Joe!” I greeted him with my award-winning Sweetest Smile.
He grabbed a jumbo shrimp in each hand and grinned back.
Then we both waited.
After a moment of silence, I realized I was waiting for Joe to Whisper something as he always did at this juncture, and Joe was waiting for me to move our witty repartee along a safe, amusing path, as I always did. And that’s when I first became aware of it: the silence.
Not literal silence; people were still talking. Whisper silence. No one at the party was Whispering. How was that even possible?
Joe stared at me, clearly getting anxious. But I had no idea what was going through his brain. I scrutinized his face. Bobbing square head with black overgelled hair. Dead blank moss green eyes. Game-show host smile,horsey teeth, thuggish chin. Did he always look that creepy and strange? I couldn’t relate to him at all. What should I say?
“So,” I began brightly, “uh, how are you?”
“How am I?” He blinked like I’d just asked the rudest possible question. My heart sank. What did I do wrong here? He just kept staring, slightly shaking his head.
I broke the pained silence after thirty seconds to chirp, “Well, I’m doing really well, myself! Feelin’ great. Good day. Good day for a birthday.”
“Excuse me,” he interrupted my rambling. “I have to go.” And he turned on his heel.
From the corner of my eye I saw Jill Johnson picking at the veggie plate, frowning intently, as if she were searching for something in particular. I Listened in, half expecting the static to return. Instead, silence. Weird. Gah, what was Jill looking for? It was driving me crazy. Her long, pale face, framed by auburn curls, gave away nothing about what was going on inside her head. When you came right down to it, without Whispers, what did you have to go on to understand people? Memories. The past. Suddenly I remembered all the times she’d Whispered about chocolate cravings in the middle of French class. And luckily, the box from Quint in my backpack still had three truffles in it. “Hey, Jill,” I called out, “want a piece of chocolate?”
“Like junkies want heroin.” Jill sighed and held up a baby carrot. “But I can’t do sugar, I’m trying to lose ten pounds.” With a snap, she chomped the carrot in half andadded with a full mouth, “Way to rub it in my face what I’m missing.”
I cringed. I was just trying to be helpful. “Sorry.”
Stunned, I fled back into the kitchen. Mom was putting candles on fifteen of the pink-frosted cakes. “Joy, what are you doing back here already?” Did her voice sound a little sharp?
“I can’t Hear anything,” I said. “Any Whispers.”
“Sweetie. Tonight is all about you .” Mom adjusted a candle’s position and covered over the first hole with frosting. “May I suggest you take a break from Listening in to other people so much, just this once?”
“But it’s just so dead quiet out there.” I heard the childish fear in my own voice, but I couldn’t stop myself. “What if…what if there’s something wrong with me? With my Hearing? What if it’s changing or…going away?”
An odd look crossed Mom’s face. Impatience? If so, I didn’t blame her. I was sounding like a real worrywart, as bad as Helena on school picture day. “Sweetheart, I really think you’re worrying way too much.” She was bustling around, fiddling with oven settings. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your Hearing, you just need to relax.”
“I guess, but—”
“We put a lot of work into this party, didn’t we, and after I promised you I wouldn’t let Jessica ruin it, I think it’d be a shame to let your fears ruin it. Don’t you think?”
Slowly I nodded. “You’re right.” It was incredible how Icka had gotten to me with her “warning” and now I wasseeing disaster everywhere. Interpreting every coincidence as a sign of doom. Well, I wasn’t going to let her destroy my birthday party from afar by making me paranoid.
He grabbed a jumbo shrimp in each hand and grinned back.
Then we both waited.
After a moment of silence, I realized I was waiting for Joe to Whisper something as he always did at this juncture, and Joe was waiting for me to move our witty repartee along a safe, amusing path, as I always did. And that’s when I first became aware of it: the silence.
Not literal silence; people were still talking. Whisper silence. No one at the party was Whispering. How was that even possible?
Joe stared at me, clearly getting anxious. But I had no idea what was going through his brain. I scrutinized his face. Bobbing square head with black overgelled hair. Dead blank moss green eyes. Game-show host smile,horsey teeth, thuggish chin. Did he always look that creepy and strange? I couldn’t relate to him at all. What should I say?
“So,” I began brightly, “uh, how are you?”
“How am I?” He blinked like I’d just asked the rudest possible question. My heart sank. What did I do wrong here? He just kept staring, slightly shaking his head.
I broke the pained silence after thirty seconds to chirp, “Well, I’m doing really well, myself! Feelin’ great. Good day. Good day for a birthday.”
“Excuse me,” he interrupted my rambling. “I have to go.” And he turned on his heel.
From the corner of my eye I saw Jill Johnson picking at the veggie plate, frowning intently, as if she were searching for something in particular. I Listened in, half expecting the static to return. Instead, silence. Weird. Gah, what was Jill looking for? It was driving me crazy. Her long, pale face, framed by auburn curls, gave away nothing about what was going on inside her head. When you came right down to it, without Whispers, what did you have to go on to understand people? Memories. The past. Suddenly I remembered all the times she’d Whispered about chocolate cravings in the middle of French class. And luckily, the box from Quint in my backpack still had three truffles in it. “Hey, Jill,” I called out, “want a piece of chocolate?”
“Like junkies want heroin.” Jill sighed and held up a baby carrot. “But I can’t do sugar, I’m trying to lose ten pounds.” With a snap, she chomped the carrot in half andadded with a full mouth, “Way to rub it in my face what I’m missing.”
I cringed. I was just trying to be helpful. “Sorry.”
Stunned, I fled back into the kitchen. Mom was putting candles on fifteen of the pink-frosted cakes. “Joy, what are you doing back here already?” Did her voice sound a little sharp?
“I can’t Hear anything,” I said. “Any Whispers.”
“Sweetie. Tonight is all about you .” Mom adjusted a candle’s position and covered over the first hole with frosting. “May I suggest you take a break from Listening in to other people so much, just this once?”
“But it’s just so dead quiet out there.” I heard the childish fear in my own voice, but I couldn’t stop myself. “What if…what if there’s something wrong with me? With my Hearing? What if it’s changing or…going away?”
An odd look crossed Mom’s face. Impatience? If so, I didn’t blame her. I was sounding like a real worrywart, as bad as Helena on school picture day. “Sweetheart, I really think you’re worrying way too much.” She was bustling around, fiddling with oven settings. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with your Hearing, you just need to relax.”
“I guess, but—”
“We put a lot of work into this party, didn’t we, and after I promised you I wouldn’t let Jessica ruin it, I think it’d be a shame to let your fears ruin it. Don’t you think?”
Slowly I nodded. “You’re right.” It was incredible how Icka had gotten to me with her “warning” and now I wasseeing disaster everywhere. Interpreting every coincidence as a sign of doom. Well, I wasn’t going to let her destroy my birthday party from afar by making me paranoid.
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