The Art of Learning to Speak

Chapter 1

The rest of the day was filled with swimming, food eating, and a campfire near the early evening. There was just enough people, who were invited by my sister and brother--I didn't invite anyone--to fill up the log seats huddled around the fire.

I sighed with content as I felt my damp clothes warm up, curtesy of Uncle Davis's huge fire he had stoked up.

Oh, and somehow I had managed to sit next to Evelyn. This was because I was avoiding my sister for majority of the afternoon. Our conversation during our second dip in the lake went something like this:

Sandra: "So why do you like her?"

Me: "I never said I did. Stop putting words in my mouth."

Sandra: "But I can tell. It's written all over your face."

Me: "No it's not."

Sandra: "Yes it is."

Me: "Get lost."

I, and you probably wouldn't have been able to either, couldn't handle her nosiness anymore, so I found a seat between my brother, Levi, and Evelyn.

I didn't say one word through the entire campfire.

"You kids start school up in a few weeks, don't you?"

There was a collective wave of groans.

"Ohhh, don't be like that." said Uncle Davis, who was an optimist at its finest, if I ever saw one.

"Please, don't remind us." said my brother. He was sitting next to his friends, the twins, Roger and Rachel Smith, who were sitting next to their friend Alyssa Steinbeck.

And they all looked as miserable as the next at the prospect of heading back to the one place that no one wants to be during a sunny day like this one.

"You kids have it good. Too good," said Uncle Davis. "In fact, you probably aren't aware of how many kids your age would love to attend school."

"Well, aren't they lucky?" chuckled my brother, who shouldered me.

I shouldered back.

While Uncle Davis resumed his lecture of The Importance of Junior High Education, I glanced sideways over at Evelyn, who was chewing silently on a smores. The fire danced in her eyes like sparklers on the Fourth of July, the flames dancing across her face. She wouldn't look up to anyone, even when Alyssa asked her if she was excited to go to school.

A part of me felt happy that she felt the same as I did. But then I wondered why she couldn't openly express that feeling, like everyone else.

When the fireflies started coming out, our parents arrived in my father's old pickup truck. There were finger marks on the glass from where I had drawn on the windows during the rain. It wasn't half-bad art.

"Hey, kids, did you have a good time?"

Sandra let out something between a sigh and a yawn. Levi said, "Yep," before putting his head up against the window. I smiled, catching my father's eye in the rear-view mirror. His eyes looked tired underneath his glasses.

My mother stifled a giggle at the looks of my brother and sister, who were half asleep.

But sometimes, looks can be deceiving. And the whole world can come crashing down upon you in less than five seconds.

Because when we were on the road, not even halfway home, my sister opened her mouth, moving nothing but her lips.

"Sam likes a girl."

If there was a hole on the side of the road, even one the size of a manhole cover, I would have jumped right into it.

My father said nothing, as opposed to my mother, who started asking questions like she was back in high school again.

"Ooh, who is she? What's her name? Does she go to your school?"

Apparently my brother was deceiving everyone, too.

"It's that deaf girl. He met her at Uncle Davis's lake."

I pulled my jacket tighter around my shoulders, trying to reach it over my head so I might be forever engulfed in cotton.

"No, she's not deaf, Levi. She's mute."

My mother covered her mouth with her hand. "She can't speak?"

Sandra snorted. "Oh, she can speak alright. She's just selectively mute."

It was my father's turn to snort. "Selectively mute. Why, I've never-

"It's true!" said Sandra, in a slight increase in volume, which happened to erupt into my right ear. "She only talks when she feels comfortable."

"Hmm...I don't see anything wrong with that." said my mother. The truck pulled into the driveway as he said, "Now that's just called being a coward."

I think everyone was a little hurt after Dad's comment.

Sandra wouldn't speak to him for the rest of the night. I turned in early, laying on my bed and staring up at the ceiling.

So that's why Evelyn wouldn't talk. She didn't feel comfortable around us.

Which meant that I made Evelyn Winkler uncomfortable.