Identity

by E. J. Mara

  My heart pounding, I do as told and turn to face the window while the bus driver goes on about how she doesn’t know what’s gotten into me. Meanwhile, Tessa smacks as loudly as humanly possible on her candy while everyone else on the bus whispers and giggles. I can practically feel their eyes on us.

  My cheeks burning, I dare not let my gaze leave the window. It’s times like this when I’d give anything to be normal, to have a life like Julia’s …or even Esther’s. Esther Reams is wealthy beyond belief and popular, not to mention that she doesn’t have a little sister who gets candy thrown at her, or a father who manages to embarrass her nearly every hour of every day. Esther was basically born into a fairy tale. Why couldn’t I have been born into a life like hers?

  Tears blur my vision, and feeling stupid for letting myself get so emotional, I blink them away. A lot of people look at Tessa and feel sorry for her because she’s so obviously different. But Tessa isn’t the only one who’s “different.” When you’re a CODA, it’s not like you’re average. For me, being a Child of Deaf Adults meant that as early as six years old, I had to interpret, not only for Tessa, but for Mom. Of course Mom tried to save me from the responsibility of interpreting big things, like her Doctor’s appointments and other adult conversations between herself and the hearing world, but sometimes she had no choice but to use me.

  That kind of responsibility does something to a kid. I can’t quite put into words what that “something” is, but I still feel it inside of me, a weight that I bet no one else at my school has. I’m different from them in a way that even I don’t understand.

  And it’s not just that I’m different from my classmates, I’m not even the same as my own family! A couple of years ago I was bored and looking through Mom’s books, trying to find something to read, when I stumbled across a thick book called “Deaf and Raising Hearing Children.” Mom had sticky notes on some of the pages, so out of curiosity I opened the book to one such page. She’d highlighted a sentence in yellow marker: “Children of Deaf Adults (CODA’s) can be described as the most conflicted members of Deaf culture. They often search for their identity in both the Hearing and Deaf worlds, but find a home in neither.”

  As soon as I read that, my heart sank. I’d always suspected that I didn’t really belong anywhere, not even with my own family, and all of a sudden here was the proof, written in a book. Eventually, that highlighted sentence became a whisper in the back of my mind, following me wherever I went.

  Now, the fire in my stomach flares up and I close my eyes. I’m being way too negative and it’s just making me feel worse, I need to get a grip on my thinking.

  I open my eyes, exhaling slowly.

  As our bus pulls into Peake High, I turn my attention to the student parking lot, watching the kids from Nathaniel and Julia’s neighborhood park their shiny sports cars and trucks. I spot Nathaniel’s black Jeep and, my heart skipping a beat, I sit up straighter in my seat. The Jeep’s passenger door springs open and Julia emerges.

  Surprise washes over me. So he brought her to school too?

  Julia is talking and laughing, exuding unrestrained happiness as she tosses her hair over her shoulder and then straightens her short beige skirt. Nathaniel, meanwhile, slides out of the driver’s side and hoists his backpack onto his shoulders.

  I realize that I’m grinding my teeth and try to relax my jaw. Why should I care about the two of them? Nathaniel and I are friends and that’s all. Besides, I need to stop being paranoid about him going back to Julia. He would never …

  My thoughts come to a halt as Julia approaches Nathaniel, places her hands on each of his shoulders and leans towards him. He slides his hands around her waist and kisses her.

  I freeze, my every breath arriving in slow motion.

  Nathaniel ends their kiss and Julia leans towards him, grinning as she says something.

  I seem to have gone numb …like a shot Novocain’s been injected into my heart. But I can’t tear my eyes away from the two of them. It’s like when I’m hungry and I know there’s nothing in the fridge, but I keep staring at the empty shelves, some OCD part of me needing to continually reaffirm what I’m seeing.

  Julia kisses Nathaniel again and all I can do is stare at them until my eyes are as numb as my heart.

  “HAVE A GOOD day girls,” Ms. Greenich, our guidance counselor, calls as we pass her in the hall. I return her greeting with a grunt.

  Ignoring the kids around me, I turn to Tessa, making sure she’s still by my side. She is, and she’s signing to herself, enjoying a little conversation with herself about how handsome Cary Grant is.

  Returning my attention to our trek to her first-hour, I shake my head at the memory of that kiss …and I thought Nathaniel was different from other guys. I guess that’s what happens when you put too much faith in someone. The people you care about the most will always let you down. Why is that? Is it because I care about them more than they care about me? Maybe the little moments I’ve treasured with Nathaniel meant more to me than they did to him. I guess that’s obvious now. And Mom…there was a time when she loved me and Tessa, but towards the end, she stopped caring.

  Sighing, I re-situate my backpack on my shoulders, and a tall boy who’s repeatedly tossing a baseball in the air and then catching it, passes me, bumping my shoulder. I turn around and glare at him.

  “Derrick! Rude much? You practically knocked Karen over. ”

  I come to a halt at the sound of Julia’s voice. She, Lucy, and Esther are just ahead, coming my way.

  “Sorry, Cameron,” the tall guy calls from behind me.

  “Her name’s Karen,” Julia shouts with a laugh.

  “Oh. My bad, Carol,” the boy replies, his voice fading into the distance.

  I tense as the overly-mascaraed triplets approach, their high heels clicking in unison.

  “Oh my God, he’s such a jock, right?” Julia murmurs with a dismissive wave of her hand. Without waiting for my reply, she continues, “Karen, we have to talk. I have major news. You busy after school?”

  My stomach burning, I mumble, “Yeah, I’m busy. Sorry.”

  “Aw, come on. Just hang out with us. I want to talk,” Julia whines. She reaches into her purse, retrieving a tube of lip gloss. It’s got pictures of tiny strawberries all over it. Whiles she’s smearing the shiny goo across her lips I can’t help but wonder how much of it Nathaniel is inadvertently wearing after having kissed her. I bet he’s even got some of the crap on his chin by now. Frustration tearing through me, I shift on my feet, and avert my eyes while Julia shoves the lipgloss back into her cute little purse.

  “Jules,” Lucy whispers, “Karen’s mom just passed. Give her a break.” Lucy offers me a sympathetic smile.

  I don’t return her fake smile because come on ...really? This rich bimbo rarely talks to me in gymnastics and only mentions my name to make fun of my clothes. Now I’m supposed to believe she suddenly feels sorry for me? That’s hearing people for you …

  “Sorry, Jules. I have practice after school,” I reply, stealing a peek at Esther Reams, who hasn’t said much at all.

  Actually, Esther isn’t even pretending to care. Oblivious to my existence even as she stands right in front of me, she toys with a few strands of her dirty blonde hair and stares off into the distance, completely ignoring me.

  “Um, seriously Karen? I think your Coach would understand if you missed one more practice considering what you’re going through. Come on, chica.” Julia gives my shoulder a light punch. I glare at her and she arches an eyebrow. “Or maybe we can hang out another time.”

  “Yeah, another time.”

  “Aight, Karen, I tried.” Julia sighs. “Well, I’ve got to get to first hour, so-” My sister emits a loud grunt and Julia stops speaking. All three of the girls, even Esther, turn their attention to Tessa and my sister is suddenly signing frantically, her hands flying everywhere.

  “Stupid, you. Nathaniel marry me, not you. You stupid,” Tessa signs, her eyes flashing anger as she star
es Julia down.

  “Oh, my God. She looks possessed.” Lucy grabs Esther’s arm and backs away.

  Julia’s eyes widen as she, too, inches away from my sister. “Uh, what’s she saying, Karen?”

  “That she doesn’t want to be late for class,” I lie through gritted teeth, “and of course my sister isn’t possessed, Lucy.”

  Julia offers me a weak smile, her gaze darting to Tessa as she says, “Okay, uh, well …we’ll talk later, Karen.”

  “Yeah,” I reply, my tone dry. Beside me, Tessa makes another low, guttural noise in the back of her throat. “Later.” I take my sister’s hand and start down the hall. The pain in my stomach intensifying, I try not to think about Julia and Nathaniel kissing, but I stared at them for too long and now the image is burned into my brain.

  The first-hour bell rings and we become officially late.

  “Great,” I mumble.

  I pull Tessa on towards her Development Class, but she lags behind, grunting as she roots around in her backpack.

  “Geez, Tessa,” I mutter, dropping her hand and turning to her. My sneakers make an annoying squeaking sound against the linoleum as I sign, “See how empty the hallway is? That means we’re super late. So, come on, hurry up!”

  “No!” Tessa snaps, swatting at me with an opened palm before continuing to dig through her backpack.

  “Why are you being like this?” I retort. “Just do what I say and-”

  Loud footsteps sound in the distance, stopping me midsentence. Just beyond Tessa, Esther Reams, minus the rest of her preppy trio, runs towards us.

  She’s running full speed, like she’s on the verge of a tumbling pass, her long hair streaming behind her and her eyes focused straight ahead. She’s no longer wearing her book bag and in her left hand, she grasps something small and black.

  I glance at her shoes. Three inch heels. How can she run so fast in those?

  My sister, a few feet in front of Esther, and unaware of the high-heeled bullet behind her, takes a step left, inadvertently planting herself right splat in Esther’s path.

  I dart forward to pull her out of Esther’s way, but I’m too slow. Esther collides with Tessa’s shoulder, the impact knocking my sister to the ground and sending her backpack, along with its contents, sprawling across the hallway. Tessa grunts as she hits the ground, and I gasp.

  “Sorry!” Esther yells without turning around. She just keeps running, leaving a trail of flowery scented perfume in her wake.

  “Jackass,” I mutter, pulling my sister to her feet and giving her a quick once over. Her ponytail is askew, but other than this she seems alright.

  “Are you hurt?” I demand, my stomach twisting into fiery knots.

  Tessa shakes her head and points to Esther, who’s now running through the school’s exit doors. “Stupid girl, hearing stupid.”

  “Yeah,” I sign, the pain in my stomach intensifying and my pulse racing, “hearing people are stupid. Especially when they’re rich jerks.”

  I glance at my sister as she smooths down her mussed hair and my gaze returns to the exit doors through which Esther’s passed. Little Miss Perfect didn’t even bother to stop and help Tessa up, she just kept running.

  That’s it. I’m done letting people walk all over us. “Go to class,” I sign, meeting Tessa’s eyes. “Do you understand me?”

  Tessa nods and, frowning, adjusts her backpack on her shoulders.

  I point to her classroom. “Go now.”

  Tessa rolls her eyes, but does as told. As soon as the classroom door closes behind her, I ditch my book bag and sprint to the end of the hallway. Thinking but not thinking, I push through the exit doors, run into the sunlight, and there’s Esther, headed to the student parking lot.

  Increasing my speed, I follow her, determined to catch up. When I’m only a few feet behind her, I shout, “Hey!”

  She turns around and, surprise registering in her features, comes to a halt. “Karen? Look, I’m really sorry but I don’t have time to talk.”

  I grab her arm, pull her towards me, and the little black thing she’s holding clatters to the cement. Esther’s eyes widen and she starts to say something, but I punch her.

  I don’t think, I just push my fist into her nose. Her hands going to her nose, she stumbles backwards.

  “You hurt my sister and you ran away!” I shout, my voice sounding as if it belongs to someone else. “You can’t do that. You can’t just push people around!”

  “I didn’t mean to.” Esther raises one of her hands in surrender, the other remaining over her nose. I lunge for her, but she darts out of reach.

  Her eyebrows going up, she chuckles. “Look, Karen, I’m sorry. But seriously, I-”

  “Why are you laughing?” I shout, shoving her into the side of a nearby car.

  Drops of blood fall from Esther’s nose, dotting her sky blue blouse with red as she slams into the vehicle’s passenger door with a thud. The car’s alarm goes off, slicing the air with an incessant beeping.

  “Do you really think it’s funny?” I scream. “Hurting my sister is funny?”

  Esther regains her balance, and crouching, grabs the black thing she’s dropped. With that, she moves away from the car. I lunge for her again, but she sidesteps and I stumble forwards.

  “Karen!” Someone behind me shouts.

  “No. I don’t think it’s funny and I’m sorry,” Esther says, her grin gone and her expression grave. She backs away from me and lifts her hands in surrender while a trail of blood flows from her nose, sending more drops to her ruined blouse.

  My breath gets stuck in my chest and my thoughts are hit with a memory …the blood in Mom’s nose as she lay on the floor beside her bed, her eyes closed and her hair half-covering her face …

  Now, my stomach sloshes every which way and the parking lot begins to spin.

  What’s wrong with me? What did I just do?!

  I drop to my knees, panting and look up to find Esther gone.

  “Karen!” Just below the noise of the car alarm, an adult calls my name and several pairs of footsteps close in behind me. I turn around and the school guidance counselor, Ms. Greenich, is running towards me. Behind her are the principal and two more teachers, all of them shouting at me.

  Oh, my God. What have I done?

  Lately I’ve been obsessed with figuring out what’s wrong with me. Now, from my perch on top of the filing cabinet, I stare down at Mom’s desk, considering this.

  When I was a kid, I’d pretend to be sick and ask her to check me out of school. She’d pick me up, we’d get ice cream, and then she’d bring me to her job at the hospital, both of us knowing there was nothing wrong with me other than a lingering bruise or two. I’d stay in her office for the better part of the day, Mom and the other nurses intermittently checking on me, until her shift was over.

  This office, and especially this desk within her office, became the safest place I knew. Dad never came to the hospital; everyone here knew Mom and would’ve protected her.

  To make sure I was extra safe, I’d camp out under Mom’s desk and stay there for hours, playing with toys, grabbing the phone and calling my Grandma Colbert, making sure I didn’t say anything bad about Dad during our long conversations.

  Now, I’m sixteen and right back where I started, hiding in my mother’s office when I’m supposed to be at school. At least I’m not under her desk playing with action figures.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I let my gaze drift to the window behind Mom’s desk.

  Below the branches of the red oaks, an ambulance pulls into the ER’s driveway while my thoughts return to the way Julia looked at me after I kissed her this morning.

  We’d just pulled into the school parking lot and I did it automatically. I just ...kissed her. As soon as I did, her eyes brightened and she said, “You finally kissed me back.” After that, Julia kissed me again, harder. I stood there like a statue, nausea washing over me. Everything about that moment felt wrong, the kiss, the way Julia was looki
ng up at me like I was the best thing that had ever happened to her …it was all so wrong.

  When she finally turned around to walk to class, I made a beeline back to my Jeep. She asked me where I was going and I invented some lame excuse about forgetting my Math book at home. In any case, I ended up here, in the very same hideout I’d had as a scared six year old.

  The office door flies opens and Mom rushes in. “Querido?” Closing the door behind her, she heads straight for her desk and looks under it.

  “Jesus, Mom, I’m not six.”

  My voice startling her, she jumps and covers her heart with her hand. At the sight of me, her mouth twitches, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “Nathaniel, how many times do I have to tell you not to use the Lord’s name in vain? And what are you? A cat?” Resituating her hands onto her hips, she nods to the chair on the other side of her desk. “Come down and sit.”

  I jump down from the file cabinet and it emits a cranky groan. Mom eyes get so wide they look like they’re going to pop out of her head as she glances up, her expression pinched with nerves. I fleetingly wonder if that’s how crazy I look like when I get stuck on the high bar.

  “That thing could have fallen with you on it,” she says. “I don’t want you sitting up there anymore.”

  “I wouldn’t have let it fall.”

  “Just don’t sit up there anymore. Alright?”

  “Alright, fine.” Before I can take a seat, Mom’s on her tiptoes, bringing her wrist to my forehead.

  “What’s the matter?” Satisfied that I don’t have a fever, she examines the lymph nodes in my neck, frowning. “Are you sick or do you think you pulled something in practice? I can grab an X-ray tech to take a look for you.”

  I move her hands from my neck and plop into the seat across from her desk. “It’s not that.”

  She watches me carefully, her left eyebrow arched, pronouncing the scar just above it. The blemish is care of my father. He gave it to her the year she tried sending me to boarding school. Other than it, Mom’s olive skin, the same color as mine, shows little indication of the hell she’s been through. I guess mine doesn’t show much either. The worst of our injuries are invisible, making a brief appearance when we suddenly freeze up for no reason.