teacher, teacher | {python}

Today was a blur of grey. The doom and gloom overcast twisted the early morning into an illusion of evening, leaving her disoriented when the alarm beneath her pillow vibrated. Cheek tingling, she noted the absence of a yellow tint on her wall and peeked out the window in search of sunlight. Clouds were thicker when mixed with the poison of pollution. A moist, sickening concoction would hover above their heads, and most of the population would be oblivious to it. People lived their whole lives without knowing or acknowledging factory pollution because it was an accepted side effect of labor. Avita only knew because she had designed the prototype of a shield against it. As she scanned the skies, she inhaled fresh clean air with just a hint of mom’s cooking.

She was supposed to dress “appropriately” for academy, so she buttoned up a standard white blouse with short sleeves and tucked it into her skirt. The muggy weather probably wouldn’t set well with her skin, but there wasn’t much else she could wear to counter the moisture. As a compromise, she tied her rusty hair back into a bun to keep her neck exposed to airflow. Downstairs, breakfast waited on a skillet. Dad signed her the latest news about his work schedule, and mom moved her lips at the television every time a commercial interrupted her favorite program.

By the time she packed up her school supplies and walked out, her parents were speaking to one another in tongue. Contrary to what they believed, it didn’t make her feel “left out.” She was surrounded by flapping lips and senseless gestures. There was nothing alien about it, and it certainly didn’t isolate her. She was learning how to read lips anyway.

The teacher handed her a note at the beginning of lecture. “School project announcement today, you will be partnered.” She sat down at her desk and crumbled it up. He was always nice enough to warn her of important announcements beforehand, so she wouldn’t have to struggle too much with guessing lips and passing questions to classmates. It gave her the benefit of mental preparation. She could start brainstorming ideas while the rest of the students filed in. “Partnered” implied that she wouldn’t be allowed to choose. She hoped the teacher had considered her partner wisely, unless it was random selection.

She waited for the students to stir, then narrowed her eyes. Again, he was kind enough to point her in the right direction. Her partner was a boy who coughed into his hand the moment she laid eyes on him. Oh no, was he ill? A sickness during a final project was a bad omen. She wasn’t superstitious, but she thought logically. His contribution might be reduced, and their meeting times shorter if he became bed-ridden.

Between two more spasms, he spoke to her. She didn’t know what a cough sounded like, but she knew what it felt like. The vibration in her chest was always violent and painful. She hadn’t been sick in months, but perhaps that would change soon enough. As long as I pass, I don’t mind.

She opted to point to her ears and shrug rather than continue guessing what he said to her. In blue ink, she scribbled on a sheet of paper, ”I can’t hear. My name is Avita.” and thought it best to leave it at that.