Without A Voice (Based On A True Story)

A Light Broke Through

Things have changed since Mr. Kent discovered my secret, but not in the way I hoped. As the weeks went on, I noticed a change in the staff's behavior around me. They surveyed me a lot closer and frequently asked if I was okay. Their perception of me shifted from annoyance to sympathy; they finally understood the entire picture. It benefited me academically, but socially everything remained the same. 

My relationship with my classmates went from bad to worse. I was no longer viewed as the odd child who couldn't speak; I was now the freak who couldn't talk "normally" and can't hear. I was treated as a lesser life form than they were. With my secret known, the other kids exploited it to the fullest extent. They ran away when they had something to say about me, waved their hands in the air mocking sign language, and much worse. I never thought I would be happier ignored by my peers. But the teasing didn't stop there.

The worst insult I received was truly appalling. I never knew the extent of a child's cruelty until that day. One morning, I was walking towards my classroom after dropping Jacob off at his classroom. It was a normal day, thus far: woke up, helped Jacob get ready for school, our grandparents made us breakfast. It was utterly normal. At the stairwell leading to our second-floor classroom, these two boys stood there blocking the entrance. 

"Excuse me," I said, "I would like to go upstairs." They looked at each other and laughed. I stared at the ground, trying to contain my frustration. "Please let me through." Then one of the boys pushed me. I fell backwards onto the hard, cold concrete floor. The pain stung throughout my lower back. Both of my hands were heavily scraped with tiny chunks of gravel embedded into the wounds. It was so sudden, I couldn't process the whole situation. The pair laughed at my expense. They uttered these words as tears slowly trickled down. 

"That's what you get for not having a dad." The two bullies ran away, possibly to avoid consequences. The attack was very random. Why me specifically? Why did they have to say that? A lot of questions came to my mind, none of which justified what just happened. I looked around, and saw a reflection of my life: I was alone, beaten and sad. I slowly picked myself up, and hobbled over to the nurse's office. 

The nurse patched me up and requested the principal join us after mentioning the details of the altercation. I still remember the stinging pain of the rubbing alcohol on my fresh cuts. The principal, an older lady with an approachable energy about her, asked my questions regarding who did this to me. I wasn't able to answer any of her questions, except I knew they were older kids based on where they ran afterwards. I got glimpses of their attire, but it didn't help much.  As expected, there was little the principal could do with what little information I provided. I walked out of that office with a few scratched, a bruised tail bone, and a broken heart. 

I couldn't focus the rest of the day. I pondered on the what could have prompted these two random boys to pick on me so spontaneously. How could they have possibly known that about me? No one except for the administration staff knows my father passed away. But the more important question: what makes that okay to bully someone? I was confused, lost, and exposed. I just wanted that final bell to ring so I could escape this nightmare.

Mother was very concerned and bombarded me with a million questions regarding today's incident. I shared whatever information I gathered, which only made her more infuriated with me; I had no incriminating information other than they were older and wore certain clothes.

"So you don't remember anything else?" she asked angrily. I shook my head in disappointment. She took a deep sigh and stared intensely. "Well what did they say to you?"

This was a simple question, but with a lot of weight behind it. If I told her the truth, I would be immediately removed from the school. If I lied, the pain would continue. The choice seemed so obvious later, but I didn't think so at nine years old.

"I didn't pay attention." That was a tough decision. I thought about the greater good of my family. If I were to move schools: my mother would have to find me a new school, she or my grandfather would have to go out of their ways to take me, and Jacob would have no one at the school with him. So many things would have changed because some punks decided to pick on the father-less, deaf kid. I couldn't do that to my family. That decision still haunts me until this day, but I did it for the sake of the few people who loved me.

I walked into class the next day to snickers and gossiping classmates. I ignored them and sat at my desk. As I prepared for the day, I periodically looked up as everyone stared towards the door. I looked towards Mr. Kent's desk where he was reading the newspaper and drinking a mug of coffee. So it's not him or me...What are they looking at?

She walked through the front door, a brand new face. She had short brown hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I have ever seen. Her clothes and shoes looked all brand new, as if she bought them on the way to school. She smiled with such confidence and joy. She was different.

"Hi everyone." I wished I could hear her angelic voice. "My name is Grace. I just moved here." Mr. Kent walked over to her and greeted her.

"Nice to meet you, Grace." he said with the trademark Mr. Kent hospitality. "You'll be sitting over there with Tina." She walked over towards the back of the class, where I surprisingly saw the empty desk. I was usually so observant, how did I possibly miss that?

I couldn't get my mind off Grace. She was a new face, a last chance to make a friend. She didn't know anything about me. But wait, there was no doubt the others would tell her the "status" of things at Ka'awa Elementary School, especially about me. I was instantly discouraged. If I don't try, I can't get hurt. With that thought, I returned my attention to Mr. Kent's lesson while trying to forget about her.

I conducted my recess routine: sit in class and do homework. My cuts stung when I held my pencil, making me take frequent breaks. Then I felt a tap on my shoulder. Thinking it was Mr. Kent, I turned around casually.

"Yes, Mr. Kent?" I froze in fear. Grace stood there giggling. I quickly turned back to my work, hoping she disappeared. Out of my peripheral, I saw someone sit in the desk next to me. The blue shirt told me that my wish didn't come true. I looked into her kind eyes and was instantly paralyzed.

"Why are you sitting in here?" she asked. I looked at Mr. Kent for help. He just nodded, signaling I should handle this myself.

"You shouldn't be talking to me." I sadly said to my desk. She tapped my desk.

"Why not?" I stared at her, shocked by her response. Did they not tell her?

"Here, I'm nobody. No one talks to me." I tried to push the emotions down. She looked at my desk and pointed at something; it was my name plate.

"This says your name is 'James', not 'nobody'." That statement rendered me speechless. No one ever said anything like that too me before. She said my name, my actual name. She saw me as a person, not a freak. I never felt like that before. In a matter of a few hours, Grace turned my world on its head.

Then I see her hand waving in front of my face. I snapped back to reality and was greeted back with her infectous smile. I had no choice but crack a smile back. It has been a long time since I smiled, years.

"So why are you sitting here while everyone else is outside?" I shrunk in my chairs. How do I explain this to her? We just met; I didn't want to tell her my whole life story. I stared at the incomplete math homework in front of me.

"N-no one wants me to be outside with them." I said. I looked to Mr. Kent for some guidance. He gave me an empathic look and nodded. "The others think I don't belong. I'm not like them."

She looked at me confused. Her eyes softened a little, but the light never left. The silence slowed time around us. It felt like an eternity since one of us said something. She extended her hand and placed it on mine.

"Do you want to play with me during lunch?"