Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [2]
I can’t say when Will’s amplifier stopped producing sound altogether and threatened to ignite the school’s electricity supply. But I remember exactly how I felt as I raised my arms and screamed at the top of my lungs—the kind of obnoxious, over-the-top response I normally reserved for our sports teams’ own goals and air-balled free throws. I remember my shock as Kallie raised her arms too, like she thought I was seriously impressed with the band. And I can still picture Josh and Will and Tash smiling and pumping their fists in the air. But most of all I remember how great it felt to vent, whatever my motives, to share an animal scream with four other people who gave even less of a crap than I did. For a moment I even allowed myself to believe that the blackened air was nothing less than the whole damn school disintegrating into beautiful, blissful oblivion . . . right until the principal burst through the main door, drowning everything and everyone in foam from a gratuitously large fire extinguisher.
By the time the fire truck arrived, the amps were nothing but an electrical dog pile on our school’s formerly pristine steps, and Dumb had been hit with a week-long in-school suspension for committing unforgivable acts of “noise pollution”—the principal’s words, but no one seemed to disagree. It should have been the end of the group really, considering their punishment, and the inescapable fact that their amps were ruined. But in one of those crazy rock music situations I came to know firsthand, the moment of their untimely demise became the moment Dumb was truly born.
For the rest of the day, freshmen reenacted the moment when the amp actually caught fire. Even the band’s staunchest critics began scrawling eulogies on bathroom stalls. Suddenly the world of North Seattle High revolved around Dumb—the only topic anyone discussed anymore. At least, that’s how it seemed to me. I think that’s what everyone was talking about. But in the interests of accuracy, I should admit that it’s kind of hard for me to tell because, well, you know.
I’m deaf.
SUCK·I·NESS [SUHK-EE-NIS] -noun
WATCHING your parents pay exorbitant real estate prices so that you can live in a school district with deaf programs
LEARNING that educational budget cuts include shutting down said deaf programs at your high school
DISCOVERING that your equally deaf BFF Marissa’s parents have chosen to protest the decision by moving to San Francisco
LISTENING to your recently laid-off father complain about the aforementioned exorbitant real estate prices, and hypocritically criticizing his daughter for moping about Marissa leaving, when he’s constantly moping about losing his job
REALIZING you’re completely alone . . . even in a crowd
CHAPTER 2
As usual, my brother Finn (he’s a freshman) wasn’t waiting by the car (aka USS Immovable, a 1987 Chevy Caprice Classic Brougham that consumed fuel in legendary quantities) when school ended. What was unusual was that it didn’t bother me. For once I wasn’t in a hurry to get home, so I sprawled across the massive hood and basked in what remained of the sunshine.
I watched my fellow seniors tumble out of school, engaging in ritualistic chest-bumping, conspicuous air kissing, and flagrant butt-groping. When all socially accepted forms of physical contact had been exhausted, they ambled to their cars like they were reluctant to leave the school grounds. Some even pretended to have trouble unlocking their car doors, just in case the opportunity for further socializing might present itself. I waved to a couple of girls from Calc, but I guess they didn’t see me.
I closed my eyes and concentrated on feeling the sun against my face—so warm, so relaxing, so rare in the Seattle fall. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, Finn was shaking my arm pretty hard, which scared the crap out of me.
If anyone asks, I’ve been with you here the last ten minutes, okay? he signed feverishly.
I narrowed my eyes, but nodded anyway. Whatever he was about to be accused of, he