mute

chapter 1

Billie Eilish sat quietly at her desk in the corner of the classroom, her eyes darting around the room, taking in the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the scraping of chairs. She couldn't contribute to the noise, not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. Born mute, Billie had never spoken a word in her life. What she did communicate was through her hands, using the graceful motions of sign language. Her brother, Finneas, was the only person who truly understood her, the one who could translate her thoughts and feelings into words when needed.

School was a daily struggle. The halls were filled with students who didn't understand her, who didn't try to. To them, Billie was just the "weird girl" who never spoke, who moved her hands in strange ways, and who sometimes jerked or twitched unexpectedly. What they didn't know-or perhaps didn't care to know-was that Billie also had Tourette's Syndrome, a neurological disorder that caused those involuntary movements and sounds. Her tics were subtle most days, a blink here, a twitch there, but when she was stressed or anxious, they grew more pronounced, more noticeable.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the class. Billie gathered her things slowly, trying to avoid the usual rush of students eager to leave. She felt the familiar tightening in her chest, the anxiety that always bubbled up when she had to leave the relative safety of the classroom. Finneas would be waiting for her by the lockers, as he always did. He was her rock, her anchor in the storm of uncertainty that was high school.

As she walked down the crowded hallway, she could feel the eyes on her, hear the whispers that were meant to be out of earshot but were loud enough for her to catch fragments.

"She's so creepy."

"Why does she twitch like that?"

"Can't she just stop?"

The words stung, but Billie kept her eyes down, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. She had learned long ago that responding in any way only made things worse. The cruel jokes, the mimicry of her tics, the mocking imitation of her sign language-they were all too much to bear.

When she reached the lockers, Finneas was already there, his face lighting up when he saw her. He signed to her quickly, asking if she was okay. Billie nodded, but Finneas could see the tension in her posture, the way her shoulders were hunched and her movements were stiff. He didn't need to ask what had happened-he knew. He always knew.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Finneas signed back. "But if you need to talk, I'm here."

Billie sighed, her hands hesitating before signing back, "Just the same things. They don't understand. They never will."

Finneas placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his face softening with empathy. "They're ignorant, Billie. It's not your fault. People fear what they don't understand."

Despite his words, Billie couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that clung to her. Even though she knew Finneas was right, it didn't make the hurt any less real. She leaned into him, allowing herself a moment of vulnerability, grateful for his presence.

The rest of the school day passed in a blur. Billie moved through her classes like a ghost, her mind half-present as she scribbled notes and completed assignments. She avoided eye contact, kept her head down, and tried to blend into the background as much as possible. But no matter how hard she tried, there was always someone who would pull her back into the harsh reality of her situation.

During lunch, Billie and Finneas sat together in their usual spot at the edge of the cafeteria, away from the bustling crowds. As they ate, Finneas filled the silence with stories and jokes, trying to lift her spirits. But Billie's attention kept drifting to a group of girls at a nearby table, who were clearly talking about her. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could see the way they looked at her, the way they snickered behind their hands.

Her tics started to act up again, small jerks in her shoulder and twitches in her eyes. She tried to suppress them, but it only made things worse. The girls noticed and began to mimic her, their cruel laughter ringing in her ears. Finneas saw it too, and his expression darkened.

"Let's go," he signed, standing up and offering his hand to Billie. She didn't hesitate, grabbing her tray and following him out of the cafeteria as fast as she could.

They found refuge in the school's music room, a place where they often went to escape the noise and the cruelty. Finneas sat at the piano, and Billie settled into a chair nearby, watching as he began to play a soft, soothing melody. The music washed over her, easing the tension in her body, and for a moment, she could forget about the world outside.

Finneas looked at her, his fingers never faltering on the keys. "You know, you don't have to keep going through this. We could talk to Mom and Dad, see if there's another option. Homeschooling, maybe?"

Billie shook her head. She had thought about it, of course, but she didn't want to give up. She didn't want to let the bullies win. "I don't want to run away," she signed. "But it's hard, Finneas. So hard."

Finneas's music slowed, the notes becoming more deliberate, as if he was trying to find the right thing to say. "You're strong, Billie. Stronger than they'll ever be. They don't know what it's like to be you, to live with what you live with every day. But I do, and I'm proud of you. Whatever you decide, I'll support you."

Tears welled up in Billie's eyes, and she quickly wiped them away, not wanting to cry in front of Finneas. She didn't need to-he could see the emotion in her face, in the way her hands trembled as she signed back, "Thank you, Finneas. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You'll never have to find out," he replied with a reassuring smile.

As the school day came to an end, Billie felt the familiar pang of anxiety. The thought of walking through those halls again, of facing the stares and whispers, was almost too much to bear. But with Finneas by her side, she found the courage to stand up and face it. Together, they made their way to the exit, ignoring the jeers and taunts that followed them.

Outside, the fresh air filled Billie's lungs, and she felt some of the weight lift from her shoulders. She and Finneas walked home in silence, the bond between them stronger than any words could convey. In a world that seemed determined to break her, Billie knew she was lucky to have someone who understood her, who saw her for who she really was.

At home, the familiar warmth of their house greeted them. Billie retreated to her room, where she could finally relax and let the stress of the day melt away. She knew the next day would bring more challenges, more bullying, and more moments of doubt. But she also knew that she wasn't alone. With Finneas by her side, she could face whatever came her way.

She sat at her desk, picking up a notebook and a pen. Writing was another way she expressed herself, a way to pour out all the emotions she couldn't speak. As she wrote, the words flowed easily, capturing her feelings of fear, anger, and hope. It was a release, a way to make sense of everything she was going through.

And as the ink filled the pages, Billie felt a sense of calm wash over her. She might be different, she might be mute, and she might have Tourette's, but she was still Billie. She was still strong, still capable, and still determined to find her place in a world that didn't always understand her.

She put down the pen, her heart a little lighter than before. Tomorrow would come, and with it, more challenges. But for now, she had peace, and that was enough.