“You’re not capable of doing that,” Mauve said. “Trust yourself a little, okay?”
Hadn’t that been his brother’s advice about Mauve?
He followed her into her office, the second time he’d been there, but now taking note of the child-sized table, a rug with a tree-of-life pattern in blues and greens, a low shelf of picture books and small wooden toys, including a plastic farm set, finger puppets, and a tin of what looked like letter tiles. He settled on the floor on the rug just as Ollie arrived with his mother, clutching a tin of cookies. He handed them to Mauve, who opened the lid to take a whiff of the sugary treats.
“We made them for you,” Sarah said from the doorway. “Ollie decorated them himself.”
“Well done, Ollie,” Mauve said brightly. “I love cookies more than I should.”
Ollie grinned, nodding in obvious agreement.
Jason stood, feeling suddenly too large for the room.
“You remember Jason, right?” Mauve asked Ollie.
The boy nodded, serious.
“He’s going to help us learn the song,” Mauve said.
“I had to learn ASL for a role a few years back,” Jason said, speaking to Ollie as if he were an equal. “So I thought I’d lend a hand.”
“I’ll be back at four-thirty,” Sarah said, kissing Ollie’s head. “Have fun.”
He gave her a tiny wave. She waved back and was gone, her shoes clicking on the stairs.
Jason returned to sitting on the rug and gestured for Ollie to join him.
Ollie sat across from him, looking at him with such earnestness that he had to fight the sting in his eyes.
Mauve sat down on the rug too, legs folded.
“Are you two ready to get to work?” Mauve asked. “And after, for a treat, we all get a cookie.”
Ollie gave a thumbs-up.
Jason took a deep breath before he began. “Okay, Ollie, here we go. First, your hands are the words. Your face is how the words feel. So we’re going to do both, every time. You can’t just do the hands. Mrs. Jones and everybody in the audience need to see what the song means on your face. Okay?”
Ollie nodded, folding his hands on his lap. .
“First, let’s learn ‘snowman.’” Jason cupped both hands loosely, palms facing each other, and drew them down in the shape of a snowman’s body. “Snowman. You try.”
Ollie tried. His version was smaller, more tentative, but the shape was right.
“Perfect. That’s it. You’re going to be great at this.” Jason grinned. “Now, ‘Frosty.’ Frosty is the character’s name, so Mary, my ASL coach said we can give him a name-sign. Here’s the one she likes.” He brushed two fingers down his cheek. “That’s thesign for cold. So Frosty becomes cold-snowman. You want to use that one, or do you want to make up your own?”
Ollie considered. Then, slowly, he cupped his hands around an imaginary ball of snow and mimed shivering with his shoulders hunched and a tiny theatrical shudder.
Jason laughed. “That’s even better.”
Ollie beamed. Nodded.
“That’s yours. That’s Ollie’s Frosty. We’re using it.” Jason glanced at Mauve.
She was smiling, clearly delighted.
“Okay.” Jason turned back to Ollie. “Let’s do the first line. ‘Frosty the Snowman was a jolly happy soul.’ Watch me. Frosty.” He mimed Ollie’s shiver. “Snowman.” He did the shape. For “jolly and happy,” he brushed his flat hand up his chest, and made his whole face beam, eyebrows up, mouth open in an exaggerated smile. For the word “soul,” he touched his chest.
Ollie didn’t take his eyes off him.
