without a voice » cth + afi ✓

prologue

calum

"Alright, guys, you are free to go."

As soon as those words left the professor's lips, I was on my way out of the crowded room. Students of all shapes and sizes swarmed around me, all going in different directions. It was hard without my will to speak; I couldn't let my presence be known. And I was short compared to some of my peers. I was amazed by how tall Luke Hemmings was - he was training to become a professional basketball player. Although, I have heard him singing in the locker room during our work out sessions, and I'd say he would be a great singer.

Maybe I should convince him one day to join music with me. I wish I could. I don't talk to anybody I can't trust, and right now he's on that list along with most everybody in the world. I can't trust him because what if he makes fun of me for my voice? I'm jealous of him and how he has the freedom to sing without being judged, while I have opposite outcomes.

I never want to sing again, nor do I want to speak. I always get bullied.

I maneuvered down the long corridors, some students I recognized following the same hall to our favorite class of the day. I smiled half-heartedly as I read the room name upon walking passed the threshold.

Music.

"Good afternoon, students," our music teacher greeted us as we entered his lair. A lot of the teenagers said something nice back, but I stayed silent. Like I always do. Everyday. And I stay silent even when Mr. Clifford confronts me personally, offering me my own greeting separate from the others.

"Still not confident enough, Mr. Hood?" He asked, looking at me with wise, dark green eyes. I simply shook my head, playing with the short sleeve of my t-shirt.

"I'll be waiting for that day to come, it will be extraodinary," Mr. Clifford sing-songed, a gentle smile on his face as he chuckled. I smiled, just to let him know I was listening and appreciating his words.

But I don't think he'd ever come to that day, because I won't let it happen.

Mr. Clifford gave me a few assuring pats on the back paired with a nod of his head before retreating to his favorite place in the classroom, where he proceeds to speak to the whole class.

"As I said when you were just getting here, 'good afternoon, students,'" Mr. Clifford said, always quoting himself at the beginning of the lesson. He also waved at each us, and just so that I didn't look bored out of my mind - which I wasn't feeling, probably just looking from my lack of rest lately - I waved back when he got to me. A pleasant smile found its way to his lips at that, but then he continued to speak, "I'm not going to trail this on forever, so I'll just say it now: We have a new student joining this college today. 'What does that have to do anything with this class?' you ask. Well, he's a very talented drummer and he'll be joining this class the rest of his college years, just like you."

A new person? A drummer? This sounds interesting, but I'm nervous. What if he's just like everyone else? What if he barely notices I exist? That should be a good thing for me, but as the days go by I'm feeling more and more invisible to everyone's eyes. I even think Mr. Clifford is giving up on me. I hope at least someone notices I'm here. But I still won't talk to him, especially if he turns out to be a bully.

I just have to hope that won't be the case. I wouldn't be able to take it anymore.

I was yanked from my thoughts as loud chatting suddenly overflowed into my ears. Everyone was gossiping about this new drummer guy, especially the girls. Mr. Clifford seemed to be delighted watching everyone discuss someone new, and just then the door to the classroom opened.

"Ah, Mr. Irwin, I'm glad you found it," Mr. Clifford quickly shuffled over to the newcomer, shaking his hand. Because of my short frame - I was average height, but everyone seemed to be taller - I couldn't really see anything as basically everyone in the room was now standing up. But I managed to catch glimpses of what was happening.

I was able to see this so-called drummer with a last name of Irwin, and can I just say, right now, that he was absolutely stunning? I've never thought that before about anyone, but this Irwin guy, he was really something.

I let out a soundless gasp. I couldn't really help it, so I stared at him to take him in and process the moment. He had beautiful, caramel-colored curls atop his head, and wore dark clothing of what looked like a band shirt and black skinny jeans. I wasn't close enough to see the color of his eyes, but maybe I would discover that later. His feet were clad with black Converse of which matched the rest of his appearance.

While all of what I just described was swallowed by the shade of black and familiar rock bands, I noticed the bright smile on his face that allowed dimples to plunge deep into his cheeks.

Nobody could hear my thoughts, so I was safe and sound to think anything I wanted without having to speak my mind. And I thought this guy was absolutely breath-taking.

"Ashton, how about you go around and meet some of the people you'll be working with and introduce yourself?" Mr. Clifford's voice echoed in my brain, but I only caught the first word.

Ashton.

"Okay," Ashton replied simply, letting out a sound that was so adorable I thought I might faint. Was that a giggle I just had the pleasure of hearing? I think it was.

I stayed back as Ashton did his rounds, exchanging a few words with a classmate before moving on to the next. I didn't think he would even get close to approaching me, but suddenly he was standing right in front of me. He had snuck up on me while I was distracted with my anxious thoughts.

"Hi," his voice radiated friendliness, but I didn't reply. I just looked at him, my hands shaking slightly. I did get to see the color of his eyes, and they were a gorgeous hazel color. Another part of him to add the list of things that made him so stunning. "You must be Calum."

What did he just say? At that moment, Ashton had stepped over the line, meaning he was added to the list of people I couldn't trust. He was going to be written on that list at some point, but this was going too far. Knowing my name? Without my knowledge of it? I may be over-exaggerating, but I'm a very paranoid person. These types of things get to me in ways nothing else can.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, swallowing down the small amount of confidence I had conjured up from before. I was getting antsy and I didn't like it. I wanted to leave. This was too awkward for me. Ashton, however, didn't seem one bit fazed by our one-sided conversation, like he knew what would happen if he confronted me.

"I know you don't like to speak, but I promise you that I'll help you open up. I don't want to push you are anything, I just want to be a friend you can count on," Ashton explained, his hazel eyes shining with reassurance and his voice filled with warmth. But it didn't fool me. I've seen this before.

I reached for the notepad and pen on the empty chair next to me. Ashton had taken a step back, which I appreciated, and was most likely waiting for my response.

I wrote, "How do you know my name?"

I showed Ashton my question and he nodded, pointing to Mr. Clifford. My brain clicked in understanding, and I rolled my eyes at myself. I hated being controlled by my paranoia. I nodded slowly, my grip on the pen in my hand tightening and then softening repeatedly. Do I trust him? Do I let him in to help as he says he will?

What do I do?

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i didn't put an author's not here.
well now i will because I edited this sucker and will be editing the rest of the book so yay (july 7th, happy bday ash!)