Falling (Silently) For The Deaf Boy (On Hold, REWRITE COMING SOON).

Chapter 2 ~ Classes

Why did the world make you so goddamn cute? I thought, looking at Callum. He smiled again. I shook my head. I didn't understand what Callum went through. Life for him must be so hard.

Me: How long have you been deaf? I'm curious.

Callum: My whole life. I don't know what anything sounds like. At all.

That touched my heart. I had only known him for a couple of hours but it was so sad. I gave him a sympathetic look. He shrugged and sighed.

Me: Do you want to know what things sound like? I could tell you :)

Callum's face lit up. He smiled and nodded. He honestly looked like his head was going to fall off.

I drew a little picture of a dog and wrote the word 'woof' next to it. I honestly felt like I was teaching a pre-school child but it was funny the way he stole my pen and personalised the dog, giving it a collar and spots. Apparently he had a Dalmatian named 'Spot'. He could call it and say sit and command it etc, but he doesn't like speaking in front of other people because they made fun of his voice. I would have to hear it sometime. We were busy doodling all over the piece of notebook paper when the bell rang, causing me to jump about five feet in the air. Callum obviously laughed at my reaction. He didn't have to worry about bells and stuff. Though I could tell he wanted the opportunity to be able to be scared at a bell. But his laugh, it was quiet, giggly almost and he snorted slightly. I found it halfway between beautifully cute and amusing.

 "Come on Callum." I said, tugging at his blazer. He couldn't hear me but he seemed to get the picture. Maybe he could lip read. That would be pretty cool. I watched Callum as he trotted off to history as I walked in the opposite direction, to French.

_ _ _

French couldn't be an more boring. Don't get me wrong, I liked French but today the teacher was going on about French history...plus, she was talking in complete français. It was boring and taking notes was worse. I mean, this is French, not history. Could we learn how to speak French before you talk to us in it? History. Callum. Poor boy. He was probably struggling already, but he was intelligent. He must do a lot of studying at home because if he cant hear, then how can he learn? Textbooks. Our school gives us textbooks to keep for the year but of course, I always get the messed up one. It has stupid little drawings of hearts with couples initials like BW + JT. Of course there is the odd doodle and 'U R STUPID' etc. But that is school textbooks for you.

"La révolution française a duré environ dix ans ... Êtes-vous obtenir tout cela par Lucy?" My head snapped up at the mention of my name. I had been doodling puppies in my notebook. Thank goodness it wasn't my schoolbook. A few people snickered. 

"Er, Oui Madame Llionel." I replied, rather hastily, scribbling what Madame had said quickly into my schoolbook.

"Hmm...Quoi qu'il en soit, la Révolution française ... "

I sighed and returned to my notes, scribbling down whatever our teacher said. Just half and hour more and I would be in art, letting my creativity flourish...

_ _ _

I hung around outside my art classroom, eager to get inside. I was the only one who looked up and at it seeing as it was Period 5, the last lesson of the day.

I was busy daydreaming when someone tapped my shoulder, causing me to jump about 5 feet in the air. I heard the quiet, giggly, snorty laughter and knew it was my new friend.

"Don't do that." I whined, even though he couldn't hear me. He remained laughing, getting a few weird looks from people. Luckily, he didn't notice.

The bell rang and I skipped into the class, Callum behind me. He placed his rucksack on the table in the space next to me and he went up to the Miss Adams, handed them a note and came and sat back down.

"Settle down class." Miss Adams called out. "Now today, we are going to express our feelings with life and things we love. We are going to paint straight onto canvas."

I scribbled out what Miss was saying for Callum on my paper. He seemed quite excited.

"Now, everybody, grab a canvas, paint and get going!" Miss finished, smiling brightly. I poked Callum so he would follow me and we went and picked up our canvas'. They weren't big, but they weren't exactly tiny. We shared paint and picked out our paintbrushes and sat down.

Callum could paint pretty damn quick, but with such elegance it was well...unreal. I raised my brush to my canvas but couldn't decide what to paint. What represented my life? I drew a book, painting it with such care. It looked quite good. Around the black and white book, I dabbed on a background, like a park, but in pinks and purples instead of blues and greens. The background was dabbed on so the book stood out. Perfect.

I saw other people had painted their most prized possession to represent their life, iPhones, handbags, footballs. All sorts. But Callum. He had basically made a mess on a canvas. It was lines and squiggles and looked like an infant had grabbed a paint brush and dolloped lots of black paint on the end and had just scribbled all over the canvas...but it wasn't a bunch of squiggles. If you looked closely, you could see a teenage boy made up entirely of squiggles and lines, hunched over, curled up in a ball. The squiggles around the edge of the canvas must represent sound because it missed the boy in the middle. The boy in the middle was Callum. Deaf, not hearing anything...it was an amazing piece of artwork, so detailed, so full of passion...but it was so sad.

The hour gradually passed and the bell rang. I didn't jump, I was used to it. We piled our canvases at the back of the class and walked up to the font gate.

I waved at Callum and he smiled. He then walked towards what looked like his mum who took his arm so he would be safe crossing the roads. A few people laughed but Callum ignored them. He was going to have to get used to people snickering and making fun...

~~~

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