Torey Hayden - Beautiful Child - The story of a child trapped in silence and the teacher who refused to give up on her

I smiled and nodded. “Sounds great to me.”

I was trying to shove a filing cabinet back out of the way when Julie arrived.

“Let me give you a hand with that,” she said cheerfully and grabbed hold of the other side. We wrestled it into the corner. “Bob told me you were hard at work up here. Are you getting on all right?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said.

She was a pretty girl – not a girl, really – she had to be older than she looked, but she was slightly built with delicate bones, pale, dewy skin, and clear green eyes. She had thick bangs and long, straight, reddish blonde hair, which was pulled back from her face in a sweet, schoolgirl style. Consequently, she appeared about fourteen.

“I’m looking forward to this,” she said, dusting off her hands. “I’ve been supporting Casey Muldrow since he was in first grade. He’s a super little kid, but I’m looking forward to something different.”

“If it’s ‘different’ you’re looking for, you’ve probably lucked out,” I said and smiled. “I usually do a good line in ‘different.’” Picking up a frieze, I let it drop to its full length. “I was thinking of putting this up over there between the windows. Do you want to give me a hand?”

That’s when I saw the child again. She was still on top of the same wall, but now there was a woman standing beneath her, talking up to her.

“That little girl has been on that wall for about four hours,” I said. “She was there when I arrived this morning.”

Julie looked out the window. “Oh yeah. That’s Venus Fox. And that’s her wall. She’s always there.”

“Why?”

Julie shrugged. “That’s just Venus’s wall.”

“How does she get up there. It must be six feet high.”

“The kid’s like Spiderman. She can get over anything.”

“Is that her mom with her?” I asked.

“No, it’s her sister. Wanda. Wanda’s developmentally delayed.”

“She looks old to be the girl’s sister,” I said.

Julie shrugged again. “Late teens. She might be twenty. She used to be in special ed. at the high school, but she got too old. Now she seems to spend most of her time trailing around after Venus.”

“And Venus spends most of her time sitting on a wall. This family sounds promising.”

Julie raised her eyebrow in a knowing way. “There’s nine of them. Nine kids. Most of them have different fathers. I think every single one has been in special ed. at one point or another.”

“Venus too?”

“Venus, definitely. Venus is way out to lunch.” Julie gave a little grin. “As you’ll get to find out for yourself soon enough. She’s going to be in here.”

“‘Way out to lunch’ how?” I asked.

“For one thing, she doesn’t talk.”

I rolled my eyes. “Surprise, surprise there.” When Julie looked blank, I added, “Elective mutism is my research specialty. In fact, I got my start on it when Bob and I were working together in a different program.”

“Yeah, well, this kid’s mute all right.”

“She won’t be in here.”

“No, you don’t understand,” Julie replied. “Venus doesn’t talk. I mean, doesn’t talk . Doesn’t say zip. Anywhere. To anyone.”

“She will in here.”

Julie’s smile was good-humored but faintly mocking. “Pride goeth before a fall.”

As I ran my finger down the class list, I came to one I knew well. Billy Gomez. Aged nine, he was a small boy of Latino origin with an unruly thatch of black hair, a fondness for brightly colored shirts, and the grubbiest fingernails I’d ever seen on a kid. But while Billy was small, he was not puny. He had the sleek, sturdy musculature of a weasel and a fierce aggressiveness to match. Ruled by an explosive temper and a very bad mouth, he’d gotten kicked out of two previous schools. I’d worked extensively both with him and his teacher the year before, but I hadn’t been particularly successful. Billy still ranted, raved, and fought.

The other three boys I did not know. The fifth child, as Julie predicted, was Venus.

When I arrived the next morning, Venus was again up on her wall.

“Hello, Venus,” I said as I passed.

No response. She didn’t even turn her head in my direction.

I stopped and looked up. “Venus?”

There was not even the faintest muscle twitch to indicate she was aware of being spoken to.

“I’m your new teacher. Would you like to walk into the building with me?”

Her failure to respond was so complete that the first thing I thought was she must have a hearing loss. I made a mental note to check on what tests she had had. Waiting a few minutes longer, I finally gave up and went on into the school alone.

The first student to come into class was Billy. “Oh no ! Not you !” he cried and smacked the center of his forehead with his palm. Hard. He almost fell backward with the blow. “Oh no. No, no, no. I don’t want to be in here. I don’t want you .”

“Hi, Billy. I’m glad to see you too,” I said. “And guess what? You’re the first person here. So you get your pick of any table.”

“Then I pick the table in the cafeteria,” he said quickly and bolted for the door.

“Hey ho!” I snagged him by the collar. “Not literally any table. One in here.”

Billy slammed his things down on the nearest one. “I don’t want any of these tables,” he said gloomily. “I just want to get the fuck out of here.”

I put a finger to my lips. “Not in here, okay? You’re the oldest in here, so I need you to set a good example of how to talk. Do you think you can watch your tongue for me?”

Billy put his fingers into his mouth and grabbed hold of his tongue. “I’ll try,” he garbled around his fingers, “but I don’t think I can pull it out far enough for me to watch.”

“Billy, not literally.”

Billy laughed hysterically. So much so, in fact, he fell off his chair.

Just then Bob appeared, shepherding in two little boys with the most startlingly red hair I’d ever seen. It was red . Bright, copper penny red, worn in a floppy style over small, pointed faces that were generously splattered with raindrop-size freckles.

“This is Shane,” Bob said, putting a hand a little more firmly on the boy to his right. “And this is Zane.”

Shane and Zane? God, why did parents do this to their kids?

They were identical twins, dressed in what I can only describe as ventriloquist’s dummy style: polyester pants, striped shirts, and, quite incredibly, bow ties.

Billy was as amazed by their appearance as I was. “Are they Dalmatians?” he asked incredulously.

Before I could respond a heavyset African – American woman wearing a bright, flowery dress appeared and pushed forward a slender, almost lanky-looking boy. “This here’s Jesse,” she said, keeping both hands on the boy’s thin shoulders. “This here’s Jesse’s classroom?”

Bob stepped aside, and the woman propelled the boy into the room. “You be good for Grandma. You be special for this here lady and Grandma’ll hear all the good things you done today.” She kissed him soundly on the side of the head. The boy flinched. Then she departed out the door.

“Here,” I said. “Do you want to take a chair here?”

The boy tossed his belongings down with an angry-sounding thud.

“Oh no, you don’t. Not here. You’re not sitting here,” Billy cried. “No ugly black kid’s going to sit here, because I’m sitting here. Teacher, you put him someplace else.”

“You want to fight about it?” Jesse replied, making a fist.

The boys lunged at each other right over the tabletop and went crashing to the floor. I leaped in, grabbing Billy by the collar and pushing Jesse aside.