Page 46 of Hunt Me

Milo stands up and cradles his coffee to his chest like it’s a newborn baby, and he gives me a slow up-and-down look. “If you hurt him, I will cut your toes off and feed them to you.”

He sweeps out of the room as I try not to react to his threat because I have a feeling it’s very real.

“He doesn’t like knives, don’t worry,” Percy says, as though that’s supposed to be some kind of comfort. He waves me over. “Do you prefer speaking when you’re wearing those? Because we can sign if you like.”

In reality, I’m not used to being asked that. When I’m not in class and not with my Deaf friends, everyone just assumes I want to default to using my voice. Even at home, my parents viewed my implants as something like a cure. I was expected to keep up and follow along and assimilate.

I did not expect this courtesy here, but maybe I should have.

Just like all of Archie’s questions have been, Percy’s question is genuine. He’s watching me with careful eyes as he slides a coffee mug over toward me. It’s in the shape of a tombstone, and my lips twitch as I stare down at it.

“Archie’s?”

Percy snorts. “I’m not going to say good guess. He doesn’t even try to hide his special interests.”

I grin and fill the cup as Percy clears his throat, reminding me that I haven’t answered his question. “Speaking is fine,” I tell him.

“Not the question I asked,” he volleys back at me. I don’t really know what to say though. Sometimes signing is easier. My hearing fatigue comes on fast, but this early in the morning, I enjoy listening to the different cadences of speech.

I don’t remember what it was like to hear much from before I got sick, so I have no idea how things should sound naturally. But this is natural to me, and Percy’s voice is…unique.

And nothing like his brothers’.

I search for a spoon so I can add sugar when I hear Percy let out a small sigh. When I glance over at him, he points his knife at me.

“Did you lose your hearing? Or born that way?”

“Measles,” I tell him, moving to the seat Milo left unoccupied. “My parents are…kind of hippies. Anti-vax before it became an internet trend. They took me to a chickenpox party, but the kid didn’t have chickenpox.”

He grimaces. “Shit.”

“I don’t remember it. I was three.” I sip my coffee and groan. It’s way better than the swill they keep in stock in the staff building at the college.

“Your parents made you get those?” he asks, pointing at the side of my head.

“Well, they didn’t ask if I wanted them, if that’s what you mean. I don’t remember much of that either, to be honest.” It’s still a sore topic. Both of my parents have narcissistic tendencies, but my mom’s louder about hers than my dad is.

Anytime I complain, she takes it personally and twists it around until I’m apologizing to her for making her feel bad.When I was twelve, the magnet in my head shifted on the right side, and it disabled the implant. I got an infection after the surgery and ended up in the ICU for nine days.

Somehow, I ended up apologizing forthattoo.

“Childhood trauma,” Percy says, clearly reading my face journey.

“Sorry. Being Deaf means I have no poker face.”

He snorts and shrugs as he lifts his hands. ‘I don’t mind. I like being able to read people.’

Tilting my head to the side, I study his signs. ‘You’re better than your brother.’

‘Archie?’ he asks.

I shake my head no and make the sign for cat.

Percy laughs and rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah. He tries for Archie, but he doesn’t have the patience for it. He doesn’t have the patience for much except his café and his rescues.’

That is very obvious. Percy seems to be the one blessed with the most patience between the three of them, but I don’t point that out.

Instead, I sip my coffee until it’s mostly gone. ‘I should go.’