Mute

1- Encounter

Anna's P.O.V.~

I'm not deaf. That's one thing to get out of the way.

I can hear the words that others speak. I could formulate thoughts on a response. Though, don't expect me to answer you with any. At least not with my own voice. It's been this way ever since I lost her.

Mom.

Growing up, all I had was a mother. She was the one who fed, bathed, and clothed me. Any spare time was spent working to provide for us. When I was sick, who stayed home and nursed me? Not my father, who wasn't around to watch me grow up. In fact, he never was in the picture to begin with. Mom had left him before finding out herself that she was pregnant with me. From what she had told me- it's better that I don't know him.

"Now Anna, if you don't like it there we can still pull you out." My grandmother reaches out and tucks a piece of bronze hair behind my left ear, "It's still early in the year, you can just-" her voice cuts off warily as she fights to say goodbye even though it's only a few hours till she see me again. I flash her a soft smile of reassurance. We've went over a bunch of times about going back to public school. Now that I'm finally ready, she seems to have ill thoughts.

Nana looks at me empathically and wraps her arms around me tightly. "You're all grown up." I hug her back with a squeeze. I wish I could thank her for everything she does and continues to do for me. I wish I could tell her that I'll always be her little girl.

"Now get going," She ushers me wiping away the tears she shed, "the bus is going to be here soon."

*****

The tires of the bright yellow bus screeched against the pavement as it came to a halt in front of me. Double doors open, revealing a disheveled looking older man in the driver seat. His hair looked like a dirty mop attached to his scalp, and the clothes he wore had random stain splotches from god knows what. There was no introductory or even a side glance from him while I entered the transport.

The smell was pungent and I couldn't explain the stench other than school bus. A congregation of voices piled on top of each other and I was nervous to meet who they belonged to. I felt my stomach begin to knot with anxiety as I walked up the few stairs that led to the aisle of seats.

Most passengers sat in the back of the bus. As it went up to the booths in the front, fewer sat. There was only a couple completely empty seats. Since I don't know anyone yet, I chose to occupy one of those vacant seats. I tugged on my seat belt to fasten it across my lap, even though from what I could see- no one else was wearing one. Many were standing, talking to their friends behind them and across the aisle, while I went unnoticed. For that, I was relieved. I leaned my head on the glass window and watched the going traffic until we arrived.

Soon enough a large sign with "Wilted Manor High School" printed in navy blue came to view. Other buses were parked out front with pupils exiting from them. All following each other into the building.

When those double doors re-opened, I was the last to get out. Nervously clutching the rail of the coach, gawking at the scene in front of me. Girls wearing high cut tops; exposing a lot of their tummies. I wasn't even allowed to wear a two piece bathing suit. Boys had their caps on backwards and pants sagging showing the bands of their boxers. What I'm wearing now is nothing like their provocative clothing. A dark blue knitted sweater covered my upper half. The most skin showing was from the rips in my black high waisted jeans. Let me mind you, I had to persuade my grandma into buying them. She only agreed because they came off the clearance rack. I began feeling self conscious of my outfit choice, yet my whole closet consisted of this similar style.

Entering the halls of the high school like joining a mosh pit. A bunch of people swarming past and through each other. Whether it's to make it to class, find their friends, locker or whatever. Dumbfounded on what my next move should be, I glance down at my schedule and back to the numbers on the doors. My first period class was held in room 217E. What is the E supposed to mean?

Slowly but surely, the crowded aisle became less and less crowded. A beep blares from the speakers; the tardy bell. Great first impression, Anna. You're late, and you have no idea where you're going. I huff, speed walking down the corridor. A tall boy, with a mop of curly brown hair stood on the other side of the hall, his head bowed as his attention was focused on a piece of paper he held in his hands. He looked older, like he didn't belong in high school.

A thin black tee dressed his torso- I could see his bulging biceps almost tearing the seams of his sleeves. I came to notice the several tattoos raking up his arms. A ship, a rose, an anchor from what I could see.

My grandmother would find his appearance appalling. She has warned me to never get tattoos, that it's on you for the rest of your life. But I came to wonder if his tattoos had a meaning behind them. Vibrant green eyes met mine, making my breath hitch. He was undeniably beautiful. Perfect cheekbones, a sharp jawline that had some stubble, and full pink lips. He looks back down at the paper once more before he starts to stalk closer to me.

"Do you know know where room 217E is?" His smooth British accent asks and I just blinked for a few seconds. 217E. That's the class I'm supposed to be looking for.

I shake my head no, showing him my schedule in hopes that he understands what I'm getting at. "So we're both lost I'm assuming." His deep dimples popping as he gave me a warm smile. I took notice of his white pristine teeth. He has a smile that's seemingly contagious, I couldn't help but grin in return.

"You have really pretty and unique eyes." He compliments me unequivocally. Heat rises to my cheeks and I look away bashfully. My lashes flutter over my two different colored lenses, one eyes ocean blue and the other a brownish hazel.

Heterochromia; a condition where the eyes are two completely different colors. I wasn't used to compliments; Or responding to one.

"What's wrong? Can't talk?" He chuckles, practically towering over me with his height. I only stand at five foot. My head casted downward his question, unsure how to tell him he's absolutely right but also wrong. Which resulted in him giving me a look of confusion. Typical. Instead of questioning further, his eyes scan the schedule in my hands.

"We actually have a lot of classes together- " He then studies the top of the paper, "Anastasia." My name rolls off his tongue like velvet.

"I'm Harry. Harry Styles" He smiles revealing pristinely white teeth and deeply carved dimples. "C'mon, I think class is this way." A large hand engulfs my tiny one. My hands must have been cold, because his were oddly warm.