Melody (Logan 1)

I jumped when I heard someone behind me. May stood in the doorway.

"Hi," I said and waved. She came into the room with a book. She plopped on the bed and opened the book, pointing to a page. I sat and gazed at her math text. "You want help?" I asked. I pointed to the page and to myself and then to her. She nodded, signing what I assumed meant, "Yes, please help me."

"This is just figuring percentages," I muttered. "It's easy."

She stared at me. I kept forgetting she couldn't hear a single word. What would it be like, I wondered, to live in the world and never hear a bird sing or music, never know the comforting sound of a loved one's voice. It seemed unfair, especially for a little girl as nice as May.

"Okay," I said nodding. I gestured at the desk and she followed. I sat with her standing beside me and began to do the problems, struggling to explain what I was doing. Despite my difficulty to

communicate, she appeared to understand my guidance, carefully reading my lips. When she did a problem, she quickly followed my lead. She was clearly a bright girl.

We did another problem and again she picked up my suggestions quickly.

"What's going on?" I heard and turned to see Cary in the doorway.

"I was just helping May with her math homework."

"I help her with her math," he said. "She can't hear you. It makes it too difficult for her," he said.

"She's doing just fine with me."

He signed something to May and she looked upset. He signed again and she shook her head.

"If she doesn't do well, it will be your fault," Cary snapped and walked away.

"He's not very friendly," I muttered.

May didn't see my lips move, but she was apparently not bothered by Cary's attitude. She smiled at me and went to my suitcases, inquisitively tapping on the fiddle case. She looked at me curiously.

"It's a fiddle," I said. I opened the case and took out the bow. Her eyes widened with surprise. How horrible, it occurred to me: she won't be able to hear me play.

But she urged me to do so anyway. I smiled and shook my head, but she seemed to plead with those big eyes.

"But how can you. . .?" I was confused.

She nodded at my fiddle.

I shrugged, picked up the bow, and played.

May stepped closer. I ran the bow over the strings and played a jaunty mountain ditty. Slowly: she raised her hand and put her fingers on the fiddle. She closed her eyes.

She's feeling the vibrations, I realized, and sure enough, her head moved slightly up and down with the undulations in the rhythms. I laughed happily and continued.

Suddenly, Cary was at my door again, buttoning a clean white shirt. "What are you doing with her now?" he demanded.

I stopped, lowering the fiddle. May opened her eyes with disappointment and then turned to see what I was looking at.

"She wanted to know what this was and then she wanted me to play it for her."

"That's a pretty sick joke," he said.

"She was listening through her fingers," I began to explain, but he shook his head and walked away again. I fumed.

"Your brother," I told May, "is a . . a monster." I exaggerated my eyes and twisted my mouth when I minted to the doorway. She looked at me, shocked for a moment, then when she realized what I meant she laugh

ed.

May's sweet laughter calmed my temper.