It started out as an act of defiance. I could talk. I just chose not to. At least, that was the plan. However, when I finally did decide to speak again, nothing came out. Not a single sound.

The doctors said that there was nothing wrong physically, so they called in the head shrinkers. That was interesting.

It was their expert opinion, that I was so traumatised by what had happened, my vocal chords forgot how to work. Well, duh! I was barely ten, accused of something I didn't do, and then caned when I refused to confess. Of course I was traumatised!

Miss Freeman lost her job over it. I was glad about that. Someone so cruel should never be a teacher.

As a class we'd raised more than a hundred dollars for...actually, I don't even remember what the money was for now. It's irrelevant. What's important is that a hundred bucks is a fair amount. It went missing, and Miss Freeman was convinced I'd stolen it.

I'll admit I was the class clown. I'll even admit, that sometimes I took things a bit too far, but I was no thief. I said as much at the time. She called me a liar and said that the whole class would be punished, unless I owned up.

That was all it took for my classmates to turn on me. They started saying stuff like, "just own up to it, Peacock!"

I remember yelling over and over, "BUT, I DIDN'T TAKE IT!" I'm sure the whole school could hear me, but no one actually listened.

Miss Freeman's response was to give me six of the best. It really hurt, even through my uniform, but what hurt more was the fact that no one at school believed me. No one stood up for me, not even my so called friends. So, I decided I'd never speak to any of them ever again.

Thank God, Dad believed me. Furious that I was caned for something I didn't do, he demanded that the principal, Mr Horgan, formally look into the matter.

Here's the fun part. It turned out that Miss Freeman had taken the money herself. Mr Horgan found it in an envelope, in her locker.

He speculated that she'd targeted the "rich kid," because in her distorted mind, it somehow justified her actions. She was sacked of course, but I never got an apology, and when she left, my voice left with her.

It took me almost twelve months to speak again, and when I did, I stuttered terribly. So, it doesn't take a genius to figure out why I prefer to stay silent.

For the last four years I've been shunted between doctors, speech pathologists and psychiatrists. While my speech has improved, I still stutter and lack the confidence to initiate a conversation. If I don't have to talk, I won't, but I could hear Madeline crying...

Dad hadn't come back to the hotel yet. Mum wasn't here either. She'd gone looking for Edith.

Edith is my sister. Everyone calls her Didi. I call her Didiot, because, well, she is! She's not sixteen for another two weeks, but she's been boy crazy since she started highschool, so I'm pretty sure she's already been kissed, and there's not much that's sweet about her.

Mum will probably find her in the bar downstairs, pretending to be twenty-one, flirting with every Tom, Dick or Harry dumb enough to pay her any attention. Hopefully, she's not stupid enough to actually drink...

Madeline was obviously distressed. She was trying to be quiet but, you know what it's like when you try to muffle a sob. It often doesn't work. I couldn't ignore it.

"M-Madeline are y-y-you okay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you." Madeline looked up at me and wiped her eyes with her sleeve, before gasping and clamping a hand over her mouth.

I hadn't expected such an odd reaction. My face must've shown my confusion, because Madeline took her hand away from her mouth to say, "Aunt Odette told me not to talk to you."

Ah, that explained it. Typical mum. I bet she sounded like a real ogre when she said it too. Poor Madeline looked terrified.

I tried my best to convey to her, that she hadn't done anything wrong. "It's okay, M-Madeline, you didn't d-d-dish-der-d-d-d..." Nope, that word wasn't coming out. I always find it weird when that happens. It isn't any word in particular, it's just having to articulate a whole sentence, that seems to freak me out. I tried again. "You're not d-d-d-d...you're not bothering me. I just wanted to-to-to see if you're okay."

She smiled. "Thank you. I'm fine."

I didn't buy it. It must be tough to lose both parents, and then have to move away from the only place you've ever known. I wouldn't be okay in her position.

I wanted to tell her that, but I could barely put a sentence together. I knew I'd have to speak very slowly and deliberately. She'll probably think I'm a retard, but I wanted to try anyway. I knew what it felt like to be alone. I'd felt completely abandoned when my classmates hadn't believed me. It wasn't a nice feeling.

I took a deep breath and gave it my best shot. "M-Madeline...you...a-are...allowed...to-to-to be...sad...b-b-but things...will...get...b-b-better..you'll see."

"No, they won't! I don't have any money of my own. I'll never see mum or dad ever again."

"But...your p-p-p-parents are-"

"I know they're dead Simon!" She finished my sentence for me, but I wasn't offended. I could see that, Madeline did it out of a frustration that had nothing to do with me. Unlike Didiot, she wasn't being deliberately rude.

Exhaling, she continued. "They're buried here...in Brisbane. I visit mum every year on my birthday...but this year...this year..."

Madeline was also struggling with her words, for different reasons, obviously. She took another deep breath. I waited. What she said next was pretty heavy.

"This year dad died...on...on my birthday..."

I wouldn't know which words to use, even if I could find them, so I didn't say anything. I just sat next to her, gave her my hankerchief, and let her cry.

Madeline smiled between her tears. "You have a very kind heart, Silent Simon."

"Silent Simon... I-I-I like that. Makes me sound d-d-d-deep and m-mysterious." I was being serious, but she laughed. When she saw that I wasn't laughing with her, she gasped again.

"Oh, no! Simon, please don't think I'm laughing at you. I'm laughing because I had this image of you...kind of like a superhero, with a cape and everything, and two S's emblazoned on your chest."

That made me laugh too, and suddenly we were both giggling stupidly. "I think y-y-you have a-a-a kind heart too. M-Madeline."

And just like that, we became friends. I don't have many friends. After most of my school mates had chosen to believe Miss Freeman, I found it hard to trust people; but somehow I knew I could trust Madeline. No one else had ever taken so much care to make sure I wasn't offended.

I have a follow up appointment with a shrink in Wickham Terrace, early, next year. This time it'll only be dad and I coming up to Brisbane, but I'm going to ask him if Madeline can come with us. Maybe she can visit her mum and dad, while we're here.