into me.” Had she ever gone through this?
Or had Aunt Jane, when she lost her Hearing? As soon as my mind went there, my heart started booming like I was running wind sprints in P.E. It felt like something truly terrible was happening. I thought of the kiss, my selfishness and disloyalty…maybe I deserved something terrible. “Mom…I did a really bad thing,” I whimpered, feeling assick and weak as when I had had mono the year before.
But Mom shook her head. “No…tie…rary,” she assured me. “…ain…ear…”
Oh, god, I don’t understand anything you’re saying! I heard my words only in my mind.
Sympathy crinkled the corners of Mom’s eyes. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. “…own…urry,” she said. “Doe…urry…”
Don’t worry. I told my heart to stop pounding. I clung to her words like they were a life raft. I could see Mom’s lips form the word “migraine.” I wasn’t dying, it just felt like it. Though my head still throbbed, the static was becoming more intermittent, fading away. But my pulse just wouldn’t slow down, like my body was still warning me of danger. I choked down two red-and-blue gelcaps, dry.
Mom patted my shoulder. “A little better now?”
I heard her clearly that time.
“Migraine headache,” Mom said grimly. “I’m concerned your stress is getting worse. We need to sign you up for a teen yoga class to help you rela—”
“Was it just another stress headache?” It seemed so much worse. “Headaches can fill your ears with static?”
“Absolutely, they can affect all your senses.” Mom stroked my hair. “It seems like the worst of it’s passed.”
I nodded numbly. Mom must be right. A small part of me understood that I just didn’t have the strength to keep thinking about it, not tonight. I didn’t have room in my panicky, lustful, guilt-ridden, aching head.
I stepped back into the crowded living room, where I filled a glass with pink lemonade, just to have something to do. The static and the pain were gone now, but my head felt sore, tender. I couldn’t help wondering—had static-filled headaches ever happened to Icka? I almost wished she were here right now so I could ask her…but no, wait, I wasn’t talking to her. With good reason. The memory of our fight made my chest feel like it was on fire. Now that I thought about it, if it hadn’t been for Icka’s stupid “warning” bracing me for the worst, maybe a little static wouldn’t have freaked me out of my skull.
Across the room, I spotted Parker and Ben standing next to each other in a cluster of her Youth Service Committee pals. Parker was switched on. Her face glowed as she babbled on about her plans to revive the Lincoln High recycling club. Ben nodded along, but his drifting eyes made it clear to me he wasn’t quite as into glass and aluminum as she was. The new selfish part of me was pleased to see Ben looked bored by Parker’s save-the-world-through-transcript-padding ambitions, though I’d personally always admired her for being so motivated. Every so often Parker would touch Ben’s arm, just for a second. Each time she did it, I felt the same dull ping, like someone was flicking rubber bands at my chest, right below my throat.
Even though the smell of food was starting to make me nauseous, I edged over to the food table…just so I wouldn’t have to watch the Ben and Parker Show anymore.
Joe Rabinowitz turned to slide his bulky frame toward me. “Heeeey, birthday girl!” Somehow Joe’s voice always came out sounding both squeaky and sleazy, but he wasn’t a bad guy at heart. He was passionate and smart, one of those computer geniuses who would one day become cool, in college or maybe grad school, or let’s face it, at age thirty-five. Right now, though, he needed help to carry on a conversation. It was like he expected the whole world to read his mind and draw him out of his shell…which meant he and I got along fabulously.
“Hi,
Or had Aunt Jane, when she lost her Hearing? As soon as my mind went there, my heart started booming like I was running wind sprints in P.E. It felt like something truly terrible was happening. I thought of the kiss, my selfishness and disloyalty…maybe I deserved something terrible. “Mom…I did a really bad thing,” I whimpered, feeling assick and weak as when I had had mono the year before.
But Mom shook her head. “No…tie…rary,” she assured me. “…ain…ear…”
Oh, god, I don’t understand anything you’re saying! I heard my words only in my mind.
Sympathy crinkled the corners of Mom’s eyes. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of Tylenol. “…own…urry,” she said. “Doe…urry…”
Don’t worry. I told my heart to stop pounding. I clung to her words like they were a life raft. I could see Mom’s lips form the word “migraine.” I wasn’t dying, it just felt like it. Though my head still throbbed, the static was becoming more intermittent, fading away. But my pulse just wouldn’t slow down, like my body was still warning me of danger. I choked down two red-and-blue gelcaps, dry.
Mom patted my shoulder. “A little better now?”
I heard her clearly that time.
“Migraine headache,” Mom said grimly. “I’m concerned your stress is getting worse. We need to sign you up for a teen yoga class to help you rela—”
“Was it just another stress headache?” It seemed so much worse. “Headaches can fill your ears with static?”
“Absolutely, they can affect all your senses.” Mom stroked my hair. “It seems like the worst of it’s passed.”
I nodded numbly. Mom must be right. A small part of me understood that I just didn’t have the strength to keep thinking about it, not tonight. I didn’t have room in my panicky, lustful, guilt-ridden, aching head.
I stepped back into the crowded living room, where I filled a glass with pink lemonade, just to have something to do. The static and the pain were gone now, but my head felt sore, tender. I couldn’t help wondering—had static-filled headaches ever happened to Icka? I almost wished she were here right now so I could ask her…but no, wait, I wasn’t talking to her. With good reason. The memory of our fight made my chest feel like it was on fire. Now that I thought about it, if it hadn’t been for Icka’s stupid “warning” bracing me for the worst, maybe a little static wouldn’t have freaked me out of my skull.
Across the room, I spotted Parker and Ben standing next to each other in a cluster of her Youth Service Committee pals. Parker was switched on. Her face glowed as she babbled on about her plans to revive the Lincoln High recycling club. Ben nodded along, but his drifting eyes made it clear to me he wasn’t quite as into glass and aluminum as she was. The new selfish part of me was pleased to see Ben looked bored by Parker’s save-the-world-through-transcript-padding ambitions, though I’d personally always admired her for being so motivated. Every so often Parker would touch Ben’s arm, just for a second. Each time she did it, I felt the same dull ping, like someone was flicking rubber bands at my chest, right below my throat.
Even though the smell of food was starting to make me nauseous, I edged over to the food table…just so I wouldn’t have to watch the Ben and Parker Show anymore.
Joe Rabinowitz turned to slide his bulky frame toward me. “Heeeey, birthday girl!” Somehow Joe’s voice always came out sounding both squeaky and sleazy, but he wasn’t a bad guy at heart. He was passionate and smart, one of those computer geniuses who would one day become cool, in college or maybe grad school, or let’s face it, at age thirty-five. Right now, though, he needed help to carry on a conversation. It was like he expected the whole world to read his mind and draw him out of his shell…which meant he and I got along fabulously.
“Hi,
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