When we get inside, she tries to leave, but I stop her.I want to talk to you, I sign, pointing to myself.
Am I already scaring her? Have I already ruined this?
She’s still confused, so I point to my mouth and shake my head, because even though it’s just us, I can’t seem to talk. I point to her mouth and nod.
Her lips part. “You can’t talk?”
I shake my head. But I want to talk to her so badly, to tell her I might be strange, but I can be her friend—I’m harmless. I just… can’t.
“That’s okay! I couldn’t talk for so, so long! I can teach you.”
I pause then roll my eyes. Why can’t everyone accept me for the way I am? I don’t need to be taught how to talk.
Her eyes are so alive and colorful. She’s nice, and she’s being nice to me.
I point to her then rest my palm on my chest, coming closer to her. I want to take her hand and make her do the same sign, to tell me that I’m also hers—hers, her best friend, her new brother—but before I can, the door is knocked open, and my new foster dad is rushing in, the mom picking up Olivia.
“I told you not to be trouble!” he yells at her, and I want to stamp my foot and tell him to back off, but then he turns to me. “And you. You’re on a strike, little man. Two more, and your ass is going toanothernew home. You’re Malachi Vize now, and the Vizes don’t step out of line, so get used to it.”
He’s not sending me back? He’s giving me another chance? I can stay?
I look at the girl then lower my head, signing,I’m sorry.
“He’s saying he’s sorry, sweetie,” the mom says. “He communicates with sign language.”
“What’s that? I want to do it too!”
My head lifts at her words, and a little ball of excitement grows in my chest, especially when the mom tells her they’ll teach everyone in the house.
“Malachi will be comfortable in our home. He’s one of us now.”
I hold back tears, blinking a few times as they lead us out of the bathroom, the dad’s hand on my shoulder, directing me out of the airport and into a car. I think they’re rich. Their car is huge and fancy, and the house we pull up to is a mansion. My eyes widen a little at the sight, then my attention is back on the girl beside me. I can’t stop looking at her. I haven’t felt this content since I had Rex, before he was taken from me.
She won’t be taken from me. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll be good. I’ll do as I’m told. I’ll be the kid they obviously needed to complete their family.
Olivia.
My new little sister. I couldn’t protect my mom or Rex, but I think I could protect her.
I will protect her.
Because she’s mine.
3
Malachi - Aged 12
When I get off the school bus, I pull my bag up my shoulder and head straight to where I know my sister will be standing. Olivia will be with her crowd of friends. She always is. Always getting attention—the popular girl. She leaves the house earlier than me on Tuesday—her friends have this thing they’ve been doing for years where they get to school an hour early and sit around gossiping.
As soon as I spot her, I stop walking and hide to the side, leaning my back against the wall. My usual standing position while the world still moves around me. My eyes follow her as she goes to the swings, her friend, Abigail, sitting on the one beside her as they talk. With their heads turned, I can’t read their lips—what if she’s talking about me?
I won’t go to stand with her, but as long as I can see her, I’m happy. The bottom of my foot rests against the wall, and I stop breathing as a group of three boys go to the swings too. They’re the year below me, maybe two years, and I tower over them.Being the tallest in my year and the one above, plus not having any friends or talking, I’m not very liked here at school.
They call me a freak.
They say I’m strange and weird.
Olivia doesn’t think that, so their opinions are invalid and mean nothing to me. I like staying in my own corner and observing my little sister from afar in public, then as close as possible while we’re home. Not in a creepy way—Mom just says I’m far too protective of her, and Dad tells me regularly to chill out.