Chapter One
Ellie
The state shutdown my school. Some crap about budget cuts. On my last day as a junior, I’m clearing out my dorm to leave. Except this time, I won’t get to come back next fall.
I stomp my foot to get Kayla’s attention. She’s on the other side of our dorm, packing up her things. She looks my way. “Do you have scissors?” I sign, then gesture toward the door. “You know, something that could…” Clasping my fingers together, I make a prying motion, indicating removing our nameplates that are on the other side.
Kayla plays with the end of her long ponytail as she thinks. “Maybe a fork!” She cheerfully points toward the silverware we’d hoarded from the cafeteria that’s still on the vanity in front of the mirror.
“Right,” I sign, tapping my hands together, index fingers extended. I try to match her enthusiasm, but that’s always been difficult. My default range of emotions doesn’t stretch that far.
Stepping outside the room, I forcefully remove the silver rectangle that saysEllie Eganbeneath the Brandview School for the Deaf logo. No one’s going to use this, so I’m taking it. I toss Kayla’s to her as I shove mine into my overpacked suitcase, beneath my Sonic Boom alarm clock.
Our usually messy living quarters are now devoid of the decorations that made it a cozy home. With the absence of our belongings, the issues are more noticeable. The peeling gray paint. The stained carpeting. The crack across the ceiling that I’d watched slowly grow. All these amenities went unfixed because the government had no interest in renovations when they’d been long conspiring to kick us all out.
With each passing year, there were fewer teachers, textbooks, and resources. The state stripped away the essentials until we were left with nothing. Now we’re being sent back to our home districts, left to fend for ourselves. But we shouldn’t worry! Who needs a fully immersive Deaf school when I can have a random adult interpreter trailing me around Amber High? In case it isn’t clear, I’m not looking forward to this.
The lights flicker twice, alerting us to someone at the door. Cody stands there, leaning against the open frame and casually waving for my attention.
Kayla takes this as her cue to leave. “See you around,” she signs, giving me a quick hug and my boyfriend the slightest of nods as she rolls out her suitcase. Their indifference to each other is likely why Kayla and I didn’t hang out much outside of our dorm despite rooming together every year at Brandview. She never liked Cody, and he always had a monopoly on my time anyway.
Cody glances around the empty dorm. He’s still in the same sweatpants and BSD football T-shirt he was wearing last night, possiblybecause everything else is packed away. He steps forward, slinging an arm around me, much like he did my very first day here, letting me know that this was where I was meant to be.
“Want to hang out down by the tree for a bit?” he asks.
“Y-e-s.” I sign the wordYto theSfor added emphasis that a simple nod of my hand wouldn’t have conveyed.
He plants a sweet kiss on my cheek. His bloodshot eyes suggest he hasn’t gotten much rest. I can tell he stayed out with the guys much later after I went to sleep. All of us at Brandview want to stretch the time we have left here. Yet, by three o’clock today, Cody and I will be headed to opposite ends of Ohio.
“Oh, I have this for you.” I reach into my tote and retrieve the navy sweater I’d spent the last few weeks knitting for him.
“Thank you, Grandma,” he signs with a smirk.
I nudge him encouragingly. “Feel how soft it is!”
“It’s nice.” But he places it back with my things. “I don’t have room. Bring it for me when you visit.”
“Sure.” I should have planned to do that from the beginning. Of course he doesn’t have space to take this right now with everything else he has to bring home. I just would feel better about the distance if we’d left with parting gifts of some kind.
I brush back his scruffy blond hair as he smiles, taking my hand. We walk through the maze of hallways to the heavy back door of the dormitory. Turning onto the worn trail toward a small shaded grove, he places his arm around my waist, squeezing me tight. This is our spot, where we’d sneak out to if our roommates were occupying the dorms.
Cody sits down on the grass. I sit beside him and reach for the spare bobby pins clasped on my bra so that I can pin back my auburn hair. This could be any other afternoon. Except it’s the last one.
I turn to sign, “It’s all weird. It’s still not real to me yet.”
“I’ll miss it.” He glances around, taking everything in.
The large century-old brick manor where we had our classes. The eighties-era bunker-style building that housed our vastly outdated dorm rooms. The playground across the quad where the two of us had first kissed by the swings when we were twelve. Is he remembering all the same moments, too? So many of my memories at this place are intertwined with Cody.
I fell for him while discovering my love of sign language and Deaf culture. How do I maintain this part of me without him?
“I don’t want to leave.” Taking a deep breath, I fight to hold back tears.
Cody is stoic. “I guess we were almost done here anyway.”
“Exactly. Why’d they have to take it all away from us now? We had one more year.” I repeat, “One.”
“There’s no perfect timing.” He stares up at the sky.
