having you here beside me but it’s the best I can do right now.
I miss you so much. Father and especially Momma have tried their best to spend extra time with me and do stuff together. On Labor Day we all three went to the pool. Can you believe that! When was the last time you saw Father in a bathing suit not at the beach? But there he was sitting on the lounger talking to Ed Carver about golf. I think they both wished they were golfing but this was a family holiday and family duty calls! Besides, Father had been golfing on Saturday with the gang from work and Momma laid down the law a long time ago—one round per week max! But you knew that already. So we hung out at the pool and Father even dragged me in for a swim before we came home. Then we went to the Richardsons’ for a cookout. I bet you can guess how much fun I had with Billy and Joe Richardson sitting there looking at me like I was some kind of freak, not sure what I was good for and afraid to ask. Momma took pity on me and had me help Mrs. Richardson and her set the picnic table and cut up the vegetables for the salad. Mrs. Richardson has a new appliance called a food processor that will chop or slice vegetables very quickly. She showed me how but the thing scared me. So she gave me a paring knife and a cutting board and let me do it the old-fashioned way. It took longer but kept me occupied and away from the boys. In the meantime Mr. Richardson and Father got the grill lit and cooked the hotdogs and hamburgers. They were mostly alright but a few got a little charred. My salad was the best part, if I do say so myself! After dinner we all played badminton, our family against theirs. Even though we were short a player, we still beat them the first game. Then they beat us. Then it got too dark to see the birdie before we were able to finish the rubber match. Billy said they won but I knew it was a tie when we finally called it. I wanted Momma to speak up for us but she just kept quiet. You wouldn’t have let him get away with that.
Then it was back to school on Tuesday. It was almost like having to start all over again after the long weekend. At least I know my way around now and am getting to know the teachers’ different habits and mannerisms. And the homework isn’t that difficult. I’m having a little trouble with the algebra, but I know Father will help me out if I get stuck. The problem isn’t the teachers or the schoolwork, it’s the students. I’m not sure what I expected, but I definitely didn’t expect to be treated like some sort of precious roaming exhibit! You said to watch out for girls talking behind my back or boys trying to get me alone but there’s been none of that. I’d die for a little of that kind of attention! In the beginning they stared, now they hardly notice me anymore. I’ll look up and smile and try to catch their eyes but they always either look away or look past me to someone else. I don’t know if they’re afraid of me or puzzled by what to do but the overall effect is they can’t be bothered with the deaf girl. I knew it would be hard to make friends, but I didn’t know it would be this hard.
There is one boy, though. His name is Paul and he’s a junior too and a transfer from Virginia. I found that out from Mrs. Ferguson in the guidance office where I go for study hall. She’s become my friend and has records on all the kids. She’s not supposed to share that information, of course, but she let me know Paul’s father is an executive in the tobacco company and was transferred here over the summer. Paul’s really smart and thinking of going to an Ivy League school. Anyway, he’s not in any of my classes but we have the same lunch period and I see him sitting on the other side of the cafeteria and sometimes catch him looking my way. He sits with some of the other smart kids, you know the ones always carrying around the bulging book bags and staring off in space like they’re trying to solve some complicated equation or assemble a new organic compound. But Paul isn’t like that. He looks at people and acknowledges their presence and tries to help them out. One day I saw him help a freshman who dropped her books while trying to carry some sort of exhibit. He picked up her books and carried them all the way to her classroom. Isn’t that sweet?
Still, he hasn’t ever directly acknowledged me or tried to speak to me. I don’t know if he’s shy or intimidated or busy with other stuff. Probably he doesn’t even know I exist and is just looking out the window or to someone behind me when I think he’s looking my way. You always said I had an active imagination. Maybe now it’s just pointed toward this boy named Paul. But my imagination can only go so far. My wishing can only go so far. I’m ready for someone to walk up and actually say “hello.” That would be nice.
Speaking of someone saying “hello,” I saw Danny drive by the other day. He was picking up his younger brother Joshua who I think usually takes a bus but must’ve had an appointment or something. Anyway, Danny saw me and waved. And I waved back even though I knew you wouldn’t want me to. It was nice to have someone other than a teacher acknowledge my existence. But then he drove on and I haven’t seen him since.
It sounds like you’re having a great time at college. I’m glad you’re making friends so quickly and have so much fun stuff to do. I can’t believe you jumped off a ledge into the quarry! What if you’d hit a rock? But then that’s my sister—never afraid to try anything!
Be careful and take care of yourself. You’re the only sister I have!
With love
Leah
September 8
Dear Leah,
Don’t tell anyone but my head is pounding like the bass woofer at the party last night. I took some aspirin but promptly threw those up along with some other glop you don’t want to hear described. So I guess I just need to tough this one out without meds. I owe you a letter and am hoping writing to you might distract me from the racket going on inside my head. You always were so good at making me feel better. I wish you were here now.
It’s Sunday morning around noon and guess what—I’m not at church. I’m in my bed with the blinds closed. My jerk roommate Bethany (don’t call her Beth!) was up at the crack of dawn clamoring around to get ready for swimming practice. Somewhere in that commotion she raised the blinds. I felt like I was in the middle of a hundred spotlights. Even with the covers pulled over and my head under the pillows it was still glaring. I screamed at her to please put the blinds down and she did but only after grumbling some nonsense about needing to share the room. Now I have another pissed person to make up to. So what else is new?
Yesterday was wild. They had this “brunch” at a frat house before the game—pizza and kegs. I don’t know where they found a pizza parlor open that early or maybe it was left over from Friday night. I didn’t eat any of it but I might’ve had a sip or two of beer. Then we went to the game. The student section is on the sunny side and boy did we bake. It was a blast. I even tried crowd surfing, the only freshman to do it. And we clobbered the other team, some losers from Tennessee or Kentucky or somewhere, but you probably already read that in the paper. Then after the game we went back to Frat Row and hopped from house to house. I’ve never seen so many drunk kids in all my life. Everybody was happy though, with the victory and all, and I only saw a few fights—townies trying to bust in I think. Then it started raining so we headed back to campus where there were more parties. I ended up at one on the seventh floor of West Dorm where a bunch of football players were celebrating. They were showing off on the balcony, picking up chairs and tables and stuff and pretending to throw it over the railing on the people walking below then pulling it in at the last second. Some big guy, I think he said he played linebacker, picked me up and held me out over the edge. He swung me back in after a minute. I just laughed and said “Anytime.” He shook his head and said “You’re crazy” in a slow drawl. Must’ve been from Georgia or Alabama or somewhere, or maybe he was just slurring his words because he was drunk. A little later I found MaryJo, one of my suitemates, at another party and we paired up and did some trolling for drunk guys. That’s when you spot a good fishing hole full of cute guys and get them to follow you around like little puppy dogs with just a look or the way you stand. They think they have a chance but you know they don’t and it’s all just for fun. The main thing is to not let it get out of hand unless
you want it to, and to make sure you never lose track of your partner. MaryJo is good about that. She can hold her booze and won’t let herself get distracted or dragged away. We caught some real hunks and had fun then threw them back in the pond. The last thing either me or MaryJo wants right now is a serious boyfriend. So we kept an eye on each other and eventually headed back to the suite—alone. Some loser followed us and kept knocking at our door and begging to come in. MaryJo talked to him through the door for a little while then finally got tired of the game and told him—I think his name was Brent—to go away or we’d call the police. I think he left after that or maybe he passed out in the common room. There were several guys sleeping on the couches out there when I went to the bathroom. Maybe he was one of them. Needless to say I didn’t look too closely.
So that was yesterday. Talking about it now, it’s a wonder I don’t feel worse than I do. I guess I’m building up a tolerance for partying. But don’t you worry. I’m also going to all my classes and keeping up with my homework and even got an “A” on my first Calc