Never Said by Carol Lynch Williams Page A

the ASL class
room
back
straight
this deaf teacher
looks me in the eyes
sees my soul
then glances at Sarah
and motions for me to
Go!
Go!
Go!

sarah
    I see the change in her face. Miss Saunders is talking, talking, and I run after Annie. Someone tips too far in a chair and almost falls. People laugh.
    â€œHey, Sarah,” Miss Saunders signs to me, stepping to the door. Watching me.
    My sister. That’s all I sign.
    Miss Saunders nods once.
    Annie’s moving fast. I have to jog to keep up.
    â€œWhat happened? Annie?”
    â€œI’m leaving,” she says. The hall is cleared out. Her backpack hangs from her arm. Slaps at her leg. Weak light falls through the skylights. So weak it can’t even splash on the floor.
    I stop, watch her walk away. Hesitate. And then . . .
    â€œWait,” I say, before she goes through the door to snowflakes that look like they might change their minds and go back heavenward. “I’m coming with you.”
    Back into my classroom. A quick apology to the teacher. Grab my books. And run to Annie, who doesn’t even check out of school.
    These last few days . . .
    They’ve felt like an eternity.
    They’ve gone on forever.
    They have weighed more than the whole school year before as the story has unfolded and I’ve seen more about my sister.
    We’re finding each other. That’s almost as scary as the other stuff. Because what if I fail her somehow? Or fail me?
    â€œI’m coming.” A thought crowds my brain, pushing at me. Is Tommy Jones the reason Annie must protect herself with weight?
    â€œWhere to?” Annie says when I run up to her. She stands on the sidewalk and I’m worried we’re gonna get called back inside, get a call from the truant officer.
    A few flakes of snow fall. Slowing down. Maybe it’s too cold for them too.
    â€œYou decide,” I say. And we’re off to the car, my heart pounding, and Annie’s telling me about Jared and Ben. The apology. The hate.
    â€œOh,” I say, again and again.
    We drive around town until Annie stops shaking. Till she can tell how she felt that day in an empty hallway. How she felt when Jared apologized. How she’s known that Ben is still bent out of shape because her actions messed with his college possibilities.
    â€œBut the notes.” I’m picking at my nails. Have pulled one off too low. “It shows he doesn’t care.”
    â€œRight,” she says.
    We drive on. Pass Dad’s office.
    â€œI hate that place,” my sister says.
    Pass the high school twice, like a dare.
    â€œI hate that place too.”
    Pass the community center where Annie participated in a few pageants when she was younger. This is the venue that asked her to be a guest judge. “That place,” she says, her voice as slow motion as those few snowflakes. “That place I don’t mind.”
    After a bit Annie says, “Sarah. Maybe I’m starting a diet. You know. A diet of healthy eating.”
    â€œWhat?” I sit up straight in my seat. Nurse my finger.
    â€œSure. I think I’ve decided to. Don’t tell Mom. I don’t want her crawling all over me.”
    The car is warm and I think this Tommy Jones thing is over. It’s over. I laugh. Happy to be in on the secret. “Are you serious? Why? I thought you wanted . . .” I pause.
    â€œI know. To be this way.” Annie’s quiet. “It’s time to do the hard things and face what’s happened. And why not?” Annie says. She doesn’t look me in the eye.
    â€œOf course. Why not?”
    And then, “I am so glad, Annie. Glad this is what you want.”
    She changes lanes without signaling. “Let’s get doughnuts as a sendoff. My treat.”
    The road is full of traffic. The whole town looks dirty because of the old snow, the lifeless looking trees, the sky like an upside-down pot of scrubbed steel.
    So this is what Springfield looks like when