I was born deaf. It's a silence so complete, it feels like time itself has stopped. My family thought I was just a quiet, well-behaved baby. It took them years to realize I wasn't responding because I couldn't hear. Everyone told my mother to give up. "Send her to a state home. It'll be easier. You can have another." My own father gave her an ultimatum: "It's me or the 'broken' kid." Mom didn't even cry. She just packed our bags and we left. She worked two jobs, taking me with her, and spent her nights teaching herself sign language so she could teach me. I remember her, exhausted, her hand on my throat, mouthing words over and over, trying to teach me how to feel the shape of sound. When I was six, she had finally saved enough for my first hearing aids. That was the first time I heard the rain. It was also when I discovered my "gift." When I wear my aids, I hear the world. When I take them out, the world goes silent... but I can hear thoughts. From that day on, I almost never took the aids out. Knowing what people really think—it's not a gift. It's a curse. 2 There were times, when she was so tired she could barely stand, that my mom thought about leaving. She thought about walking out the door and never coming back. I knew. I’d just tug on her shirt and sign, You won't leave? She'd burst into tears and hug me, and I'd listen to her thoughts. I love you. I will never leave you. School was hard. Teachers were kind, but kids were cruel. "Deaf-mute." "Freak." I never, ever took my hearing aids out at school. I was terrified of what I'd hear. I hated the world's noise, but I hated its silence even more. So I just... disappeared. I was the quiet girl in the back row. Excellent grades, zero friends. I got my mom's looks. Not "bombshell," but "pretty." Boys would sometimes leave notes in my locker. When I'd politely decline, they'd get mean. "What, you think you're too good for me? You're a deafie. I was just being nice." You learn to ignore it. Their words were never as ugly as their thoughts. Mom opened a small diner, The Dumpling Nook. I'd help out on weekends, clearing tables and running the register. Mom wanted me to stay home and study, but I wanted to help. One day, a group of kids from my class came in. Mom was so happy she comped their meal. The next day, the rumors started. How I was "trailer trash." The jocks would "borrow" my homework. It always came back stained or torn. My teachers would ask if everything was okay. I’d just nod. I didn't want to make things harder for my mom. It got worse. Then, I was "asked out" by Ethan Crowe. The school "god." I was stunned. I had nothing he could possibly want. I said no. I expected him to be cruel. Instead, he just smiled, a flash of perfect white teeth, and ruffled my hair. "That's okay, Ava. I'll wait. You'll come around." He walked away, his white shirt bright in the sun. That image stuck with me. Of course, the entire school lost its mind. I got a new nickname: "The Girl Who Shot Down Ethan." I started noticing him. He wasn't just popular; he was brilliant. On the academic rankings, he was always right behind me. Number two. He was the debate team captain, the class president, the star quarterback. He was everything. Our school put up a "Wall of Scholars" for national competition winners. My photo went up for winning the National Essay Contest. Right next to it was a photo of Ethan, holding a debate trophy, his smile so bright it hurt. The next day, there was a letter in my locker. His name was on the envelope. I waited until I was home to read it. Ava, I read your essay. It was incredible. I feel like you're the only other person here who's actually thinking. My asking you out was... clumsy. I apologize. Can we just be friends? If yes, just leave this note in your desk. I'll find it. —Ethan I shouldn't have. I should have thrown it away. But... I was lonely. I wrote back: Friends. Let's both ace the midterms. I tucked my reply into my copy of The Bell Jar and left it in my desk. The next morning, the book was gone. In its place was a tiny stuffed bear. Our "friendship" became a secret. We'd pass in the halls, and he'd give me a small, private smile. That was it. I was grateful. A month later, he texted. I'm drowning in calculus. Meet me at the library on Saturday? Please? It was off-campus. It felt... safe. I said yes. I was nervous. I spent an hour picking out an outfit. He was already there. He was so easy to talk to. I recommended a few prep books I was using. He bought them, and then he bought me a coffee, and we just... talked. Until the sun started to set. I got home that night, and my skin started to itch. By morning, I was covered in hives. I'm deathly allergic to mango. I retraced every step. The only thing I hadn't prepared myself was the coffee... the one he'd bought me. I missed the state math competition. Ethan showed up at the hospital a few days later with flowers. "Ava! I heard you were sick! Are you okay?" His smile was so warm, so concerned. I pulled out my right hearing aid. The world went silent. 【God, this is boring. I wish she’d stay in here longer.】 I fumbled with the aid, pretending to adjust it. 【She had to have told me she was allergic to mango. I remember it. Thank God it worked.】 ...It worked? 【She’s so annoying. This 'little deaf girl' act is so old. If she'd just fall for me, I wouldn't have to pull this crap.】 I put the aid back in. My hands were shaking. "The doctor said..." His voice was smooth as silk. "I... I think I must have eaten something with mango in it. At the diner. I'm so stupid. I ruined everything. I'm so sorry I missed the competition." He looked genuinely devastated. 【She’s buying it. Perfect. Now I just need to keep her out of the running for the AP Scholar prize.】 I handed him the bottle of water from my nightstand. I made sure he saw the red, swollen rash on my hand. He flinched, just for a second. "It's okay," I said, my voice soft. "It was an accident. I should have been more careful. I feel like I let you down. You were cheering for me." He relaxed, taking the water. "Next time, Ava. We'll be 1 and 2." I smiled. Oh, Ethan. You're not even in my league. "Actually," I said, "I was organizing my study notes before... this. I can give you a copy when I get out. To thank you for the flowers." His eyes lit up. 【Her notes? It's over. I've won.】 When an enemy reveals his weakness, the game is yours to control. I gave him my notes. All of them. And they were all correct. It's just... I gave him the long, convoluted, time-wasting formulas. The ones that take ten minutes when a simpler one takes two. The test is about speed, after all. I'm not a "good" girl. I'm a survivor. He touched my future. He was lucky I was only going for his GPA. Ethan, ecstatic, told me he'd placed second in the math competition. (A new kid, Liam, had taken first.) He was convinced my notes would help him "clinch the top spot" next time. I just smiled. "I know you can do it." 3 Someone posted a photo of us at the library. The rumors went nuclear. My teachers pulled me aside. I promised them Ethan and I were "just study partners." They let it go. My grades were my shield. But the whispers... I took out my aids for just a second. 【Look at her. Total user. Playing the deaf card to get the top jock to pity her.】 【I heard she's faking the deaf thing. She's just a manipulative bitch.】 I put the aid back in, my head pounding. That afternoon, I was cornered in the bathroom. It was Maya, the "queen bee" of the school. She took a long drag from her vape and blew the smoke in my face. I coughed, my eyes watering. "Heads up, scholarship," she said, flicking an ash. "Ethan Crowe? He's not 'nice.' He's a snake. Don't be an idiot." She just... left. Ethan, meanwhile, doubled down. He started sitting with me at lunch. In front of everyone. "She's such a slut. Leading him on." "She's probably just after his money." I tried to ignore it, my hands shaking so hard I couldn't hold my fork. I took a deep breath. I picked up my unopened orange juice and slid it across the table to him. "Ethan," I said, loud enough for the tables nearby to hear, "I can't get this open. Can you help me?" It was the first time I'd ever publicly acknowledged him. He was stunned. Then he smiled, popping the seal and handing it back. You're the one who started this, I thought. Why should I be the only one to pay for it?
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