Barnard - A Quiet Kind of Thunder

For the quiet ones

Contents

Millie Gerdavey cheated on her boyfriend again.

But its OK. No one needs to know, right? And, no, shes not going to tell Jack (Obviously!), and she doesnt want to be with Leo (That muppet?). It was just a one-time thing. Again.

Imagine the scene where I found out this news. Millie is squashed up next to me on the bench, a tissue wedged in her fist, perhaps, already soaked with her tears and snot. She is all sobs and whispers.

Im so glad I have you to talk to, she says.

Its a nice scene, isnt it? Two friends sharing a secret on the first day of school. Kind of natural. What could be more normal than the heads of two girls bent together, whispering secrets, one in tears, one reassuring? Nothing.

But, oh. See that other girl sitting on the bench? The weedy thing whose shoulders are a little hunched? The one who has her hair in front of her face and a book in her lap that shes not actually reading?

Yeah. Thats me. The two girls are nothing to do with me, and they are having this intensely private conversation in front of me as if I am entirely invisible.

At one point, the second girl, whose name is Jez, darts a look at me then says to Millie, Um, do you think she heard?

Oh, her. Millie tosses her hair dismissively. Its OK. She wont say anything.

How do you know? Jez asks, a little nervously.

Watch this, Millie says, and my heart seizes. I grip the sides of my book a little harder. Hey! Hey, Steffi!

Go away. Go away go away go away.

Steffiiiiii. Millies voice has gone sing-songy. Steffi Bro-o-o-ns! She elongates my surname so it somehow takes up four syllables. See? Her voice has suddenly returned to normal. Shes as dumb as a pane of glass.

At least I didnt cheat on my boyfriend, I would say, if I could. But its probably a good thing that I cant at that moment, because it would be a pretty terrible retort. In order to be cheating on my boyfriend, Id have to actually have one in the first place. And I very much do not.

She could put it on the internet, Jez ventures.

Millie is suddenly leaning forward, her head looming closer to mine. Brons, you wont put any of this on the internet, right?

I have a sudden vision of myself sitting at my laptop, sending a tweet out into the ether, MILLIE GERDAVEY CHEATED ON JACK COLE #again #lol while I laugh maniacally.

Brons. There is a poke at my shoulder and I jump. Oh my God. I can hear the sneer in her voice. Why are you so weird? Its literally me. Millie. Like, known you since we were both five? Its true shes known me since I was five, but still she persists, so she clearly doesnt know me very well. Remember? You peed in my paddling pool?

That does it. My head snaps up and I glare at her. Words fizz up on my tongue, then dissolve into nothing.

She grins at me. There you are! I know you wont say anything. She winks, and I want to smack her. She throws her head back to look at Jez again. Steffi is a pal. As she stands up, she gives my shoulder a faux-friendly nudge. See you later, pal.

When theyve gone, I am finally, blissfully alone. I allow myself the quietest of mutters: You peed in my pool, Millie.

And then I feel slightly better.

Im in the common area outside sixth form, because Mr Stafford, my new head of year, has asked to see me before the first assembly. I am expecting the usual start-of-school pep talk/introductions Ive had to endure at Windham for the last five years. I still havent figured out whether theyre meant to be for my benefit or theirs.

A few minutes after Millie and Jez leave, the door to Mr Staffords office opens and he strides through it, already beaming. I can only assume he practises the Stride & Beam in front of the mirror.

Stefanie! he says, his hand coming towards me. For one horrifying second I think he is going to use it to pull me chummily to my feet, but thank God he just wants to shake hands. Thank God. Calm down, Steffi.

I try and smile back. I start to say, Good morning, sir, but the words die in my mouth halfway through morning when I realize Mr Stafford isnt alone. Dammit. I was so proud of myself for mustering actual words in front of a teacher, already thinking it was a good sign for this year, the first year of sixth form, the year Im meant to show I can do basic things like talk in front of teachers. I want to go to uni one day, and according to my parents I wont ever be able to do that if I cant even talk in school.

Mr Stafford is still beaming. Stefanie, this is Rhys. He gestures to the boy at his side, who is smiling at me.

What fresh hell is this? Now theyre parading strangers in front of me to mock my inability to speak in front of them? I can feel a familiar choking panic start somewhere in my stomach. My cheeks are starting to flame.

I look at Mr Stafford, knowing my expression is hovering somewhere between kicked puppy and Bambi.

Oh, he says hastily. Oh, its OK. Rhys is deaf.

My eyebrows shoot up.

Oh! he says again, looking mortified. I didnt mean I meant its OK for you to I didnt mean its OK to be though of course theres nothing wrong with being

Rhys, standing slightly to the left of Mr Stafford, is waiting patiently. He is still looking at me, but his smile has faded slightly and he looks a little confused. Who is this gormless girl? he is clearly thinking.

Gosh, Mr Stafford mutters. What a start to the year. Let me try again. Rhys He claps a hand on Rhyss shoulder, then gestures to me. As he does so, he turns his head so he is looking directly into Rhyss face. This is Stefanie, he says, loudly. STEF-AN-EEE.

Oh dear Lord.

Rhyss face breaks into a warm, if slightly amused, grin. He looks at me, then raises his hand into a wave. Hello.

I wave back, automatically. Hello. I let my hands fall into the familiar patterns. My name is Steffi.

Nice to meet you. Rhys taps two fingers to his right ear. Deaf?

I shake my head, touching the tip of my finger first to my own ear and then to my mouth. Hearing. I hesitate, trying to figure out how to explain myself. I could fingerspell selective mute, but he probably doesnt know what that means, and its not really even accurate any more. I cant I begin, meaning to say that I cant talk, but thats not accurate either, because I can talk, physically speaking. Oh God, both Rhys and Mr Stafford are staring at me. I can feel my face flaming. I finally sign, a bit lamely, I dont talk. Which is the worst response ever.

But Rhys smiles, raising his eyebrows a little as if in appraisal, then nods, and Im so relieved I smile back.

Wonderful, Mr Stafford says, looking like he wants to pass out with relief. Wonderful. Steffi, Rhys is starting at Windham sixth form today. I thought it would be a good idea to introduce the two of you. Rhys will have a communication support worker helping him out, of course, but I thought it would be nice for him to meet a fellow student who knows sign language. So he can feel more at home.

Oh, he looks so pleased with himself. It makes me want to both hug and slap him. I want to tell him that I only know the really basic stuff, but the ability to speak has completely deserted me right now, so I just lick my lips nervously and nod along. The whole this-is-the-year-Ill-speak-at-school thing is really not going very well so far.

I suppose Ill have to learn some sign language too, wont I, Mr Gold? Mr Stafford turns his head to Rhys only as he says the final bit of this sentence, clearly oblivious to the fact that Rhys will have completely missed all that came before it.