"Don't forget about your debates on Thursday! Remember to dress nice!" Ms. Jackson glanced at the clock on the wall. "Class dismissed!"
Nirav sighed and stretched, then swept their books and a few loose papers into their bag. They stood and slipped into the hallway.
"Nirav Stillings, please come see me." Ms. Jackson called after them.
Nirav's hand tightened on their bag. They stopped abruptly and spun on their heel, then walked back into the classroom. A few students were hanging back, sorting out papers and chatting. Nirav hoped the would stop taking their sweet time and clear out.
"Mrs. Stillings. I want to ask you something," Ms. Jackson said, her back turned to Nirav as she filled in a few missing bits of information on the whiteboard. "You're never participating in class. At first, I thought it was that you simply had some sort of phobia about it, but now I'm getting the feeling you just don't care. Is this true?"
Nirav shrugged, focusing on a pad of sticky notes by Ms. Jackson's oak desk. She burrowed deeper into a scarf wrapped tightly around her neck
"Nirav, look at me." Ms. Jackson said softly, tilting Nirav's chin up.
Nirav stared into Ms. Jackson's stark brown gaze, their breathing steady. They scratched their neck absentmindedly through their scarf.
"Why don't you speak, is what I mean to say." Ms. Jackson corrected herself. "Is everything okay? You know, if you don't participate in these debates, I will have to fail you."
Nirav snatched a pen off of Ms. Jackson's desk, grabbing the pad of sticky notes and scrawling a message on it;
'I don't speak. I'm a mute, doesn't everyone know that?'
Ms. Jackson was quiet for a few moments. "Why have you not told me before, young lady?"
Nirav's eyes narrowed.
'I prefer they/them pronouns, thank you very much.' They wrote. The words became more of an untidy sprawl on the note, different from their usually clear penmanship.
Ms. Jackson sighed. "I'm glad you've alerted me of this. I'll try to figure something out. You are dismissed."
Nirav turned and rushed out of the classroom, wanting to hide in the safety of their dorm. They toyed with the chain concealed by the scarf as it tightened uncomfortably with all the words they wished desperately to speak.
They threw open the door and slammed it shut, locking the door behind them. Being unable to speak always made them jittery and irritable, like words were an energy wishing to be released but never could. It's was unbearably frustrating.
They threw their bag onto their bed and began pacing. Their body demanded that they move, making them spin in a circle one or twice, run their fingers through their hair, anything that kept them preoccupied. It was times like this where they hated their ancestors.
There was a knock on the door - three short raps - and then silence.
Nirav hesitated. They didn't like interacting with people. It was always frustrating, even if they could communicate, because people were very, very dumb. They stalled for a beat, then another, then walked toward the door and unlocked it.
There stood a gorgeous man. Cheesy Hernad-a-whatever. Was that his name? Probably. "Um, hey." He greeted, awkwardly. There was a slight tension and then he spoke up again. "Um, Mr. Lopez told me to give you this." He continued, holding out a small letter.
Nirav quickly grasped the letter out of his hands. They looked back up and smiled but he was already walking away. Nirav's smile dropped and they just rolled their eyes. They shut the door and opened the letter:
Dear Ms. Nirav Stillings,
On the recent account of the discovery of you being mute, we cannot allow you to stay at this school. In order for you to stay, you must participate and speak up. You have three days to clean out your dorm.
Sincerely,
Principal Lopez
Nirav dropped the letter in shock. They couldn't believe it. They picked up the letter and ripped the letter into pieces in rage. Nirav fell to the floor, feeling sadness and anger clashing. No, they thought. They stood up and wiped the tears, not allowing them self to be weak.
They bit their lip and stormed out of their dorm and headed to their *some type of ride*. Nirav headed out towards the place they always went when stressed: Rebel, the local cafe.
When they arrived, they ordered their normal Pixie Dust Cappuccino and a small cookie. Nirav looked around for a seat and saw the only one was next to a man with glasses on and a small dragon on his shoulder. They decided to sit next to him.
The chair creaked when Nirav sat down and the man's head twitched towards her. "Hello there, how are you?" He asked. Nirav didn't reply, feeling the chain hidden beneath their scarf scratch against their neck. "Lemme guess," The man sighed, "Mute. Do you know morse code?" He held out his hand. They smiled slightly and brought their hand up and tapping their skinny fingers against his hand.
Nirav tapped out, I am well. Are you blind? The man smiled. "My name is Pablo and yes I am blind." He answered. Nirav tapped again, My name is Nirav and you guessed right, I'm a mute
"Nirav? Curious." Pablo wondered.
Nirav reached for Pablo's hand and tapped their question. What is it?
Pablo smiled, a twinge of sadness pulling at the corners. "Nirav..." he started.
"Nirav, your name. Do you know what it means?"
Nirav tapped on Pablo's hand again. No, what is it?
"Your name, in some other language..." Pablo coughs. "... it means 'silent' or 'still-born'."
