BIG SIS

8. Takes Two to Tango, and Three to Rob a Bank

Morning brought black skies and thunder. Collin thought the weather fitting, although he didn't much like how Mrs. Weavers startled at every flash of light. Breakfast was quiet and tense. The ride to school was worse; Mr. Weaver clutched the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, expression bleak. Collin expected the man to turn the car around every time they stopped at a red light.

If Iris was bothered by any of it, it didn't show. She spent the ride staring out the window. Collin did the same, sneaking glances whenever he could get away with it. He thought he could see a little bit of the scar where Iris had tucked her hair behind her ear, but maybe he was imagining things.

The drive took longer than it probably needed to. The rain pounded over the windows and roof, enclosing the car in a bubble of silence. Collin was hyper-aware of every minute, gut tight with borrowed tension. He tried to think of something to say that wasn't inane comments about the weather. They reached school before he found a suitable topic.

Mr. Weaver reached into the back and hugged Iris, told her to call if she needed anything, anything at all.

"Don't worry, da," Iris said, in a tone that passed for comforting if one was deaf.

Mr. Weaver hugged Collin, too. Collin had to swallow over the lump in his throat before he could offer his own goodbye, which came out as a rather pathetic, "See you."

They walked to the door under murky skies. Mr. Weaver was still in the lot when Collin turned to check under the guise of folding up his umbrella, just before they went inside. He probably meant to hang out until the late bell. Collin didn't think Iris needed the safety net, but if it made Mr. Weaver feel better, who was he to judge.

It was close enough to first period that the halls were full. People stared and whispered, but no one came up to them - a far cry from the stampede of well-wishers Collin had expected. In fact, the looks they were getting were downright unpleasant.

Collin glared at a gaggle of gaping freshmen blocking their way, somewhat satisfied when they scattered like pigeons. "What's their problem?" he growled.

"It's the scar," Iris said.

Collin glanced at her, confused. "But your hair is down," he said before remembering the other, more visible mark of her disappearance.

Iris arched a brow. The scar over her blind eye pulled tight, glinting bone-white. Collin shrugged sheepishly. He no longer saw the scar when he looked at her. The blind eye was as part of Iris as her lips or nose, nothing whatsoever strange about it.

"It's still rude," he muttered. Iris laughed under her breath.

Ms. Hayes, the homeroom teacher, met them at the door with an anxious smile and an overly-chirpy greeting. She pulled Iris aside for a chat. Collin grabbed a seat close to the front, which wasn't his usual style. He kept an eye on Iris as subtly as he knew how. Most of the class did the same, and with less care of being noticed. A few of the guys in the back got rowdy, elbowing each other and making vaguely baboonish noises. Collin smirked to himself. He was very much looking forward to witnessing inept attempts at flirting aimed at Iris.

"Class, we have a new student joining us," Ms. Hayes announced. She waved Iris forward with another strained smile. "This is Iris Weaver," she said, and then sort of trailed off, hand still gesturing, mouth open, no words coming out.

The whispers picked up. Someone'd googled Iris while Ms. Hayes fumbled her introduction. A phone was passed around. Up front, Ms. Hayes wrung her hands while Iris smiled benevolently, like a conquering tyrant.

"Yes, I am that Iris," she said.

Ms. Hayes cleared her throat. "We are very happy to have Iris with us. Let's make her feel welcome," she said, her expression saying, or else.