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was like the richer they got, the more boring Felicity became. She stopped being funny and got all serious, all mature and sensible and perfect. It was in high school that Nadia and I started secretly calling her Flawless, and it was so right it just stuck.
    These days it’s like all she cares about, other than the boys, is her perfect house and going to the gym and getting her hair done and agreeing with Mum.
    I pick up my bag again. It feels heavier than before. I let myself in and head to the lounge room.
    Harry and Oscar have used their unsupervised playtime excellently. Their faces are both covered in black texta.Harry is just about to add some more art to Oscar’s nose when he sees me.
    â€˜Hello,’ he signs, lifting his hand and my spirits. His smile is missing two front teeth.
    Oscar lies back on the carpet like an upturned bug. It’s my signal to tickle. So I kneel next to him and go for it. I wish I could hear him laugh. He’s three now. He was only one when I went deaf. His laugh has probably changed. But I do see how his eyes squint as his chubby cheeks take over his face.
    His little legs are cycling in the air, and I turn to avoid getting a knee in the face. Felicity is standing in the doorway.I don’t know how long she’s been there. She is wearing a pink Ralph Lauren polo, collar upturned, and perfectly white jeans.
    â€˜Harry! Oscar! Bathroom!’ She wouldn’t be yelling; that would look like she’d lost control. But she quickly gets hold of Harry’s hand and then pulls Oscar out of his dead-bug position, ready for the drag to the bathroom.
    â€˜Hi, Demi,’ she says, as the boys squirm on either side of her. ‘I can’t wait to hear about your day.’
    I lean against the couch. Flawless exits and Mum enters.
    They should have a baton.
    â€˜Long day?’ Mum asks in sign, and the fact that she doesn’t say it too, like she would normally, is a warning to me.
    It’s designed to remind me that she is pretty good at sign language – that we have already made adjustments in our house to cope with my deafness. So this new adjustment, this new school, is unnecessary.
    She’s wearing her concerned look. It says, ‘don’t worry, we will be here for you when you change your mind and make the right decision’ more clearly than any sign could.
    â€˜No, it wasn’t a long day. It was good,’ I say. I don’t sign it at all.
    If there’s a kind of scoring system going on with her signing and me voicing then I think we’re about even.
    â€˜Great,’ Mum signs. ‘Tell us at dinner.’
    It feels like a threat.

    Felicity sits with a straight back. Her gym-toned arm reaches for the salt and moves it out of Harry’s reach. Mum nods her approval.
    â€˜Jim?’ Mum says, frowning.
    Dad is eating with his left hand and writing in his notepad with his right.
    â€˜Where’s Ryan?’ I ask with my voice.
    Dad sneaks me a wink. He and I do this for each other.We change the subject if Mum’s about to go into nag mode.
    Felicity places her hands on the table. Her fingers are splayed, showing off the white tips of her French manicure like they’re some kind of achievement.
    I fold my hands, hiding my short, bitten nails under the table.
    â€˜Ryan’s working on a …’ Felicity turns sideways towards Mum so I don’t catch the rest of the sentence. She does that quite often, even though she says she understands how important it is not to. I can generally fill in the gaps though.Most likely, he’s working on a case.
    â€˜So Demi, how was it?’ Felicity asks, turning to face me again. Even though it’s easy to lip-read her now, she adds some signing for effect.
    â€˜Yes Demi, how was it?’ Mum says, like an echo.
    Mum reverts to her concerned look. I suspect she’s hoping it didn’t go so well and that I’ll have changed my mind.
    â€˜It was