Page 42 of Tempting the President

But before I could speak—-

“FUCK OFF.”

I jerked in shock at the words. The voice was menacing, mortally so. The guy who spoke hadn’t shouted the words, but he didn’t have to. If looks could kill, well, this man – he made it obvious that words could kill, too.Painfully.

Shuffling footsteps answered him, and I knew by the sound of it that the boys had scrambled away. Realizing it left me even more dazed. A part of me was incredulous, the other part awed.

Was he really that scary? I was tempted to see for myself, but I had a feeling if I tried to move, I would just end up falling.

“You okay?” It was the guy again, and he was speaking in a moderate voice. Anormalvoice, the way people should when speaking to the Deaf. It had been one of the first things Bobby taught me. With Deaf who were capable of lip-reading, there was no reason one had to speak abnormally slow or, heaven forbid,loud.

“Good. Sign language class, this club. Join, you?” The way the guy spoke, I knew he was adept at signing, knew that he was aware their grammar worked differently from ours.

“Cry. It’s okay. Scared, don’t be. Trust me. It’s okay.”

My chest tightened at his words. Like a bolt being screwed into place, forcing my heart to come back to life, it got so tight it was almost impossible to breathe without gasping.

“Hope, don’t lose.”

So, so, tight.

Why,I wondered painfully,did it feel like this guy was talking to me, too?

I looked around me, and the world I had known had turned into something different. It wasn’t as dark. Wasn’t as rotten. Wasn’t as...unclear.

“Not everyone like them. Shit on legs.”

I covered my mouth before a laugh could escape me.

So, so tight.

I wanted to laugh and cry, but it was beyond me. All I could do was breathe.

“Good. Strong, you. Good. Brave. Good.”

I pressed my hands harder against my mouth, trying to silence my gasps even as my chest felt close to exploding.

Somewhere along the way, between despair and anger, between grief and bitterness, I had made myself believe that everyone was like Amelie and Dan.

Selfish.

Murderously selfish.

Until this guy outside.

If this guy had been there—-

If this guy had seen Ashton inside the car, had realized what was happening—-

My baby brother would still be alive.

It was a...comforting thought.

Outside, the guy was still speaking. “Don’t forget. Me, in your corner.”

I touched my lips, and I started to cry, really cry, when I realized that my lips had curved into a smile.

Ashton, you got my letter, didn’t you?