At 1pm on Wednesday I meet Mia and Freya at the shops. I push down the guilt I feel about Gabby, and I stop myself from looking up the Beat Boys tour dates. It’s time to focus on good things. Grandma drops me off, so I wear my hearing aids in the car with her, but take them out while I’m waiting for the girls to turn up.
I’m a bit nervous; it’s the first time I’ve seen them since camp, and even though we’ve probably texted or messaged every day, my hands feel a bit twitchy. Will they still like me? Will I still fit in?
It’s okay.
When I see them, it’s all good. My hand flies up into a wave, and my face breaks into a smile I don’t think I can control. They smile back, and wave too, and Freya signs, ‘You’re enthusiastic,’ and I put my hand down, a little embarrassed, and laugh.
Mia looks at me and gives me a nod of approval. ‘You look the same,’ she signs.
‘So do you,’ I sign. ‘Mostly.’ I feel brave, like I’m one of them, not worrying about having to be polite, just saying what I think. And anyway, she does look the same: black t-shirt, black jeans and Doc boots.
‘She’s got pink hair,’ signs Freya, and it’s true. Mia has a hot pink streak running across her forehead and down the side of her head.
‘Awesome,’ I sign.
Mia tips her head and shrugs, but there’s a small smile there, and I can tell she’s pleased to have her hair noticed.
‘So what shall we do?’ I sign.
‘We have to wait for Charlotte,’ signs Freya.
‘I didn’t know she was coming,’ I sign. I’m aware of people looking at us as we chat with our hands - the regular people, just doing their shopping or going to the bank. They’re going to go home and tell their families, “I saw a group of kids using sign language in the mall today,” and not stop talking about us for a week. Most people are trying not to stare, doing that thing where they give quick glances, or pretend to be looking past us. I know what it looks like on someone’s face when they try to hide their curiosity. I get a lot of it when I wear my hearing aids. But this is even more intense. Maybe because there are three of us together. I grin to myself. Before, I would have wanted to hide away. Now I feel proud.
‘We should have something to eat,’ signs Freya. ‘And maybe try on some clothes.’
‘The clothes here are terrible,’ signs Mia. ‘Nothing individual at all.’
Freya shrugs. ‘It’s still fun. You can try on something in pastel blue.’ She gives Mia a wicked grin, and Mia smiles back.
‘That’ll never happen.’
Charlotte arrives, dropped off by a woman who must be her mum. She looks like Charlotte, except unhappier. She kisses Charlotte and tries to tell her something, but Charlotte doesn’t look like she wants to be told. She pulls away, waves her mum goodbye and walks over to us. Her face is annoyed.
‘Hey,’ she signs.
‘You’re late,’ signs Mia.
‘My mum wouldn’t hurry up. She always makes me late when I’m seeing you guys.’
I want to ask why, but Mia makes a face, like everyone knows the reason and they sympathise, so I keep my question to myself and think I’ll figure it out later, or ask Charlotte herself.
We shop for a while, although I don’t have any money and Mia signs, loud and proud that there’s nothing she would buy in this whole mall, it’s so conventional and samey and exactly what every other person out there wears, and where’s the uniqueness? I look at my clothes - denim shorts, a striped t-shirt and a pair of white Converse sneakers, and wonder if I’m conventional and samey and exactly the same as every other person out there. Maybe I should change up my style? Be more individual. Get a streak in my hair, maybe. Or a tattoo.
‘I’m getting one,’ Mia tells us, in the change room at the surf shop. Freya’s trying on a swimsuit that’s green with white bindings. She brought in three to try: a purple one and a blue one, which are waiting on hangers. ‘As soon as I’m sixteen. I’m already thinking about what I want.’
‘Wow,’ signs Charlotte. Her face looks really shocked. ‘My mum would never let me have one.’
‘It’s legal,’ signs Mia. She shrugs. ‘She can’t stop you.’
‘What are you going to get done?’ asks Freya. She’s posing in front of the mirror, like she can’t decide whether she likes the swimsuit or not.
Mia makes a face. ‘Hard to know. Maybe a letter D. Or maybe hands making the sign for Deaf.’ She grins. ‘Not flowers or swirls or anything lame like that.’
‘Where would you get it?’ I ask. ‘On your back?’
‘Somewhere where everyone can see it,’ signs Mia. She points to her forearm. ‘Maybe here.’ She points to her neck. ‘Or here.’
My eyes go big. I can’t imagine even thinking about a neck tattoo. ‘You’re so brave.’
She smiles at me. ‘You’re cute, Jazmine. I’m not brave. I’m just sick of people not seeing me. These days I’m just like, “whatever, you’re gonna notice me, bruh. I’m not going away.” Just because I’m Deaf doesn’t mean people get to treat me like I don’t exist.’
My eyes go even bigger, if it’s possible. ‘You should talk to my mum,’ I sign. ‘She doesn’t get it at all.’
‘Are you still only talking Auslan at home?’
Charlotte looks nervous. ‘Really? Are you doing that? What about your mum?’
I nod. ‘She hates it. But I told her I had to. After camp, when I realised what’s been going on. I mean, she’s been pretending I’m not deaf for too many years. But I am deaf. I can’t keep being someone I’m not.’ I take a deep breath. ‘It’s hard though.’
Mia pats me on the shoulder. ‘You’re cool, Jaz.’ She shrugs. ‘Just keep going. People gave me a hard time for years. Now no one does. You get tougher.’
‘Green is good,’ signs Freya. ‘I’m gonna get this one.’
‘It’s really nice,’ signs Charlotte, enthusiastic. She seems anxious to change the subject. ‘It really suits you.’
The discussion turns to shoulder straps, and whether halter necks are better, if you don’t want to lose your swimmers in a heavy surf, and then Freya pays and we’re out of there, and the conversation is forgotten.
But I haven’t forgotten it. And I feel stronger.
We have smoothies from the juice bar later, after we’ve window shopped for clothes and shoes, and been out of the mall, up and down the shops on the main street as well. Mia rejects everything we show her, except for one pair of Doc-lookalike boots, white with flowers on them, and purple laces.
‘I would maybe buy them,’ she signs. ‘But they’re the wrong colour.’
Freya has money to burn: she tries on two pairs of sandals and ends up taking one of them.
‘Are you buying anything?’ I ask Charlotte, but she shrugs in reply.
‘Don’t like shopping?’ I sign.
‘It’s okay,’ she replies, but she doesn’t look convinced. Her face seems worried: she’s not as smiley and cheerful as she was those first two days of camp. Freya seems to have noticed; she keeps sneaking stealthy looks at Charlotte, but she doesn’t say anything. Mia notices too, but when Charlotte just shrugs and half-smiles in response to her ‘what’s the matter?’ she doesn’t bother following it up.
‘Are you alright?’ I ask, finally. ‘You seem a bit sad.’
Charlotte makes a face at me, like, don’t, okay? so I don’t, but the question follows me around all day, even until the end, when I hug them all and say goodbye.
Freya grins and shakes her bags of shopping. ‘We’ll do this again.’
Charlotte makes more of an effort with her smile. ‘See you, Jazmine. I’ll text you, okay?’
Mia even gives me a hug. ‘Stay strong, Jaz,’ she signs. ‘You’re awesome, Deaf girl.’
And even though she calls me what the bullies used to call me at school, I’m happy to take that sign as my own. The way the bullies used it, it gave them all the power. The way Mia uses it, it makes me strong.
When I get into the car with Grandma, I’m buzzing, even though I have to switch back to talking, and trying to listen, rather than watching.
“How was it?”
“So fun, you can’t even believe it.”
When we get back to Grandma’s place, my phone buzzes. It makes me feel guilty, thinking maybe Gabby’s trying to get in touch, and I wonder quickly if she’s having fun watching the band, and if she took someone else. I think about checking on Insta to see if she’s posted pictures of it, but then I don’t want to. Instead, I open the message that’s just come in. It’s from Charlotte.
Hey, Jaz. Just wanted to say sorry for being kind of weird today.
I message her back, even though I can see she’s still typing.
It’s okay. I was just a bit worried about you.
The rest of her message comes in as soon as I press send on mine.
Um, it’s a secret, but my surgery time has been changed. I’m having my second implant done next week. It got brought forward. So that’s why I was a bit upset today.
I wrinkle my forehead. I don’t really get the connection between the surgery and the being upset. Is she scared by hospitals? Or worried that something will go wrong?
I’m sure it’ll be fine, I write. It’ll all go well.
Oh, I’m not worried about that, she replies. The blue dot hops up and down for a few seconds. It’s just, well, you know. Just don’t tell Mia, okay?
Again, I’m confused, but she wants me to make a promise, so I do.
Okay. For sure.
And I wonder: why? Could Mia be jealous of Charlotte’s implants? I mean, Charlotte’s going to be able to hear a lot better with them both in. Stuff’s going to be easier for her at school, and probably at home too. But I don’t see why she would be jealous. Mia likes being Deaf.
So what’s the great big problem?