Bridging the Divide

We now hold a funeral for Fitzphie, and celebrate intensely

Note: The title is not meant to make light of funerals or make fun of Fitzphie shippers, I'm trying to be funny :D

Keefe

Even from the few minutes talking to Sophie each night, Keefe could tell she was up to something. He had spent enough time near her, felt enough of her emotions to know all of her tells. She hadn't even hinted at a plan, which meant that he probably wouldn't like it one bit.

A month and a half had passed with no change in the pattern, and Keefe was beginning to wonder if Sophie was acting weird for another reason. 

No, he wouldn't let his mind go there. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe, just maybe... she liked him? No. Yes. He couldn't know for certain. 

When she had had a crush on Fitz, it was obvious from the way she acted and the fluttery feelings he couldn't help but notice. Whenever she got flustered, he had pretty much known. It was possible, but Keefe decided to distract himself from the hopes he was desperately trying to tamp by going down to the beach.

It was early in the morning, so nobody else was there, but since it was the middle of June he wasn't at all cold. Still, he kept the hood of his jacket over his face, to hide the blush he was pretty sure he had. 

Campers had come and gone over the time Keefe was there, but now everybody he had met was back, with a few new additions. He spent most of the morning wandering around on the beach, then headed back to the pavilion for lunch. 

One of the boys from another cabin (Pablo? His photographic memory hadn't been wrong yet!) ran up and began to talk at Keefe.

"Ugh, nobody understands me, and it's SO frustrating! I mean, I could cuss at someone and they would have NO IDEA! 

Not to mention, every time I try to engage in conversation and make friends, nobody understands the epic jokes I make, and there are definitely some new campers who think I'm insane now so ARRRRGGH!"

'Woah,' Keefe signed, smiling. 'That's a lot. Please don't with the expletives, though, because I don't think anyone here wants the younger campers learning to cuss even if nobody but us understands what it means.'

"Wait, you... understand me?"

'Yeah,' Keefe signed. 'I have a knack for languages. If you ever want to chat, come find me.'

Surprisingly, Pablo took him up on that offer several times that week, often complaining of various problems he had.

Friday came, and they were sitting by the beach when Pablo asked "You aren't really mute, are you?"

Starting suddenly, Keefe signed, 'What do you mean?"

Shaking his head slightly and smiling, Pablo replied, "Don't play dumb. Sometimes when you're writing, you mouth words to yourself. 

I don't think anyone else has noticed," he continued as Keefe's jaw dropped in horror and a bit of surprise, "I'm just used to watching people closely. So, I'm right?"

After carefully sensing for anyone around him, Keefe nodded and said creakily in the same language Pablo had talked to him with, "Yeah."

Pablo smiled at him and asked, still speaking carefully, "So, why are you hiding your voice?"

Keefe was at first hesitant, so he stalled by saying "Promise to never tell anyone, not once?"

"Promise."

"Okay," Keefe said, running a hand through his hair. "My psycho evil mom did a bunch of weird experiments on me, suddenly triggering a bunch of new, creepy powers. I ran away and pretended I was mute because of them.