Page 11 of Signs and Signals

The crowd chuckles again, and Cameron’s confidence grows. “But seriously, this scholarship would mean the world to me. It’s not just about the money; it’s about the chance to prove that where you come from doesn’t define where you can go. It’s about showing my little brothers and sisters that they can dream big, too. So, thank you for believing in kids like me. We won’t let you down.”

The room falls silent, the weight of Cameron’s words sinking in. There’s a collective sense of admiration and hope, a reminder of why everyone is there tonight.

“I have always felt like I didn’t fit in anywhere at school. I was too smart for the smart kids and too smart for the average kids. I have never been athletic, but academics have always come easy for me. The friends I did have are either in jail, dead, or in gangs. This is what happens to kids who get bored in school. They have to find something else that stimulates their mind. If school isn’t doing that, then they go out into our neighborhoods and find something to keep them occupied, not even realizing that it is wrong until it’s too late.”

Cameron finishes, and I don’t think there are words to describe the feeling I have for that kid’s speech. A lot of people here must be thinking the same thing, because as I look around, I can see it on their faces. It’s kids like Cameron that make this charity my favorite. Knowing that it will help him in the long run only makes it that much sweeter.

The host steps back on stage, letting us know there is one more speaker, and afterward, dinner will be served. A heavy-set man steps up to the podium and clears his throat. A petite woman follows him and stands next to him, facing the table directly in front of the podium. When he begins to speak, her hands start moving with speed and grace. I wonder if what she is doing is sign language.

I lean forward and see that there is an older woman watching her intently, a soft smile on her face. She must be Mr. Moore’s wife. I miss most of what he says because the woman dressed in stars has captured all my attention. My main focus is on her—who she is, where she came from, does she live in Riverside, and how is she moving so fast with her hands, yet still so gracefully and fluidly with every motion. Her face mirrors the exact emotion that Mr. Moore is speaking with.

I think that if I were the person she was signing to, I would know the exact emotion that goes along with each word. It’s amazing. Truly amazing. Her presence adds a layer of depth to the speech, making it more than just words. It’s a performance, a dance of hands and expressions that brings the message to life in a way I’ve never seen before.

My sister elbows me, snapping me out of my reverie. My eyes drift from the beauty from the heavens back to the table where my brother and sister both have raised brows, giving me weird looks while clapping.

Shit, they’re clapping—that means the speech is over. I stand and start to clap, causing others to stand as well. My eyes go back to the spot where I saw the woman, but she’s gone.

As we all get our plates of filet mignon, creamy mashed potatoes, and sautéed vegetables, I notice the red wine reduction artfully drizzled around the golden plate, tying the meal together. We also receive a side salad with a red wine vinaigrette and a glass of Pinot Noir. After the dinner and entrée dishes are removed, we are given a dish of chocolate mousse paired with a small glass of port. The port and the mousse are phenomenaltogether, bringing out the richness of the chocolate. I’m about to ask for a second helping of dessert when the doors open to the gardens, signaling that mealtime is over. Now is the time to mingle, rub elbows, and dance the night away.

Everyone makes their way outdoors, which looks even better than the inside. They have raised the floor with some kind of clear plexiglass so that we can see the bushes and flowers that make this garden beautiful, and wound more twinkling lights around plants and along the walkways. It feels like we are walking on air, especially when I realize we are not covered with a tent—it’s just us and the night sky, full of stars.

My mother and I may not get along all the time, nor do we want the same things in life, but I have to say, her vision for this night has been spectacular. I am in awe of everything that was accomplished to make this night as magical as it has been.

From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of sparkle. My head snaps around quickly, my heart racing, desperate not to lose sight of my angel once again. The way the light dances off her dress, it’s as if she’s surrounded by a halo of stars, drawing me in with an almost magnetic pull.

Every movement she makes is fluid and graceful, captivating my attention entirely. She is standing next to Mr. and Mrs. Moore, smiling, as Mr. Moore signs to his wife and then holds his hand out to her, she takes it, and they head to the dance floor.This is it, my chance, do not fuck this up.I repeat to myself as I make my way over to the goddess standing against the wall, her eyes following the couples gliding across the dance floor. I clear my throat, and her gaze snaps to mine.

A jolt of electricity crackles between us, igniting the air. We stand there, locked in each other’s eyes. Her pulse flutters visibly in her neck, and goosebumps rise on her skin. My breath quickens, my heartbeat racing to match hers. The connection is undeniable, palpable. She feels it too—I can see it in the way hereyes widen, the way her lips part slightly, as if she’s about to speak but can’t find the words.

“Hi,” I say, my voice betraying a rare hint of nervousness. When do I get nervous around beautiful women? Never. I don’t know what this woman is doing to me, but I am feeling things I have never felt before, emotions I can’t even begin to describe.

“Hello,” she replies, her voice soft and angelic. She is tiny, no more than 5’3”, with dark hair and the clearest, lightest blue eyes I have ever seen. She truly looks like an angel. Her makeup is subtle, a golden shimmer on her eyes, but her bold red lips keep drawing my gaze back to them. I step closer, and she seems even smaller compared to my six-foot-two frame. She tilts her head to look up at me, her eyes locking onto mine.

“My name is Atlas. Would you like to dance?” I ask, my voice tinged with nerves, silently praying she won’t turn me down.

“Nice to meet you, Atlas. My name is Indya. Um, I would love to dance,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear and revealing the crystal drop earrings that dangle from her perfect little lobes. Her waist-length dark hair is curled in big waves, giving her an even more angelic look.All she is missing is wings,I think to myself.

I take her hand and guide her to the dance floor. The moment our hands touch, a spark ignites, sending a shiver down my spine. Her touch is electric, and I can feel the connection deep in my soul. My hand goes around her small waist, bringing her closer to my body, as my other hand clasps hers. Indya has one hand in mine and the other on my shoulder, but close to my neck, like she wants to reach up and play with my hair. If she didn’t have those heels on, we would be a little awkward trying to dance like this.

We move together, our bodies in perfect harmony, as if we’ve danced this dance a thousand times before. Her eyes neverleave mine, and in that moment, it feels like we are the only two people in the universe. The music swells, and we are lost in each other, our souls meeting in a dance of destiny.

When I begin to speak, hoping to get to know her a little better, the song changes. I turn my head toward the DJ booth and see my sister, Lyra, staring straight at me. Her smile is so big that her teeth are shining, and her dimples are making themselves known.

I understand why when the music starts. The song playing is one of my all-time favorites. When I was younger and heard it for the first time, I told Lyra that when I meet the girl I am going to marry, I will know right away because this song will be my sign that she is the one and not to let her go. My eyes widen as the memory floods back. I am dancing with Indya, a girl I just met, a girl with whom we have only exchanged names and nothing else, to the song that I felt was my destiny leading me to my future.

We don’t speak as we dance, only looking into each other’s eyes, letting the connection grow stronger with each lyric. The world around us fades away, leaving just the two of us in this moment. As All-4-One sings,I Swear, I feel a profound sense of certainty wash over me. This woman, this moment, feels like fate. My heart swells with emotion, and I know, without a doubt, that Indya is the person I will love with every beat of my heart. The lyrics echo my feelings, and I silently vow to cherish her, to never let her go. This is the beginning of something extraordinary, and I am ready to embrace it with all that I am.

Chapter Six

Indya

Wow. That is the only word I can use to describe this moment. Wow. I have never felt anything like this in my entire life. I have no words to describe the emotions that are running through my veins—I feel this powerful pull towards Atlas. It is almost as if he can read my mind through my eyes. Is he feeling this? Does he know how to describe it? Just, wow.

I saw Atlas, before he came over to speak to me. I saw him earlier speaking to a group of guys. From the looks of them, they must only hang out with beautiful people, because not one of them was anything but perfection. As I was chatting with the people at the table, of course, I sign as I speak, and when anyone else is speaking, so Patricia is a part of the conversation.

Everyone gushes about how stunning everything is, that the theme of the gala felt magical. Haven would have loved this. She for sure would have used the word magical.

Mr. Moore asks his wife to dance, she, of course, agrees with a slight blush on her cheeks. I found out they have been married for forty years, which is amazing in and of itself, these days. The only other person I know that has made it that long is Maggie from the boutique.

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