"Confidence is silent, insecurity is loud." 

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Born without a voice. Without vocal cords.

The Child of Silence.

I glared through the dying sunlight at the boy standing in front of me, gritting my teeth, tears burning at the edge of my vision. He jeered at me, face contorted into a menacing scowl.

"What, you can't talk?" His eyebrows raised up.

"Say sorry. Just say it." He bent down to study my face. "But you can't talk, can you? What a lame existence. Pathetic, aren't you?"

All I did was bump into him. Not even my fault he wasn't looking. My jaw hurt. I pushed him away when he got too close, gaining little satisfaction from seeing him stumble backwards.

His grin got wider and I hissed, blood boiling.

"Aye, girl's got spunk, ain't ya?" He sneered, lip curling upwards. "Well, guess what? I--"

And he went down, flat on his back.

I looked up to see my brother, eyes burning, hand curled into a fist by his side. Damian.

He stalked up to the boy, pulling him up by his t-shirt.

"What, you little jerk? What were you going to say?"

I shot up from my seat and grabbed his arm, pulling him away. Damian looked at me for a second before pushing the boy away and following me. The boy hit the ground running in the opposite direction.

I glared at him as I signed, my hands hitting each other hard.

I can handle myself.

Damian looked at me, incredulous. He waved a hand in the direction of the boy who'd ran off. "You? You were handling that?"

Yes.

He clenched his jaw. "Stop being an idiot Madeline. I told you not to be here alone. We're going home."

I can take care of myself. I'm ten years old.

"No you can't. You're only ten years old."

I hissed at him before pushing him out of the way as I stalked to the car. So what if I was only ten? I can handle myself. I can take on the bullies.

I heard him sigh as he opened the door to the driver's side.

"Listen, Madeline..."

I glared at him, folding my arms across my chest, turning my face towards the window when I sat down.

"I know you don't--"

I slammed my hands against the front seat, hissing at him again. I can handle myself. Stop thinking you have to watch over me all the time.

"Fine, fine. Whatever. Be like that then."

The locks clicked shut and he started the car. I stared out at the passing trees as we drove out of the park back towards our house. Only ten years old. I'll show you.

When we arrived back home, I slammed the door shut and walked back up to my room, marinating in my anger. I can't take care of myself. Yeah right. I can too. Stupid Damian. I don't need his help.

Mom called me for dinner and I stomped my way downstairs again, hearing the phone start to ring.

"Mind getting that for me, whoever just came down the stairs? I'm in the dining room," she said, her voice muffled through the walls.

I sighed as I picked up the phone and put it to my ear, hearing a person clear their throat on the other end.

"Hello? Is this Farha?"

It's for mom. Great.

"Hello? Anyone there?"

I clicked my tongue.

"Oh, Madeline honey. Please do me a favor and give the phone to your mother."

I nodded, fully knowing they couldn't see me as I walked over and handed it to mom. Phones. I hated phone calls.

Mom took the phone from me, motioning for me to go ahead and start eating. I sat down in my chair next to Dad, scooting myself as far from Damian as I could.

"My little Madeline feeling all right?" Dad looked at me, fork halfway to his mouth.

I nodded and looked down at my plate. I'm fine.

I glared down at my plate and as soon as dinner was finished, I ran back up the staircase to my room. Can't take care of myself, my foot!

I heard heavy footsteps behind me and rushed into my room, trying to close my door before he got through.

"Madeline, wait!"

He put his hand in the door and I stopped, letting go of the door and stepping backwards to let him inside. He sighed, coming down on his knees until he was eye-level with me. Dark eyes mirroring my own stared back at me when I looked up. He put his hands on my shoulders.

"Madeline...look," He sighed again and bit his lip. "Look. I'm sorry, okay? I know you think you can do this by yourself...but you're still my little sister. You're only ten."

You're only seventeen, I signed back at him.

He chuckled. "Yeah. Fine. I'm not all that old either. But...but you're still my little sister. I want to make sure you're okay."

I know how to do these things myself. I don't need your help just because I'm--

"That's not why I do it!" He frowned. "I want to take care of you because you're my little sister. Not because you're mute." He looked away, standing up and letting go of my shoulders.

"But fine. If you don't want me to help...I'll...I'll try not to. But no promises." His hand curled into a fist and I bit back a smile. Of course he'd say that.

I jumped on him, knocking him backwards into the door as I wrapped my arms around him, smiling into his chest. He smiled and hugged me back.

"That's my little sis."

The days came and went. School reopened after the summer break and I walked back through my classes. My translator wasn't here today so I was using a board to communicate again. Not that I was really communicating with anyone. Ah, the benefits of having people look at you like you're a freak show rather than a human being. Head down, eyes on my desk.

Books are my friends, my silence and their silence was the same. No voice for either of us.

I walked into Music class and the teacher passed out different instruments for us to try, giving us all some time to "get in the musical groove." I walked around the room, watching kids try out different instruments until I wandered over to the piano. A piano.

I lightly pressed down on one key, feeling the vibrations echo through the air. I pressed it again, listening to the sound. I perched on the end of the bench and tapped out a tune.

Pretty.

I saw the teacher staring at me and jerked back up, wandering back over to my seat and picking up the recorder, running my fingers over the grooves. Would this...?
I gingerly closed my lips around the mouthpiece and blew a trembling note into the air.

Hmm.

That's not right.

I tried again, a stronger, cleaner note this time. I paused and stared at the recorder. Let's try this again.

Closing my eyes, I felt the little holes in the recorder with the pads of my fingers. One more time.

A clean, simple tune flew out through my fingers. I smiled to myself.

Well hey. Would you look at that.

The teacher...Mr. Morrison, stopped me on the way out of class, asking me to come by after school. I nodded and gathered my things to leave, a new kind of spring in my step.

The school day dragged on and when the bell finally rang for us to leave, I ambled my way over to the music room and stared at the door. Do I open it? What if he was in a meeting or something?

I waved my fingers in front of the door, not sure if I was supposed to knock or just walk in.

Knock. Couldn't hurt...right?

I raised my hand and the door swung open. I jumped back before looking up at a pair of wild eyes staring at me.

My face twisted into a scowl.

You.

You're the...you're the stupid jerk.

I glared at him. What's he doing in my class?

His eyes widened as he looked at me before he dropped his hand from the door handle and stepped backwards, staring at the ground instead.

I heard Mr. Morrison's voice from inside, asking who it was.

The boy glanced at me and turned around.

"Just some girl."

Mr. Morrison walked up behind him and smiled at me. "Madeline. You're here." He waved me inside and I followed him, ignoring the stupid jerk beside him.

He walked over to his desk, pulling out another instrument and turning back to me.

"Ever seen this, Madeline?"

I shook my head.

"It's a flute. It's...it's like the recorder you were playing in class today," he said, leaning against his desk. "You have potential. I wanted you to try this one. It's a new flute, don't worry. One of my daughters bought it a few years back," he shrugged. "She lost interest in music before it even arrived at our house. I've been meaning to..."

I stopped listening, eyes transfixed on the flute.

A flute.

He held it out to me and I gently picked it up and tilted my head, staring at him, asking for permission.

He nodded.

I put the mouthpiece to my lips and blew a small weak note that staggered off the instrument and died on the floor beneath my feet. I winced.

"Of course, you'll need practice. I'd love to help," He raised an eyebrow and I nodded.

My new instrument.

A flute.

Hmm.

The next few weeks, school afternoons found me in the music classroom practicing the flute, learning the notes with Mr. Morrison. And that boy.

Aiden. That's his name.

Most hours were spent with Mr. Morrison alternating between helping me on the flute and Aiden on the piano. I ignored the jerk, keeping my eyes on my flute, practicing the notes I'd learned.

I still sucked. It wasn't like I was getting much better, but Mr. Morrison said it takes time. I'll get better. He said he saw "improvement."

Well at least I'd learned how to play "Mary Had A Little Lamb."

A man knocked on the door and Mr. Morrison stood up and glanced at us. "Give me one moment. I'll be back."

I watched him walk out before looking back down at my flute.I could see the boy, Aiden, staring at me from the corner of my eyes. I put the flute back up to my lips.

"I'm sorry."

I paused mid-note and turned to him, frowning. He ducked his head from behind the piano and slowly looked back up at me, biting his lip. Good. The jerk was guilty.

"You probably hate me, don't you?"
I quirked an eyebrow at him. Genius.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. I really am. I don't...mean to...err..just...tch." He dropped his eyes again, ears turning red. I stared at him. There's no way he's getting off that easy.

I walked over to my bag and pulled out my board, writing on it.

Sorry doesn't fix things, you know.

He nodded, reading the board. "I know. But it's a start, right?"

I stared.

"Okay, l know sorry ain't enough. But I really am sorry. I don't know why I acted like a total...I just got so mad.." His eyes burned and he clenched his fist, looking up at me before dropping it.

"I'm sorry."

He turned back to the piano just as Mr. Morrison walked back into the room and lessons started up again.

Sorry, he says.

He was mad...about what? Me bumping into him? This jerk has major anger issues.

Aiden looked back up at me. "I'm really sorry. I'd gotten in a fight with someone else right before you bumped into me. I guess I...ugh. I took it out on you. It wasn't even your fault." 

I pursed my lips and stared at him. Still not a reason to get mad at me. I went back to playing the flute as Mr. Morrison came back inside to help us. 

Days passed and I watched the leaves outside the window burn orange and red, dropping off the trees as winter came and danced in the breeze.

Mr. Morrison didn't show up one day, and Aiden and I were left alone in the classroom, waiting for him for twenty minutes. A grudging truce had settled between us. We weren't enemies anymore, but not friends either.

"He's probably not coming today."

Well he could've at least told us.

"He did mention it last class..." Aiden got up. "Come on, let's go."

Where.

I watched him go over to the teacher's desk and grab a bunch of papers. "He won't miss these. I'll return them later."

He glanced at my board.

"The other orchestra room. They have a better piano there."

I'll stay here.

He looked at me. "It's almost five o'clock..."

I frowned. And? This is a school building. I should be safe.

"Fine." He took the sheaf of papers and gathered his things, turning away. "I'll be in the other orchestra room, across the building."

I watched him walk out, feeling an empty silence settling over the room. I sighed and pulled out my flute, trying to practice a bit before I packed up and went home.

A few notes.

I winced as they rang out in the classroom.

I was used to...the other sounds too.

I bit my lip.

Fine.

I grabbed my things and walked over to the other classroom, opening the door and setting my bag down on the seat beside the door. Aiden was at the piano, playing something...I knew that...

Fur Elise.

I watched him from the door. There was a peaceful look on his face as his fingers glided over the keys. The notes flew out and danced around the room, skipping over the top of the piano and floating through the air.

He stopped and turned his head towards me. His expression turned to a smug smile and I frowned.

"I knew you would follow me."

I stuck my tongue out at him before turning to pull out my flute. He motioned towards a stand with a paper on it.

"That's for you."

I studied him then nodded. Okay. That was nice of him.

I walked over to the black stand and slowly blew into the flute, my fingers stumbling over the holes as I kept stopping to figure out which note was which. I saw him look at me before turning back to his piano.

I took a deep breath and tried again. The piano notes came slowly this time, matching mine.

A few minutes dragged on, and I stopped, frustrated. He looked over at me, raising his eyebrows. "What's wrong?"
This is frustrating.

"Well, of course it is. It's not easy. But you're doing fine."

I scowled. I can't get the hang of these notes.

He looked at me for a while. "Then fine. Don't do those notes. Just play something else."

Maybe music wasn't for silent people like me. Maybe books are better.

He frowned and stood up. "What's wrong with books?"
Nothing. They're silent. Like me.

He crossed his arms, coming up next to me and fingering the edge of the paper. "Books aren't silent. Books have a voice. You just have to listen closely." He paused and looked at me. "You do too. Have a voice, I mean. It's just not like everyone else's."

I'm mute.

"So? That doesn't mean you don't talk. You're not dumb. Mr. Morrison once told me...tell your own story. That's what books do, I guess. They tell the story they were born to tell. Same for me. You." He pursed his lips, cheeks tinged slightly pink as he dropped his eyes back to the sheet in front of us.

"It's just something stupid...ignore me."

I watched him go back to the piano, fingers stumbling over a few keys before he stopped and looked at me.

I gave him a tight smile and turned back to the sheet music. Let's try this again. I put the flute to my lips and took a breath. I can do this.

My story.

It's just as good as everyone else's.

Just different.

After a while, we took a break and I gave him a tired smile.

Thank you.

He blushed. "Y-you're welcome."

We walked out towards the front of the school and I waited for Damian's car to pick me up. Aiden sat down for a while, getting up when I saw my brother's car turning into the parking lot.

"My house is five minutes from here. I'd better start walking. "

I waved at him and he stuck his hands in his pockets, making his way down the sidewalk.

When I got home the day, I put the flute to my lips again, taking a deep breath.

5 Years Later...

The days floated by on the end of my flute as I played my way through the years.

I pulled the flute away from my lips, watching Aiden pace around the floor.

I clapped to get his attention.

What's up?

He looked at me, worried. "We have a show in ten minutes. I can't relax. What if I forget the...the..what if.." He waved his hands around, flustered.

Then I'll play it back to you. A true friend knows your tune and can play it back to you when you forget the notes. Isn't that right? That's what you told me, I signed.

He reddened.

"You still remember that?"

I grinned. Oh, Madeline. Books are not silent! They have a voice. And so do you!

I waved my arms, showing the drama.

He turned an even darker shade of red. "Oh shut up, will you? You weren't supposed to remember that."

I wiggled my eyebrows. But I do.

He huffed and went back to pacing. I rolled my eyes and climbed the steps to the stage, watching the curtains. Aiden used to be so quick to anger before. He's getting better at that. But he's not perfect...and neither am I. I guess we're friends now. 

Who's out there?

I leaned against the wall and pulled the heavy cloth away from the cold brick walls, scanning the room for my brother.

I spotted him in the third row, sitting next to a girl with glasses. She turned to him and said something. He leaned towards her and she repeated it into his ear. He pulled away and laughed, interlacing their fingers and kissing her hand. She blushed, biting her lip and turning away.

I grimaced. Ew.

But at least I like her. Heh.

I turned back to Aiden, who was still pacing backstage. I looked around and picked up the eraser on the table beside me. Poor eraser.
I aimed it at his head, and made a clean shot, laughing to myself as it bounced off his hair and he looked up from his reverie.

Come on, we're on in one minute.

"Fine, I'm coming." He took a deep breath and released it, looking up at me through the fringes of his hair.

"Ready?"

I nodded, smiling.

Let's go.

The curtains rose and I ran my eyes over the audience, spotting Mr. Morrison...Damian...Zeenath...my dad, alone, because mom was working late today. I turned back to Aiden. He gave me a tight smile and I grinned at him, winking. Let's do this.

The flute went up to my lips and I smiled, clean notes flying through the air, lilting and dancing over the edge of my flute, tripping through the room, over the shoulders of the audience, weaving in and out with the sounds of the grand piano and violins around me. This is where I belonged.

This was my voice.

This is my story.

And it isn't any less valid. 

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I may or may not add another chapter with someone else's POV. What do you think?

~October