Silent

by Sara Alva

  “Gotta write a paragraph about my family.”

  “So…do it.”

  “Yeah”—he stuck his tongue to the top of his crooked teeth and stared up thoughtfully—“but which family do I write about? My real one, or my foster family?”

  Foster family. My skin prickled with immediate rejection. No way was I part of any foster family.

  “Write about your real family, kid.”

  “Okay.” He nodded, gripping his pencil. It didn’t quite make it to the paper, though. “I have a brother. Do you have any brothers?”

  “Nah.”

  “My brother’s bigger than you.”

  “Good for him.”

  “He plays football.”

  “Will you please just write?”

  “You don’t play football? Dwayne and Brandon do.”

  “No, I don’t. And I don’t want to.”

  “My brother Jordan was gonna teach me how to play.”

  “Well maybe if you finish your homework you can go back to your real family and he’ll do that, okay?”

  Ryan bit his lip, his eyes fluttering down. “Nah. He won’t.”

  “Great brother you have there,” I muttered. Though I was really one to talk.

  Ryan’s pencil finally started to move across the paper, and I sighed in relief. Thank God he only had to write a paragraph.

  “’kay, done!” He shot up from his chair. “I’m gonna go watch TV!”

  At last. I picked up the paper and was shoving it into his folder when I remembered Ms. Loretta had said they’d check to make sure things were done right. That wasn’t really a big deal, though. I could just fix any mistakes myself—it’d be easier than having to drag the brat back over here.

  Pencil poised with the eraser tip down, I looked at what he’d written.

  I have a brothr. His name is Jordan. He play futball and he wus guna teech me but he ded now cuz he wus shot.

  Oh, fuck.

  ~*~

  I couldn’t get away for the cigarette I so desperately needed until after dinner. It was really fucking hard to get any time alone at this place.

  I crawled behind the shed again, but this time I sat facing left so I’d be able to catch Seb if he tried to sneak up on me. Not that I’d minded him all that much. Of all the people I was trapped here with, he was pretty much the most tolerable. At least he kept his mouth shut.

  One cigarette shrunk down to the butt, and I stamped it out. I’d told myself I was going to ration the pack—no more than three a week—but I really didn’t have much resolve. The day had sucked beyond measure, from my complete lack of a life at school, to dissing a little kid’s dead brother. Another cigarette was in order.

  This time it was only a slight breeze that caused me to look behind me, where I saw Seb standing inches away.

  Little fucker. How had he managed to get through the barely-one-foot clearance on the other side of the shed? And why?

  I stood up and crossed my arms. “Really, man?”

  His eyes bounced slightly, but his face remained completely expressionless. Maybe the retard had a sense of humor?

  “I hope you didn’t come for another cigarette, ’cause I ain’t gonna waste any more on you.”

  More bouncing black eyes.

  “Well, if you gonna stay, then sit down.”

  I did first, and he followed my lead. More comfortable leaning straight back against the shed, I rested my head and stared up at what would’ve been stars, if not for all the light pollution. “Shit, I’ve had a lousy day. Did you know that Ryan kid’s brother was dead? Do you know what happened?”

  Seb had started digging in the dirt again, tracing out spirals…and I really needed to learn to stop asking the kid questions.

  “Well, I’ll ask Brandon or something. I just wish I woulda known. I sorta said something stupid. I mean, he didn’t say nothing about it…maybe he’ll forget. Kids forget shit like that, right?”

  He lifted a pinch of dirt and then opened his fingers, letting the breeze carry it away.

  “I’m such a retard…uh, no offense or nothing.” I sighed. “I guess I just forget that everyone has their own shit going on. Maybe I’ve had my head up my ass…but today at school was just such complete crap.”

  Shifting his weight, Seb turned to look at me. I took that as my pass to go ahead and complain some more.

  “Do you know what I did during lunch? I ate alone. No one fucking said a word to me, so I finished in like five minutes and went and hid in the bathroom. Me, hiding in the bathroom! Can you fucking believe that shit? That ain’t me. I don’t hide in the bathroom unless I’m waiting to make a fucking deal or something!”

  I clamped my mouth shut, embarrassed by my sudden outburst.

  “This place…” I continued more calmly, “this is just not me. I don’t belong.”

  Seb wiped his hands on his jeans, leaving behind smudges of dirt, then gingerly reached over to me. I held still until his fingers came to a stop millimeters above the gauze on my wrist.

  “Oh, that?” I laughed bitterly. “Well, that’s it. That’s why I’m here.”

  Now that he’d drawn attention to the area, it started to itch. I scratched a bit through the fabric, but it didn’t really offer that much relief, so I went ahead and unwrapped it. Seb appeared fascinated, and I let him brush his pinky along the outskirts of the wound. It was healing up now, but it still looked pretty nasty, with red and pink rivers of flesh running through it.

  “It don’t really hurt anymore…and it definitely wasn’t worth all this shit. See, what happened was, this bitch teacher—”

  One of Seb’s fingers accidentally touched a part of the wound, and I inhaled sharply through the pain. “Hey, watch it.”

  He shoved his hands back into the dirt.

  “Anyways, I was saying, this bitch…” but I faltered there, thrown off by Seb’s wide, attentive eyes. I shook my head slowly. “Okay, so I guess she’s not really a bitch. I mean, I don’t think she liked me very much, but I wasn’t exactly a good student. I guess she was just doing her job. She thought my mom’s boyfriend did this to me.”

  Seb cocked his head, eyes narrowing. It was probably just my own thoughts getting in the way, but I really imagined that look said, And did he?

  I bit my lip. “You sure you can’t talk, right?”

  No response.

  Blowing out a breath, I finally gave in. “Yeah. Hector did it. He’s done other shit, too…but it wasn’t gonna go on forever. I had things under control.”

  Seb’s eyes drifted to the ground. He scooped up a handful of dirt and deposited it in a neat little mound, then smoothed out the sides.

  “So, whaddaya think, Seb—should I stick around? Or run away and try to find my mom?”

  Busy making another mound, Seb glanced up for only a second, and I thought maybe the corner of his lip twitched before he was expressionless again.

  And I still hadn’t learned to stop asking him questions.

  Without warning, he stood.

  “It’s lights out, huh,” I said as I followed. “You got super hearing? Or you one of those genius retards who can’t take care of himself but like always knows the time or something?”

  His eyes bounced again.

  “Well, anyways…thanks for letting me bitch for a while. Even if my problems ain’t such a big deal, compared to others.” I stuck out my hand and tousled his white-blond locks. “Too bad you can’t actually understand me.”

  It wasn’t really, though. I didn’t want anyone in this house to have the satisfaction of knowing just how lost I was.

  Chapter 8: Like You Wanna Kill Someone

  Watching the tips of my black Keds, I shuffled along in the lunch line. Someone jostled me from behind—by accident, probably—and I pushed back, making sure to give the offender a look that said he’d better not mess with me again. Then I returned to staring at my feet, absentmindedly tugging down the sleeve of the thin sweater I wore to keep my wrist hidden. Ms. Cecily had rep
laced the gauze with a rectangular bandage, but it still seemed best to keep it out of sight. The fact that it was on my damn wrist really did make it look like I might’ve tried to off myself.

  God, Hector was such a fucking asshole.

  I snagged a shrink-wrapped plate of tater-tots to add to the apple and chocolate milk already on my tray. The condensation along the top of the plastic film was starting to drip down onto the fried potato bits, and I knew by the time I got to a seat my food would be all soggy and gross. Not that I really ate much at lunch. I’d just make up for it later, ’cause as much as I couldn’t stand Ms. Loretta, she did cook some fucking good meals.

  There was probably another reason I didn’t have much of an appetite at lunchtime—that whole no-place-to-belong thing stood out here more than ever. Sometimes I skipped the meal altogether and went to sulk by the bathrooms, but today I spotted an empty table where I could keep to myself.

  On my way, I passed a laughing group of girls who had their eye on a guy in an athlete’s jacket a few seats down. I’d have liked to have my eye on him, too, if I weren’t feeling so sorry for myself. And besides that, I didn’t think I could get away with being both a loser transfer student and a creepy perv who stared at strangers. Without a social life to speak of, there really wasn’t an excuse for me to look at or hang around any hot guys.

  I sat with my back to the crowds and tried to block out the happy sounds. At this point, I didn’t know what would be worse—recognition that I was a fucking loser, sitting all by myself, or no recognition at all.

  “Hey.” A soft thunk accompanied the tray that suddenly landed to my right.

  I looked up to see a thin black girl with hair done in careful braids and tied off with white ribbons.

  Was she talking to me?

  “Uh, I said hey,” she repeated, eying me like I was a complete retard. I wondered if I looked at Seb that way.

  “Do I know you?” I returned the stare.

  “I don’t think you know anyone here.”

  Well, she certainly had me figured out. “So what?”

  “So, is that what you want?”

  “What do you care?”

  She stuck her shapely legs into the bench and sat next to me. “Who says I do?”

  “You’re the one talking to me.”

  “I know. I must be crazy or something.”

  “Must be,” I muttered, tearing the plastic wrap to get at my mushy tater-tots.

  “You been here a while now, and I haven’t seen you try to talk to anyone.”

  “Yeah, well I haven’t seen no one try to talk to me, either. What’s your point?”

  “Maybe they would if you didn’t walk around looking like you wanna kill someone.”

  I popped half a tater-tot into my mouth and turned to glare at her.

  “Yeah, like that.” She laughed. “That’s the look.”

  All right, maybe she had me there.

  I rolled my eyes, but grinned a little. She wasn’t bad looking, really. Nice skin, pretty smile…I wondered if I should try to make something of this.

  She probably took my half-smile as progress. “My name’s Laloni.”

  “Alex.” I gave her the cool Diego-style head nod.

  “So, Alex, what’s with the death stare?”

  “I don’t have a death stare.” I rolled my eyes again.

  “Don’t you want to make new friends?”

  “Not really. I was all right with the ones I had before I got here.”

  She nodded. “Fair answer.”

  “And what about you? Don’t you have your own friends already?” I highly doubted a girl like her was unattached from a social crowd.

  “Oh, I have plenty of friends…but I’ve been told I also have a thing for the charity cases.”

  “I didn’t ask for no charity.” I turned away, knowing my glare was back and not wanting to give her another thing to laugh at.

  “’Course you didn’t. I didn’t say I liked the needy types.”

  I was out of things to say that made any sense. Could she really have picked me out of a crowd just to flirt with? I mean, I knew I was attractive enough, but this seemed a little out of the ordinary.

  “Well, anyhow, I’m gonna go back over to my friends.” She pointed to another table. “But maybe I’ll see you around.”

  She left abruptly, and I watched her curvy rear as it swayed away. On second thought, she was more than just ‘not bad looking.’ Pretty, actually.

  I ate one more soggy tater-tot before switching to the apple for a better texture. Chewing thoughtfully, I considered taking the opening Laloni had given me. I had to admit it was possible I could establish a new life for myself at this school…but did that mean I was giving up on my old one?

  Shit, not my old one. My real one.

  Still…being less of a loser at school wouldn’t hurt. Maybe it’d make me feel more like myself, and help me get a grip on what it was I should be doing to make things right in my life again.

  And Laloni was hot, which could only help my reputation. I’d also never been with a black girl before, though I didn’t think my mother would’ve been too pleased.

  If she only knew the half of it.

  ~*~

  As it turned out, I didn’t have to wait very long to meet up with Laloni again. I caught sight of her leaning against the light pole in front of the school that afternoon, one knee turned in like she was posing for a picture. A few guys passed by to talk to her, and she tilted her hips, swinging her braids around as she laughed at whatever it was they were saying. With that level of easy confidence, no doubt the girl knew she looked good.

  Conflicting emotions rose in me immediately. Did I really want to start another pointless relationship? And even if I did, should I make contact again so soon? It might seem a bit desperate, and I’d kind of wanted to talk it over with Seb and a cigarette before taking any action.

  Then I shook my head violently, trying to clear the cobwebs from my mind. Talk it over with a retarded mute? That was the kind of behavior that was contributing to my loser image in the first place.

  “Hey, Laloni.” I called out to her, keeping my hands in my pockets and walking over slowly.

  “Hey, Alex,” she responded with a knowing smile. It kind of unnerved me, but I figured it was just because I was out of practice.

  “So, uh…you a freshman?”

  Brilliant conversation-starter. Of course she was a freshman, since we shared a lunch period.

  “Mhm. I think I have English after you…saw you leaving the classroom late the other day.”

  “Oh.” I shrugged. “Why rush out of class? Only losers do that.”

  She laughed. “Whatever you say, Alex.”

  I was striking out here, and I knew it. I didn’t usually have to work this hard to get a girl interested. Maybe since I’d never really wanted a girl interested in the first place.

  “So…uh…I just moved here. Neighborhood seems kinda lame. What do you guys do for fun around here?”

  When she laughed, the ribbons on the ends of her braids danced back and forth. “Hang out with friends, mostly. What was so great about the neighborhood you came from? They had some kind of under-eighteen club or something?”

  “Uh…” I kicked at a white scuff on my Keds. “No. We’d throw our own parties, I guess.”

  “And there’s a rule that says you can’t do that here?”

  There was, actually. Ms. Loretta only allowed birthday parties, and mine wasn’t for another few months.

  “Oh, guess you’d need friends for that,” she added, her face straight but her eyes mocking.

  I cringed. Maybe she hadn’t liked me at all. Maybe the whole reason she’d talked to me at lunch was for her own amusement.

  Either way, it was seriously time to make my exit from this train-wreck of a conversation.

  “I’m gonna go home now,” I mumbled. No reason to wait around for Dwayne and Brandon, since they liked to loiter in the hallways after class.
I didn’t really see the appeal in that, but then again, I didn’t see the appeal in going back to the house, either.

  “I’ll walk with you,” Laloni said, and without hesitation fell into step beside me.

  Now I was really confused. She was going to follow me home? I didn’t even know Ms. Loretta’s rules about having girls over. Didn’t sound like something she’d go for.

  “Uh, sure,” I stammered, as if she needed my permission. We were already on our way, anyhow. “You don’t got nothing better to do?”

  She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Not today.”

  We crossed several squares of sidewalk before I could come up with something else to say. “So…you know of any parties happening around here?”

  “If there are any, I’ll be sure to let you know about ’em.”

  Finally, a fucking inkling of a chance with her. Though when I thought of having to go to a party, my guts rolled around in protest. I wished there was a way to be cool without having to plaster on a fake smile and act like you enjoyed drunken morons. Which reminded me…

  “You guys drink and stuff?”

  She shrugged again. “Depends on the party, I guess. But I don’t do that shit.”

  I might’ve stopped walking for a second.

  “What, that surprises you?” she asked, crossing her arms as her head darted from side to side.

  “Sort of. Usually the girls that stay clear of that stuff are…losers…and you don’t seem like that.”

  “Huh. That’s funny. Because you do seem like a loser, and I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you don’t stay clear of that stuff.”

  I stuck my hands out defensively. “Whoa. What the hell. I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

  She smiled brightly, braids bobbing. “Neither was I.”

  We’d almost reached the house, and I was torn between an overwhelming urge to be rid of her, and a desire to know just what it was she’d seen in me that had caused her to approach me in the first place.

  “Look, I don’t really get you,” I said—one of the most honest things I’d told anyone in ages. “Why exactly are you hanging around me right now? Do you, uh…”