The sound of the halls echoed on my ears, taunting me and teasing me. The sound of girls gossiping and chatting, boys talking and laughing. Something I could never do. I wished at every birthday, on every dandelion, and every shooting star, for a voice. I shook my head, scanning the crowd. A girl with jet black hair walked past me, her eyes on her white sneakers. A boy with a blue t-shirt and a girl with a gray tank top and jean shorts giggled as they pasted. 

***

"Miss Hauna, please do this on the board." I nod, standing up, doing the division of decimals review question on the board. Scanning my work, she nods, and I sit. Sighing, I glance of the window, cars speeding past every so often, and people walking in and out of the apartment across the road. The grass and birch trees swayed in the wind, along with people's scarfs and long coats. I look back at the board. They were answering more questions, I put my head on my hands, we've been doing this since grade 7, I don't need another review. A bell rung, making my jump. I walk out, dodging people as I made it to my navy coloured locker. The blue paint was beginning to chip away, reveling a strange color of emerald green. 

The cafeteria was a mess of noise, food and teenagers. I sat at a small table near the windows, reading a novel I had borrowed from the library a week back. It was a sappy love story, but it had beautiful characters, and a nice writing style. I wince as a drop of pasta sauce drips from my fork onto the page, and I quickly wipe it away. I become more wrapped into the book, and hardly notice a tray being placed down in front of me. I look up, seeing a boy my age with tan-ish skin and dark brown hair. 

"Hi, mind if I sit here?" He asks, already sitting. I wave and shake my head. Of course I didn't mind! It's been a week and nobody's sat here. He gives me a strange look. 

"The name's Zeke." He says, opening his water bottle. "Yours?"

Ohh crap. How should I do this. I pull out a notebook from my pocket, one kept for things like this. I write; My name's Fawn, how are you? I show him the notebook, though he still looks puzzled. He pauses, and puckers his lips slightly. 

"I'm good.... why do you have a... notebook thing?" He asks. It's incredibly annoying when someone asks me this, do you think I'm just trying to confuse you, and be difficult? I feel like the little mermaid, except for the fact that I'll never be able to get my voice back. I sigh, and scribble down; What'cha think? I can't. I-. I look down at my hands and hand it to him. He reads it, then over again. He makes a grunting noise. 

"Oh..." His voice trails off. "Well, do you wan-" He is cut off by the bell. He scribbles something down on the notepad and races off. I look at it. A phone number was written down. I smiled. What a world we live in, where someone can be as lost, until they find a person who has a map.