The Window Read Online Free
disaster, everything crashed out. Hi."
"Mandy," says Ms. Zeisloff, "this is Hannah Welsh."
"Hi," the girl says again, "I'm taking you around for a few days. You scared?"
I can't believe she's asked me that. What right does she have to ask how I feel? That's private and I don't even know her.
"Thank you," I say, "I will appreciate your help."
And then, like I've leaned in to invite it, this Hannah girl hugs me. Where does she get off, thinking just because I'm blind I can be hugged?
The three of us go into the school together, Ms. Zeisloff doing a running commentary about where we are.
"This is the main hall," she says. "To get to my room we turn right and go through the outside doors at the end."
Hannah's by my side. "What's the best thing for me to do?"
"I'll take your elbow," I say, grateful she asked instead of just taking hold of my arm.
We pass a room with an open door and I hear a man talking about simultaneous equations. Some kind of blower keeps coming on and off up above us, and far away a phone is ringing.
I don't know what to do with my cane and I wish I wasn't carrying it. It screams what I am.
I try tucking it under my arm, but I realize how dumb that must look.
Sooner or later, Mandy, I tell myself, you're going to have to use this thing here. May as well be now.
I stretch the cane out in front, begin the side-to-side sweeping that's still hard for me to do, that makes my wrist and whole forearm ache. Sweep it side to side and back along the hard, smooth floor. Drag it along the wall that I'm going to have to remember.
We reach the end of the hall.
"This door pushes out, Mandy," Ms. Zeisloff says, and I think she's going to make me try it right then, but Hannah opens and holds it for me.
The resource room is at the other side of a courtyard, in a building by itself. "It's a temporary," Hannah says, "but it's been here as long as I can remember."
Then she's saying, "This is where I leave you, but I'll come back before school lets out."
Ms. Zeisloff and I go in together, into a room of electronic clicks and whirs, of electric smells, a room just a little bit too cold.
"Everybody," Ms. Zeisloff says, rapping on something tinny-sounding for attention. Most of the clicking noises stop. I wish I knew how many people were in the room.
I wait for Ms. Zeisloff to say, "This is Mandy," but instead a boy breaks in.
"Welcome to the land of the blind, deaf, lame, maimed, outraged, and outrageous," the guy says, his voice not far from my ear. "You anything besides blind?"
"Ted, sit down!" Ms. Zeisloff seems exasperated but not angry.
"All right, Ms. Z., all right," says the boy. "Just welcoming the new inmate."
"Don't mind him," a girl says. "In my opinion, Ted's got some functional psychological behavioral disorder. Besides not being able to hear, of course."
It's like being in the middle of circling madness, and I want to make it hold still so I can get a clear look. I grab on to the one thing that seems a solid lie.
"If Ted's deaf, how did he hear Ms. Zeisloff?" I ask.
"Not really deaf," the girl says, "hearing impaired. Also, he reads lips. Also, he can be a real jerk."
"But, Stace," says Ted, "now we know our new inmate talks as well as walks. And she's not stupid, folks. There's a questioning brain behind those sightless eyes."
Talk about first days.
Chapter 4
E VERYONE'S WAITING for me when school lets out.
I try to do the introductions right. "Hannah, this is my great-aunt Emma and my great-uncle Gabriel and my great-uncle Abe." I hear how awkward it sounds, those rolling
greats,
and I wonder why I've bothered with them.
But if the others find them funny, they don't say.
Aunt Emma tells Hannah she believes she knows her mother and asks what all Hannah does. It seems to be almost everything from student government to baby-sitting.
I'd wondered why Hannah was messing with me, but hearing the list I can guess: I'm probably some sort of service club project.
Then we're driving home and
"Mandy," says Ms. Zeisloff, "this is Hannah Welsh."
"Hi," the girl says again, "I'm taking you around for a few days. You scared?"
I can't believe she's asked me that. What right does she have to ask how I feel? That's private and I don't even know her.
"Thank you," I say, "I will appreciate your help."
And then, like I've leaned in to invite it, this Hannah girl hugs me. Where does she get off, thinking just because I'm blind I can be hugged?
The three of us go into the school together, Ms. Zeisloff doing a running commentary about where we are.
"This is the main hall," she says. "To get to my room we turn right and go through the outside doors at the end."
Hannah's by my side. "What's the best thing for me to do?"
"I'll take your elbow," I say, grateful she asked instead of just taking hold of my arm.
We pass a room with an open door and I hear a man talking about simultaneous equations. Some kind of blower keeps coming on and off up above us, and far away a phone is ringing.
I don't know what to do with my cane and I wish I wasn't carrying it. It screams what I am.
I try tucking it under my arm, but I realize how dumb that must look.
Sooner or later, Mandy, I tell myself, you're going to have to use this thing here. May as well be now.
I stretch the cane out in front, begin the side-to-side sweeping that's still hard for me to do, that makes my wrist and whole forearm ache. Sweep it side to side and back along the hard, smooth floor. Drag it along the wall that I'm going to have to remember.
We reach the end of the hall.
"This door pushes out, Mandy," Ms. Zeisloff says, and I think she's going to make me try it right then, but Hannah opens and holds it for me.
The resource room is at the other side of a courtyard, in a building by itself. "It's a temporary," Hannah says, "but it's been here as long as I can remember."
Then she's saying, "This is where I leave you, but I'll come back before school lets out."
Ms. Zeisloff and I go in together, into a room of electronic clicks and whirs, of electric smells, a room just a little bit too cold.
"Everybody," Ms. Zeisloff says, rapping on something tinny-sounding for attention. Most of the clicking noises stop. I wish I knew how many people were in the room.
I wait for Ms. Zeisloff to say, "This is Mandy," but instead a boy breaks in.
"Welcome to the land of the blind, deaf, lame, maimed, outraged, and outrageous," the guy says, his voice not far from my ear. "You anything besides blind?"
"Ted, sit down!" Ms. Zeisloff seems exasperated but not angry.
"All right, Ms. Z., all right," says the boy. "Just welcoming the new inmate."
"Don't mind him," a girl says. "In my opinion, Ted's got some functional psychological behavioral disorder. Besides not being able to hear, of course."
It's like being in the middle of circling madness, and I want to make it hold still so I can get a clear look. I grab on to the one thing that seems a solid lie.
"If Ted's deaf, how did he hear Ms. Zeisloff?" I ask.
"Not really deaf," the girl says, "hearing impaired. Also, he reads lips. Also, he can be a real jerk."
"But, Stace," says Ted, "now we know our new inmate talks as well as walks. And she's not stupid, folks. There's a questioning brain behind those sightless eyes."
Talk about first days.
Chapter 4
E VERYONE'S WAITING for me when school lets out.
I try to do the introductions right. "Hannah, this is my great-aunt Emma and my great-uncle Gabriel and my great-uncle Abe." I hear how awkward it sounds, those rolling
greats,
and I wonder why I've bothered with them.
But if the others find them funny, they don't say.
Aunt Emma tells Hannah she believes she knows her mother and asks what all Hannah does. It seems to be almost everything from student government to baby-sitting.
I'd wondered why Hannah was messing with me, but hearing the list I can guess: I'm probably some sort of service club project.
Then we're driving home and
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