Jessi's Secret Language by Ann M. Martin

“They’re making up their own. I don’t believe it.”
    â€œYou’re sure it’s not the real thing?” said Dawn.
    â€œYou really think there’s a sign in that dictionary of Jessi’s for banana-brain ?”
    â€œNo,” replied Dawn, giggling.
    â€œWe’ll have to invite Haley and Matt over again,” said Mallory carefully. “If my brothersand sisters like secret languages so much, then they ought to be able to learn the real thing.”
    â€œAnd if they did learn it,” said Dawn slowly, catching on, “Matt could communicate with the kids in the neighborhood — with kids who can hear.”
    When Mallory told me this the next day, my heart leaped. It was more than I’d hoped for. It was like getting the part of Swanilda when I wasn’t even sure I could be one of the townspeople.
    The Pikes’ secret language meant that they were going to accept Matt. I was sure of it. It meant that they wanted to communicate with him. I thought it might even mean that they would want to learn actual American Sign Language.
    And it meant one more thing — that the kids would probably get to know and like Haley, just for herself.
    I couldn’t wait until Haley realized that.

Rehearsal.
    My bones ached. My muscles ached. Each and every one of my toes ached.
    Being Swanilda was not easy.
    It was four o’clock on a Saturday afternoon, and the cast of Coppélia had been rehearsing for hours.
    â€œWe want per-fec-see-yun,” said Madame Noelle crisply. “Per- fec -see-yun.” She banged her club on the floor. “Nothing less. Mademoiselle Parsons,” (that was Katie Beth), “you must turn the head faster and start the turn a little later. Just a froction of a second, non ? Mademoiselle Bramstedt,” (that was Mary, one of the townspeople), “higher on the toes. This is a toe-doncing, en pointe production. Please to remember. Mademoiselle Romsey, excellent work.”
    I closed my eyes with relief. Thank goodness. That was all she’d said to me that day. Of course,I’d been working extra hard — practicing longer hours at home and putting every ounce of me into my dancing.
    The other cast members glanced at me approvingly. I was glad. I needed their approval. I wanted to show them that I could be a good Swanilda even if I was young and new at the school.
    â€œOkay, closs. Our time is ended,” said Madame. “This was a good rehearsal. Go change now. I will see you in your closses next week.”
    As I walked toward the dressing room, a hand touched my shoulder. I looked around. It was Katie Beth. She was with Hilary.
    â€œGood work,” said Katie Beth briskly.
    â€œYeah, good work,” agreed Hilary. “Nice job.”
    They linked arms and walked away.
    Not exactly friendly, but a whole lot better than the sarcastic comments they used to make. Katie Beth had almost smiled.
    In the changing room, I got dressed slowly. Daddy had said he’d be a little late picking me up. Even though it was Saturday, he was in his office in Stamford. He was working on a special project and had a big deadline coming up. That morning he’d told me that he’d pick me up at 4:30, after some important meeting.
    Although I changed my clothes slowly, I was dressed by 4:10. I walked into the lobby of the school to wait for my father. I sat on a bench and watched the other students stream past me, out the front door. When things quieted down, I noticed Katie Beth sitting on another bench, not far away.
    We smiled embarrassed smiles and looked at our hands.
    After a moment, I looked up again. Katie Beth wasn’t alone. Sitting next to her was a younger girl, about Haley’s age. She looked somewhat like Katie, or would have if she’d pulled her long hair back from her face, the way Katie’s was fixed.
    Were they sisters? If they were, why weren’t they talking? When Becca and I are together, we