You Stole My Voice

My foot bounced up and down violently on the steel bleachers. My hand shook as it leaned over my leg, my eyes barely even looking down at the screen of my shaking cellphone.  

I was too distracted by the curly brown haired boy who stood at the bottom of the bleachers.  His head was turned upwards towards me, it had been for a while now.

 I huffed out a frustrated breath. There were so many other interesting things to stare at in this darn school; the sweaty teenagers in front of us that were practicing slamming into each other as they fought over a football for example. But no. He had to be staring straight up at me, the only one on the bleachers.  

He wanted to talk to me, I knew it.  

I wasn’t in the mood. 

My foot stopped bouncing and I pulled my long hair away from my ear as I held my phone up to it.  I pretended I was in an intense conversation with someone.  It was a dumb bluff. Especially under my circumstances. The whole school knew what I was and what happened to me. 

That I was mute. 

That’s right. Mute. I couldn’t talk to the kid even if I wanted to. 

It wasn’t always like this. In fact, I lost my voice only three months ago.  Though it feels like years have passed.  I was in the theater room with my friends at the time.  I can’t remember what we were talking about, but I remember laughing really hard. Then I remember my friends laughing at ME.  They thought I was pretending to be a mime to make them laugh.  The situation was weird, but I chalked it up to them pulling a prank on me.  It was a silly moment, but it got serious when I stood in front of my English class to give an Oral report. The teacher was not enthused by my “miming”.  

You might be wondering, how did I not notice my lack of voice? 

Well that’s the terribly strange thing about my muteness.  I can hear my voice. No one else can. 

My parents were more understanding than my teachers and principal.  When I arrived home we immediately took a trip to the hospital.  The doctors chalked it up to stress and gave me anxiety medication.  

I don’t have anxiety.  Or at least. I didn’t before.  

High school used to be fun.  I had everything that you would want in a school experience. I had fun friends. Good grades that teachers would beam over. Even the high school heartthrob was leaning to asking me to prom, or so I had heard.  

Now my high school days are mostly me hiding from any possible human interaction.  My lunches and free periods mostly consist of me sitting on these cold bleachers, hunched over a book I’m barely interested in. My friends avoid me now. I don’t really know why. Everyone else just gives me the concerned side eye.  Which is the most humiliating thing I’ve experienced so far in my life. There is a rumor going around that I’m even faking my muteness to get attention.  What’s worse is the local newspaper heard about me and even wrote a story on my situation, pointing to the American Education system as the culprit of my stress.

And now a dorky freshman is standing at the bottom of the bleachers and staring at me. It’s been almost ten minutes now hasn’t it? What the heck is his deal? 

I set down my phone as I gave up the dumb charade and picked up the library book I had checked out. I opened it and flipped to the bookmarked page, but my eyes wandered back down at the boy.  My high school was big, my Junior class reaching almost seven-hundred students, but despite this I still recognized the freshman. It’s hard to forget the weird kid.  Not only that but he sticks out like a sore thumb with his incredibly short height and messy hair.  Unfortunately for him, his freckled face and screams “Punch Me”. 

Just like most bullied kids, he had a nickname. “Mighty Mires” is what they called him. Mires was his last name, I never caught his first, and of course the mighty part… well that was probably because he looked the very opposite of the word.  I had seen him pushed around every once in a while. He was often the butt of every joke… But… 

What the heck did he want with me? 

Finally I had enough.  I slammed my book down on the bleacher hard and yelled, “What the heck do you want, kid?!”  

It was pointless to yell, he couldn’t hear me anyways, but I hoped my viciousness would scare him a little. I mean, the kid’s usual persona looked as if he would crumble into a pile of horror just at the sound of thunder.  

To my dismay my outburst didn’t scare him. In fact he did the opposite thing I wanted and started to make his way towards me.  “No, no, no, no.” I grumbled as I stood and grabbed my library book off the bench. I pushed it into my bag and pulled the strap over my shoulder.  He wasn’t stopping as I clearly was trying to make a break for it.  

“Not today, Freshman.” I said angrily, pulling my hair back into a ponytail and taking a step down to the next bleacher.  

Mires stopped three steps below me, looking up into my eyes.  He had that usual mousy look of fear written all over his face, his eyes wide and eyebrows cocked upward. He opened his mouth, “Lauren.” He said.  

I should have known he would know my name, but when he said it I was sort of taken off guard.  I gave him one of my best glares and took another step down, distancing myself from him.  I had no patience for this today. I just wanted to be alone. 

“Wait, Lauren!” He called, his voice sounding… Sad? Concerned?

What did I care? The last thing I needed was to be seen with the outcast of the school. Then I really would be how I felt. One of the weird ones. 

I shifted my heavy bag over my shoulder as I stepped down again. “Leave me alone.” I said, though it was pointless. My back was to him. He wouldn’t have heard me.  

“I just need to talk to you for a minute!” He said quickly.  

I paused, then turned my head and gave him another frustrated look.  Quickly I pulled my phone out of my jacket pocket and tapped furiously at the screen.  I tossed my bag down and took menacing steps back up towards him. He shrunk back as I whipped my phone up to his face.  He blinked hard, then looked at the screen. 

“I’M MUTE, IDIOT.” It read. 

He looked away from the screen back over at me. He didn’t seem surprised, so he must have known.  “I still need to talk to you.” He said. 

I rolled my eyes and pulled my phone back to me, typing again. This time he didn’t shrink back when I shoved it into his face once more.  “No.” It read.

I turned and made my way back to my bag.  

“But I need to tell you something important!” He called after me.  

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” I grumbled, “Is it about the time aliens abducted you? And they did a bunch of experiments on you and that’s the reason why your growth is stunted and why you can’t grow arm hair?” 

The benefit of no one hearing you is you gain a wicked sense of humor. Or a terrible one. You’ll be the judge.

“I have arm hair.” His voice said quietly behind me. 

My heart skipped a beat.  Did he… Just hear me?

My head whipped around, my pony tail flying back into my face. I brushed it away and glared up at him. “You just heard me?!” I yelled. 

He looked more nervous than ever.  He took in a shuddering breath, then stepped down closer to me.  “Please don’t be mad.” He said quietly, looking around to make sure no one was closeby.  I took a step closer to him, excitement and anxiety floating around in my chest. 

He looked back at me, his face grimaced.

 “I think I accidentally took your voice.”