Your voice was who you are. It was what people normally recognized you for. You used it everyday and it defined you more than anything else, in my opinion. Your voice was your strength. One word could change everything and one word could destroy everything. Your voice had so much power.
And now I'd lost it.
Losing your voice was like losing your identity.
It's been around a month since I lost my ability to speak. By this time, everyone in the neighbourhood — including the Grants — definitely knew that something was very, very wrong with me. I knew Mom wouldn't tell anyone, but they probably had figured it out by themselves. Even if the Thing wasn't the first word that would pop up in their heads, at least sickness or disease would.
By now, I didn't really care. All I kept thinking about was me — how I was losing myself piece by piece. And how I couldn't do anything about it.
"Wanna write a letter?" Oliver suggested. Ever since I started using the Talk Phone, people have been treating me so sympathetically. I hated it. Even the other Grants were being nicer, I could tell. (If you asked Jake for a favour and he actually did it, you knew something was different.)
Oliver was the only person who treated me like I was the same. Like I could still speak, write, walk. Like I was the same Emily.
I nodded.
________
J U L Y 9 , 2 0 1 1
Hi. Oliver is awesome and I worship him with all my life.
Sorry about that.
Anyway, today is officially summer vacation! It's kind of sad that I'm not going to go anywhere. I'm pretty sure you're not going to go anywhere, too, so we can be miserable together?
If everything was normal, we'd be in that camping sight you were obsessed about. A tradition remains a tradition, am I right? We used to stay up until morning, when the fire was long gone and the air got hot again. I didn't think I would've survived the wilderness if it weren't for you.
As you know, using the Talk Phone is becoming second nature to me. A lot of people gave me weird looks, and I don't blame them, actually. I'd do the same if I saw a person in a wheelchair with the Talk Phone in front of them. The glasses looked kind of weird on me at first, but I've gotten used to it. I think.
Don't laugh at me. I know that once you imagine me wearing glasses, you'd burst out laughing.
Okay. See you.
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