The classroom was quiet when the redhead and I went back in.
I didn’t meet any of the curious stares, just sat down and got out a piece of paper. Let them think what they liked.
The redhead sat down next to me. She gestured for the piece of paper. I gave it to her and watched her write. Her cursive was smooth and elegant, the pen point never leaving the page. She handed the paper back to me.
Connor is learning sign language. He is registered for a full year of ASL and ASL 2 at BCC. It would be good to fill your time if you could help him practice.
I glanced up at Connor. He was staring at me. But when our gazes locked, he ducked his head.
Can’t he just use the internet? I replied in my scrawl.
The redhead smirked as she wrote her reply, The class requires you communicate with deaf people and involve yourself in the culture. You’re the closest thing we’ve got here.
I rolled my eyes, pushed the paper away, “The closest thing isn’t always good,”
The redhead shrugged, putting her pen down as she replied, “But it’s good enough.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“Just because I’m deaf doesn’t mean I live like I’m deaf. I can speak. Many deaf people, who truly immerse themselves in the culture, can’t. Many deaf people who know ASL as their first language, don’t have as proficient English skills as I do. Deaf and hearing people are different. I’m deaf, but I might as well be a hearing person by the way I act.”
The redhead had no reply. I snatched the paper back and threw it in the trash.
-
“Hey, Ayden.”
I looked up when Connor said my name twenty minutes later.
“Why don’t you help me?”
“Because what’s the point? It’s not like you’re gonna become super-dedicated to it.”
Connor shrugged. “I could.”
I snorted. “Right. And pigs will fly.”
“Why do you have a hard time believing me?”
“Because usually, people who wanna ‘learn’ stick with the program for two weeks, maximum, and then give up.”
“Well, you can always encourage me.”
“Tried that. Didn’t work. Find another person. I’m not gonna be your guinea pig.”
“Will you guys stop talking and get to work?” the redhead piped up.
Connor ignored her. “Look, trust me.”
I shook my head, smirked, “No.”
“Are you really that sure of me?”
“When there’ve been about twenty other jocks-slash-bad boys like you, yes.”
“I’m not a jock.”
“You’re either one or the other. You gotta be to be in Study Hall.”
“So what are you?”
I shrugged, “Disabled.”
“That’s bull.”
“Run with it, then. I’m full of shit.”
“You two!” the redhead barked. “Stop talking. Stop swearing! Get to work!”
I focused on the sheet of paper. Didn’t hear another peep out of Connor again. Thank God.
-
“So, tell me,” a girl sat next to me on the bus, all sparkling blue eyes and beaming smile. “What on God’s green earth possessed you to move to one of the snobbiest schools in Washington State?”
“Academic and social reasons.”
“Anything specific?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, it’s personal.”
I nodded. She said something just as the bus started up.
“Hmm?” I asked her.
“Does it have to do with any bullying or anything?” the girl spoke up.
I could only stare at her in surprise.
She grinned ruefully, speaking over the engines, “The same thing happened to me. I transferred in the middle of freshman year. I’m Sara Fox, by the way. I’m in your sixth-period Study Hall.”
I remembered Sara. She was a peppy dark-haired junior, all optimism and spunk.
“So am I right?” Sara said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Let me guess, because you’re deaf?”
I shook my head, “No.”
“Why?”
“I’m not gonna tell a stranger my personal life.”
“Fair enough. I apologize.”
“It’s okay. It was pretty bad. So I’m still trying to…eh, you know?”
“How bad?” Sara asked. “I mean, if you wanna tell…”
“On a scale of one to ten, it was an 8.”
“Oh, my God. That bad.”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, well. Wow.”
“I don’t really wanna talk about it.”
Sara nodded silently and changed the subject.
You've done it yet again! 
(I also like how you just call that one lady "redhead"...it's funny.)