SPEAK (part 1)

Been writing it in creative writing class. Kinda cheesy, but what ever :P


Some would say it was destiny that brought us together. That we were practically made for each other. Others might argue that it was merely pure chance that we met. What did I think? What did she think? We aren't really sure, but we feel it's almost a mix of the two.

You see, we're not your normal teenagers. We're what you might label as" different" . But it's the things that make us different from everyone else, perfect for each other.

I have the ability to feel emotions that radiate off of people. I can sense when they're mad, sad, or glad. And, as I'm finding out, if I make contact with someone's skin, I can read their minds. And, when I say that I can read your mind and feel your emotions I'm not talking about looking into your eyes and staring deep into your soul type mumbo jumbo. I mean, standing in a crowded room with hundreds of people; feeling all their emotions smack me in the head all at once. And, when I make physical contact with someone, oh man. Any thought passing through their brain at that moment goes right into mine, sounding as though they were talking right to me.

But that's almost too much information. I suppose I should tell you a little bit more about me and my town. I'm your average male teenager-- well, except for the whole read your mind/emotions thing. I go to Briggs High School, have pretty good grades, hang out with friends at the movies, go to parties, you know, normal teen stuff. My name? Miles. Miles Halter. I'm 17, six foot two, and as gangly as you can get. I have honey blonde hair that waves in some places and curls in others, and my eyes are a stormy grey color; my skin pale with maybe the slightest hint of sun.

Her? Well she's Clemence. A girl with an hourglass figure, with long, curly, dark brown hair that tumbles over her shoulders to about the middle of her back. Her skin is an olive tone, her eyes a chocolaty brown that melts your heart. What's so special about Clemence, you ask? Well, she can't talk. She can hear, see, smell, taste, and feel just as much as the next guy, but, because she had a terrible accident when she was younger, she can't speak. What better friend for her than the guy who not only knows sign language but the one who can read her mind?

So that's us. Normal, but not. How did we meet? Why am I telling you all this? Because it goes with the story that follows this. Our story. A story of her, Clemence, being able to SPEAK...


It was the end of winter break and the start of a new semester. Our grades were set back to the beginning, our minds emptied of all we had learned the previous months. With our new gadgets and clothes obtained over Christmas some of us would return looking different, while others returned the same. Me? I was one of those who returned the same, and one of those who came back dreading every moment of it.

The Drama of high school, with its rollercoaster of emotions, is gut wrenching and mind shattering. With a population of almost two thousand kids you can imagine what I have to go through. I remember when this weird power of mine started showing up back in middle school that I'd stay home sick a lot. But, over the years, I had learned that music can block some of it out.

So, arriving early like I always do, and slapped on my headphones. I was still sitting in my clunker of a car, not in any hurry to go inside. But, I knew I had to, and sooner than later, so I took a deep breath and got out of the car. Walking into the building, my iPod not yet turned on, I felt the usual emotions of the teachers. Theirs were less abrasive and more depressing. Some enjoyed their job, yes, but when a janitor would pass by me I could feel the weight of his crushed hopes and dreams on me. He never wanted to be a janitor, that's just how things had ended up for him. Poor guy. The one happy thought that walked through these halls of unsuccessfulness and gloom was coming from the hall monitor, Jeff. The little punk just loved pushing, and ordering us around, always on his high horse. One day I hoped he'd be yanked of that pretty pony.

I adjusted my pack and continued through the halls towards my class room. When I arrived I plopped my backpack on the ground, slid down the wall, and sat next to it. Making sure my headphones where covering my ears I pulled out my iPod and turned in on, full blast of course. I closed my eyes and let the music carry me away into a state of dreaming. Then the bell would ring, I'd leave and go to class, but for now, in this hour before then, it was just me, sitting on the cold linoleum floor.

The loud ringing bell that signaled the start of first period brought me back into reality. gathering my things I walked into history class. Same old, same old. Or so I thought...

As I sat in my seat, waiting for our old, decrepit teacher to get his act together and quiet down my class I noticed a new face walk into the class room. At first I thought she was lost, but then maybe she was just asking the teacher a question about some other homework assignment. But then I say the crumpled yellow slip of paper in her hand and knew instantly what she was: a new student. Her small face looked forlorn and frightened and, judging by the emotional signal she was sending, nervous about whatever was about to happen.

As Mr. Campbell turned his attention to her she quickly handed him the paper. He signed it and handed it back, taking in a breath, readying himself to say something but then she handed him another piece of paper, one that had been clutched in her other hand. As he read it his expression went from surprised to one of sympathy. He mouth move, obviously talking to her, but with the noise that the rest of the class was making, it was impossible to hear him. Just when I thought that I would never find out what had been written on that tiny slip of paper, Mr. Campbell called the class to order.

"Settle down, settle down," His raspy voice croaked. "Class, this is Clemence," he gestured towards the tiny girl standing next to him. "She's new to Briggs so please be kind and welcome her. And, please understand that she can't respond to you. She's a mute."

Andrew Grossman, a guy with worse timing than anyone on earth, laughed as Mr. Campbell said that and said, "What a loser. Why the hell can't she talk? trying to be some loser mime?" And he wasn't the brightest crayon in the box either.

Clemence looked at the floor, her face turning a deep shade of crimson. "God, Andrew. Can you have some respect please? Clemence has torn vocal chords making it impossible for her to speak, you bumbling idiot!" I spat, not knowing what came over me. "Now shove that bulbous thing on your face you call a nose into your text book that's never been opened before. Maybe you'll learn something about the history of respect." As I hiss that last word I noticed I was standing up, my fists on the table. I promptly sat back down, crossing my arms and looking at the wall to my left.

"Yes..." Mr. Campbell said, a bit uncomfortable with the current situation. "Well Miles, since you're the only one in the class who's fluent in American sign language and have the only available seat next to you, Miss Arnett will be your History partner. Please be kinder to her than you were to Mr. Grossman, no matter how accurate your words may have been. "

"Hey!" Andrew shouted defensively.

I sat forward and tried to put myself in a more relaxed pose, hoping to relieve some of the tension that was building in the room. Oh how it hurt my brain. I felt like all the tension was in there not dispersed throughout the class.

As Clemence sat down next to me, she was very hesitant. I had frightened her and felt sorry. I quickly apologized, saying, "Hey, didn't mean to freak you out. I'm not sure what came over me. It's just..." I looked at my hands lying on the desk, "Andy was being a total douche. Sorry."

"It's no big deal," she signed back smiling. We nodded to each other and looked forward at the front of the class room. As the bell rang to free us from a boring lesson on the Opium wars in china, we packed up our bags. During that though, Clemence and I's bare elbows briefly touched and that's when I heard it

...Wonder what he'd do if the... Rang through my head.
I looked over at Clemence then, forgetting all about my backpack. "Excuse me?" I said. "What do you wonder I'll do?"

She looked at me shocked. The I realized, we had made contact. I had just read her thoughts and heard her speak. WHEN SHE HADN'T SAID ANYTHING.

"How?" she asked, her hands shaking as she did so.

"What?" I said, trying to think of a way to change the subject. "Oh, look at the time. I've gotta go. See ya Clemence!" And on that note I got up and quickly exited the room. What had I done?


For the rest of that week Clemence kept her distance. I suppose I had really spooked her. I mean, I would be too if someone had just read my thoughts. So, I decided to let her do so. I thought that maybe, over the weekend, she might forget about it all. Then maybe when she returned I could just be a normal guy.

On Monday, when the blessed weekend was over, I tried talking to her again. As she tentatively sat down next to me in history I signed to her "Hello!" and smiled.

She smiled back weakly and didn't look back at me as she pulled the out her history notebook...and all of her texts books. She made a wall between us with them. Brief eye contact and then back to scribbling notes on imperialism. That hurt.

"Hey," I said. "Are these," I pointed at the wall of texts between us, "really necessary? "

She ignored me, and even scooted to the farthest edge of the table. Now that was just plain rude. "Look, this is so not cool and I didn't even," I grabbed her wrist, "do...any...thing..."

...can't he understand that I just want to be left alone. It's the way it's supposed to be. Mute girl sits by herself and just gets through school. What's wrong with this guy?... Her thoughts said in my head.

"Why can't I talk to you? Why do you have to be the mute girl that sits alone? I understand sign language perfectly and I don't have a problem doing talking to you." I replied, my ego worse for wear. I felt sorry for her. And then I realized what I had just done.

Again, she stared at me incredulously. I made sure that I stared at my textbook intently. I could tell that she was surprised but confused and angry at the same time. She was probably wondering what gave me the right to her mind. Nothing did, really. I was just specially cursed with this ability.

"How the hell do you do that?!" She signed.

"Do what?" I signed back.

"Know what I'm thinking? are you some kind of...some kind of psychic?" She wanted answers but they were answers I couldn't give. So, naturally, I lied through my teeth.

"No. Your just imagining things. go back to your notes behind your wall of solitude and sit alone. it's what you want right?" I turned back to my own notes, fuming and feeling guilty. But I wasn't the only one with the guilty feeling. Clem was feeling sorry too.

We kept the quiet tension between us for the rest of class. We tried to act like the other wasn't there but it was too hard for me not to notice her. She smelled like lavender and that was probably my most favorite smell, but that's not why I couldn't ignore her. It's because I could feel her building up the courage to break the silence.

The bell rang and all that courage was shattered. I sighed heavily, wishing she had spoken, and packed up my backpack. As I sat up straight, getting ready to stand up and leave she put a hand on my shoulder, her finger touching my neck.

I'm not sure if you can hear this but I'm sorry. It's just so..strange. I hate this school so much and it smells horrific and-- she thought.

"Hey! The school doesn't smell that bad. I mean, sure, there's a musty wet dog smell that floats through the halls and maybe some classrooms smell like mold but...it's nothing...serious."I trailed off. She looked at me surprised and had a feeling of triumphantness.

As I tore my eyes away from her I noticed the rest of the class was staring at me. Apparently they hadn't heard her thoughts and they never saw hers or my hand move. If only I had a Twix at that moment. instead I had to come up with something else. So, panicking, I blurted out "What? can't a guy talk to himself once in a while?"

As if I asked him to respond Andrew Grossman shot back "Yeah, if that guy's insane." The classes joined in his laughter. "God Miles, you're such a nerd." And then he was gone, off to sleep in, and fail some other class.

"And one day us nerds will be the boss of you," I grumbled. "That is, if you can actually have enough brains to get a job, you dolt."

There was a breezy sound that came from my left, and when I looked to find the source I saw Clemence.

I raised an eyebrow. She just blushed and glided away, out of the room.

I got up and followed suit, walking towards anatomy, a grin spread wide across my face. So, Miss Clemence could laugh, huh? It wasn't like a loud, hearty laugh that came straight from your gut. It was a light, airy laugh, that sounded as though she was breathless. I carried that thought with me through the rest of the school day as I toughed through the thoughts of these pitiful teens.


As I was pulling out of the lot I saw her again. Her dark hair curled over her face, but I knew it was her. I could also feel that something was wrong. She looked sad and lonely sitting on that old wooden bench. So, my curiosity getting the better of me, I back into a parking spot, hopped out of the car, and trotted over to her.

Carefully sitting down next to her on the rickety bench I inhaled, readying myself to say something so cool, so well composed, and so thoughtful that she would just have to tell me what's was wrong.

"'Ssup?" And that sure as hell wasn't it, but, sadly, that's the lame ass garbage that came out of my mouth.

Clemence laughed another one of her airy laughs and signed back "Hey."

I knew there was something way better I could say than "'Ssup" this time. So, trying to save myself I asked, "Why the long face? Car break down only to now find out that 15 minutes could have saved you 15% or more on your car insurance by switching to Geico? " Not exactly smooth operator kind of talk, but I felt that being goofy might have been better. Another breezy laugh passed through her lips.

"No," She signed, "that's not the problem. I don't have my own car so I don't have to worry about car insurance. The current problem is that I missed the bus and my mother can't pick me up until five which means I have to sit here for two and a half more hours until she arrives." She looked at the cars longingly, wishing she could be in one of them.

"I could give you a ride," I replied.

She shrugged, meaning why not, and stood up, slinging her backpack over her shoulder. I lead her over to my car and, being the gentleman that I am, I sat right in my seat and attempted to turn the heap of junk back on. After my fifth try I got it going.

As we pulled out I reached over her and grabbed a notepad and pen from the glove compartment. "Write down directions, please," I asked, turning left onto the freeway. She did so and handed it back to me.

After too much silence I pointed to the radio and said, "Turn it to whatever station you like."

She flicked the knob a few times before finally deciding on a station I had never heard of before. I raised an eyebrow in question and she signed, "My Brother's radio show."

Oh. So she had a brother, huh? I wonder if he went to the same school or was in college, but i never got the chance to ask because at that moment we were at her house. We sat there for a second, finishing the song that was playing. When it ended I turned off the radio and looked at her.

She clasped her tiny hands on either side of my face and thought, Thank you so much for the ride. She smiled at me then hopped out of the car, her hair swishing from side to side as she walked up the steps to her front door, she waved good-bye then walked inside.

"Good-bye," I whispered to myself, then drove home.

~*~

So that's what I've got so far. Yeah...

Questions? Comments? Ask! I'd love to answer them :)