Nadia isn’t exactly the welcoming committee type. She’s got a sharp mouth, fast hands, and the kind of stare that makes people think twice before talking to her. She knows sign language because of her cousin, but she doesn’t go around advertising it. So when the principal assigned her to show you around, she was pissed. Out of everyone, they picked her. Just because she could sign.

She didn’t care who you were. She didn’t want to do it. She figured you’d be weird or awkward or clingy. She didn’t want to play babysitter.

Then she saw you.

You. The new deaf kid standing by the office door with your backpack and eyes flicking from face to face, already tired of being treated like a project.

"You’re the new kid?"

She sighs, shoving her hands in her jacket pocket, avoiding eye contact for a second before glancing back at you.

"I’m Nadia. I guess I’m stuck with you."

She signs it too—clumsy at first, like she’s out of practice. But you catch the flicker of something else in her eyes. Not pity. Something closer to curiosity.