You could hear heavy raindrops hit the car roof. They were rhythmic, like the beating of a drum. The windshield wipers were thrashing about, so fast you’d think they’d fly away. My dad was driving and he was telling me about one of his new crazy stories. I could picture my mom rolling her eyes in the front seat. A light was flashing in the distance, moving closer to our car. I let out a shriek as my head hit the glass.
I gasped for breath and screamed. I fumbled for my lamp and switched the light on. It was just a dream. I grabbed my phone. It was 7:48 am.
”Agh! I’m gonna be late!”
I scrambled into a pair of light-wash jeans and a grey sweatshirt and looked in my bathroom mirror. My hair was massively tangled and there was drool all over my face. I bolted out the door into my mom’s car and put my headphones on before they were abruptly pulled off by my mother.
“Izzy, you have to talk to me!”
“No, you won’t let me play at the concert. You know how much it means to me,” I said.
“I’m trying to protect you. Try to understand,” she pleaded.
I burned holes into her eyes as I stared into them. “No, I will never understand.” I slammed the car door and ran to music class.
“Hi Isabelle, will you be in the concert?” My music teacher, Mrs. Harper had a colourful fashion sense that involved polka dot skirts and pink bow ties. She was young and always happy. I admired her.
“Yes, I’ll be there playing the piano.”
Mrs. Harper’s face broke into a smile. “That’s perfect! I’m so excited.”
“Me too.”
???
I was about to leave the house when someone forcefully nudged me.
“Where are you going?” asked Mallory, my younger sister. She had crutches and a cast, but she was lucky. She’d be healed soon. I was stuck like this.
“Out. Don’t tell mom.”
“You know I’m going to.”
“Fine, do whatever you want,” I said as I marched to school for the concert.
“Great. You’re here. Just in time,” Mrs. Harper chirped. “Your mom’s here too.” Mrs. Harper turned around and there she was. And she looked mad.
“You weren’t allowed to go. You disobeyed me.” Her arms were flying up and down as she yelled.
“I wanted to go. Why wasn’t I allowed?” I shrugged.
“Because you’re deaf! You can’t play anymore!” she shouted. “People will laugh at you.”
“That’s it?!" I scoffed. “Mom, don’t worry. I can do this,” I said calmly. “I can still play. You’d know if you listened to me at home.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt,” she cried.
“I won’t. I promise.” I hugged my mom tightly.
Before the accident, before I was deaf, I never really paid attention to noise. I cancelled out certain sounds. As I stepped onto the stage and placed my hands on the keyboard, I thought of the sound of music. Although I couldn’t hear it, I could feel it. And it was beautiful.