Carrying the Banner

Chapter 1

"Well he uses sign language, but I don't know very much."

"So you can't really talk?"

"Um, I know some things, but when I don't know it I finger spell."

"That's really cool."

"Yeah, Donna wants me to take ASL so I can understand him better, but I already decided I'm taking Spanish." Albert pulled the gum out of his mouth again, holding it between his teeth and stretching it as far as he could, then slowly wrapped it around his finger.

"Oh." Spot was quiet for a while, then went back to writing.

•••

When lunchtime came around Spot knew right where he was headed. He turned the corner and opened the door to the counselor's office.

"Hello?"

"Ey, uh.. I need to change my schedule."

"Alright, last name?"

"Conlon."

"Okay, have a seat right there, Mr. Schaffer will be right with you."

"Ok thanks."

Spot sat down in the chair and waited. He looked around. There was a small clock right above the door which seemed to be moving slower than Spot thought possible. There were several potted plants that Spot assumed were fake, and the secretary sat at the counter typing away on her computer.

The door to the counselor's office opened and the female counselor from before walked in, followed by Race.

Spots eyes widened and Race glanced at him.

"Anthony here is having some trouble getting along, I was wondering if he could wait in here until he calms down, I have some work to do." She asked the secretary.

"Of course, he can sit right there." She gestured to the open chair beside Spot.

Race didn't quite get it and just stared at the counselor.

"Sit," she enunciated gesturing wildly toward the chair. Race turned his gaze and Spot patted the seat. Race got it and smiled as he sat down. The counselor sighed in relief and went into her office.

Spot sat awkwardly before turning to Race. He didn't know how to talk to him, so he just gave him a sad smile.

Race knew he didn't understand him. He knew that nobody really did. He'd never met anyone who knew ASL very well, so he just went most of his life not understanding. Now he'd met a boy, a boy he liked, and he'd never be able to communicate with him.

Spot tried his hardest to talk to Race, he gestured to himself then to Race, then made some random hand motions. Race didn't know what he was trying to say, and honestly, Spot didn't either.

Spot thought for a second, then his face lit up and he dug in his backpack for something.

He emerged holding a notebook and pen and flipped to a clean page.

You know sign language? Spot scrawled on the page, turning it toward Race.

Yes Race wrote underneath.

I'm changing my schedule.

I punched my teacher.

Spot started laughing and Race did too.

You have a nice laugh.

Race read what Spot wrote, then looked up smiling.

I'd say you too but I wouldn't know.