing damaged forever. But I am different now. I am hopeful. Because of Hayden. I can see possibilities for myself. Chances.

Maybe it won’t be the same as before. And it might be a whole lot harder to do things that came so easily to me before, but that doesn’t make it impossible. Excitement bubbles inside of me. I want to tell Hayden. Right now. On impulse, I pull out my phone to text him. And then I remember how I treated him today. How I acted like he isn’t important to me, when he’s exactly the opposite.

I put my phone away. I don’t share the news with him because I am ashamed of myself. Of my fears.

In this moment, sitting with the drama crowd, I know. Here, in my moment of triumph, of belonging, I know that the only place I want to be is with Hayden.

And I have the answer to my question. I
am
willing to risk my own heart to save his because I have already given him my heart, whether I wanted to or not. I must have always known, ever since the first moment I saw him. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself.

I have fallen in love with Hayden. Even knowing that he might not love me back. Might never be able to love me back. It doesn’t matter. I love him.

After school, I make my way to the football field. I know where the cheerleading tryouts will be—in the same place Lily and I watched the tryouts last year. I take a seat on the bleachers and scan the crowd of girls in shorts and miniskirts, looking for Lily.

There. There she is. Her blonde hair is pulled into a high ponytail. She came in the Richmond colors: red shorts and a white polo shirt. Smart.

The girls have to learn a routine and then perform it one by one. Lily stands in the front line. She’s marking the moves. When she looks up and spots me, I wave. She waves back, beaming.

Lily is in the first group; I won’t have to wait long. Just before the girls take their turns, the football team arrives. They are conditioning now that the season is over. Today they are running around the track. A bunch of the girls turn to watch them. They point and giggle. Some wave. The guys don’t wave back. But they do start to run faster. I roll my eyes and shake my head at the Neanderthal display. That is, until Connor Williams runs to the front of the pack. Sprinting off of the track, he catches Lily around the waist. Swings her right off the ground like one of those commercials for perfume.

Wear this scent and you, too, can have the romance you’ve always dreamed of.

He kisses her. Right in front of everybody. It’s such a display that I can’t look away. I have to watch.

There is one split second, though, right before Connor runs off—it’s shorter than the time it takes to breathe in and out—when he looks toward the bleachers. At me. He tilts his head slightly, as though challenging me. I freeze, not daring to take a breath. Not until he moves off. And then I can’t be sure any of it happened at all.

Lily tosses her hair. Grins like the Cheshire Cat. She’ll make the team now no matter what. Even if she forgets the entire routine (which she won’t) or doesn’t do a perfect split jump (which she will). I may as well go home.

But I can’t move. The blood in my veins is on fire. I want to scratch my arms. Tear them to pieces. Shred my skin to stop the burning. A scream chokes me, longing to be freed. I swallow it. Taste the bitterness. Hold it in. Holding it all in.

I thought I was prepared to see Lily with Connor. After the mall, I thought I could handle it. I knew they were together. She told me herself.

I just didn’t know I would react this way.

Even though I want to run as far away as I can, I don’t. I can’t move. I stay and watch the routine. Over and over again. Lily performs it well. Brimming with confidence, her smile is bright as neon. Her moves crisp and sure.

I breathe in and out. To calm myself. To bring myself back to the present. I think of Hayden. My white feather of hope. And the thought gives me strength. Thinking of him reminds me that this is just one moment. And I have many other moments to live. To enjoy. I can do this. I can get through this.

Second by second, I talk myself through it. So much so that by the time Lily finishes her routine and does a perfect split jump, I can clap for her. I wave. Give her a thumbs-up. I move down the bleachers to the side gate. And I am free. I don’t look back.

Thinking about not thinking

— 
Hayden
 —

The afternoon sun beats on my back, and sweat runs down my face. I brush it away with the back of my hand, the only part of my arms not covered in mud. I lift pieces of sod one by one, stacking them on wooden risers. It is physical work—demanding, exhausting.

Just what I need right now. My work at the nursery is an escape from the rest of the world. An oasis of calm where I am surrounded by life, color, quiet.

Usually I can find a meditative peace here. Whether the work is physical like today or monotonous like lining up flower pots in rows, I can find my center. Not today.

Because today, all I can think about is Stella. The way she looked when she told me she was eating lunch in the drama room. The way she didn’t quite meet my eyes, as though she couldn’t bear to talk to me. But actions speak louder than words; this I know to be true. Stella was eating with Kace Maxwell. She didn’t say the last part; she didn’t have to. It shouldn’t bother me—she doesn’t belong to me. Stella can eat wherever she wants, and being beautiful and popular, she has many offers, I am sure. Just last night, I was telling myself I needed to pull away to keep myself safe.

She did me a favor today. This is what I wanted.

But if it’s what I want, then why does tension have me knotted up so tight that my muscles scream with every movement? Why do I revel in the aching of my biceps, the shooting pain in my back, the throbbing of my hands, the sweat, the exhaustion?

I pull another piece of grass and dirt and heave it into the air to land on top of the waist-high stack.

I push Stella’s face from my mind. Her sunflower eyes and petal-soft skin, hair that reflects light like a mirror, lips that tease with the hint of a smile even when she is sad. I force it all from my mind—only to replace it with a memory.

Stella kissing Kace on stage.

I know they were acting, that it wasn’t real. But I’ve seen how he looks at her, even if she hasn’t.

I may have promised seventeen days, but I can walk away now. She doesn’t need me, and I certainly don’t need her.

My thoughts are jumbled, and I can’t make sense of the confusion.

“Whoa there, Hayden,” Jeremiah calls, walking my way.

“I didn’t expect you to finish already. This is a three-day job. How’d you do this all by yourself?”

“I-I don’t—know,” I stammer sheepishly. “I w-was th-thinking and time fl-ew by.”

Jeremiah pushes the beaten cowboy hat back on his head. “Well, you must’ve been thinking about somethin’ pretty important.” He nods at the stacks of sod.

I shrug.

“It isn’t a lady, is it?” Jeremiah’s eyes twinkle, making his craggy face look young and vibrant.

I shrug again.

Jeremiah sits on one of the stacks. “Woman trouble. I been through it all. Me and the wife been together goin’ on thirty years. Try me.” He waits, like he has all the time in the world instead of a busy nursery to run.

“Th-at’s just it. I-I don’t k-know.”

Jeremiah nods his head. “Confused. Lots going on inside yer head. You don’t know whatcha want.”

He’s summed it up pretty well. I nod.

“Hmmm. Seems to me you gotta know your own heart first. You gotta figure out whatcha want. You like her?”

I do like her. “Y-Yes. May-be t-too much.” This is the most I have ever spoken to Jeremiah.

He shakes his head. “Never can like a woman too much. Too much means you’re scared of bein’ hurt. But there’s nothin’ to be gained if you don’t try.” He places a large, heavy hand on my shoulder. “Think of it this way—you’ll be hurtin’ yourself if you walk away. And she might be hurtin’ you if you don’t. But maybe, just maybe, it’ll work out.”

His words make sense, and his point is a good one. I’ll be hurting myself and my chances with Stella if I just walk away, but if I give us a chance . . .

“Anything worth havin’ is worth fightin’ for. My wife ’n’ me, we work hard to stay together because we’re better together than apart. Ask yourself—are you better together? If you are, then fight for it, Hayden.” He gently taps my shoulder then gestures at the sod.

“Next time don’t work so hard. I’ll be hearin’ from your grandpa about it when you can’t get out of bed tomorrow.” He laughs low and throaty. It makes me smile.

Jeremiah and Gramps have been friends since high school. That’s how I got the job. But to hear Jeremiah tell it, I did him the favor. I never call in sick, and I always show up on time. I do more than he asks me to do. Truth is, I’m grateful for the job and the spending money. But I also like the work. I love the peacefulness of the place, with its running fountains and flats of flowers, blooming trees and nestled houseplants.

So it seems fitting that today, here, I have made a decision about Stella. A decision that has been causing me so much confusion and pain.

It’s simple, really. She makes me happy. I am better with her. I don’t want to lose that. So I am going to take Jeremiah’s advice and fight for her. Even if the one I am fighting against is me.

12

— 
Stella
 —

I
’m sorry about yesterday. I wanted to talk to you last night. To tell you about something.

After I write the text, I delete it. I try again.

Will you have lunch with me today?

It’s simple. Direct.

Better.

He may say no. May be angry with me. Still, I hope he will say yes.

There’s so much I want to say to Hayden. So much I want to tell him. But I will have to go slow. Take my time. When I was little and saw a butterfly in my mom’s garden, I would rush toward it. Scare it away. I remember crying and crying, so sad that the butterfly had disappeared.