Free The Color of Silence by Liane Shaw Page B

attention. “There’s an assembly this morning at ten o’clock. The drama club is going to let us see their dress rehearsal of The Wizard of Oz .”
    Everyone is suddenly fluttering with excitement. The kids in my class who are able to talk are chattering away, asking the other kids who can talk if they have seen the movie before and wondering who is playing Dorothy and will it be someone we know. Those of us who can’t talk are actually fluttering—hands and sometimes feet waving in the air, joining the conversation.
    By the time nine thirty arrives, excitement has completely overwhelmed us, filling us up until there isn’t room for anything else inside. We start heading to the cafetorium at nine forty.
    We’re always the first ones in and the last out. It takes a while to organize our strange little group. Wheelchairs have to be positioned just right so that everyone can see and nobody’s view gets blocked. A couple of the kids in my class can’t sit through a whole play. Their bodies are so wired up with the need to move all of the time that the switch can’t be turned off for more than a few minutes at a time. They sit at the back near an exit so that staff can take them out for breaks from time to time. One of the girls in our class can’t sit up at all. Her bones are so delicate and fragile that they would shatter with the pressure, so she lies on a gurney all day. I’ve heard people call her the Gurney Girl, which really bothers me. She has a name. It’s Susan. She’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.
    â€œHey! Joanie! This is cool, isn’t it?” Debbie’s voice comes at me from my left side. She isn’t in my class, so I don’t usually see her at school, but during assemblies she has to be near the front like me. “Remember the time we watched The Wizard of Oz ? I wonder if the play will be the same as the movie. What I really wonder is who’s going to be Dorothy. I love Dorothy.
I would love to be Dorothy. I should have auditioned—except that I sound like a sick cow when I sing.”
    â€œDebbie! Hush.” The voice comes from Debbie’s educational assistant, who helps her go to regular classes, where she gets in trouble for talking too much all of the time. Or so she tells me.
    Our principal, Ms. Dalgity, comes to the front of the room and raises her hand like a queen. All of her subjects instantly quiet down. Even Debbie. I am always amazed by this. There are hundreds of students in our school, and most of them talk loudly and constantly when we are at an assembly, even though their teachers keep on saying “shhh.” I’ve noticed that shhh is not a very effective word. It mostly sounds like the teacher has sprung a leak, and it doesn’t seem to have much effect on the students. Ms. Dalgity doesn’t say anything though. She just holds up that magic hand, in which I always pretend she is holding an imaginary scepter, and all of the chattering just stops.
I don’t know what her special power is, but she must feel very much in command, standing there with so many people quietly waiting to hear what she has to say.
    â€œGood morning, everyone. We have a very special treat today. Our senior drama club is here to present their final dress rehearsal of The Wizard of Oz . I know you will all enjoy this very much and will demonstrate your respect and appreciation appropriately.”
    I wonder how she knows that?
    The play begins, and I am instantly caught up in the story. Dorothy’s voice soars out over the audience and I swear I can see a rainbow forming over her head. All of the actors do a terrific job of creating their characters, and it feels like the movie has jumped off the screen and into our school. At least it feels that way to me.
    Best of all is the scarecrow, flopping around up there without a brain. He’s the best scarecrow I’ve ever seen, even better than the