Fear of Communication

    My biggest fear is talking. It might seem crazy, but talking doesn’t come easy for me. And it’s not just talking to new people, but all people, including my family. Crazy right?

My name is Stella Griffin, and I’m 13 years old. I love writing, which is very helpful because I’ve never said a word in my entire life. In fact, I don’t even know what my own voice sounds like. I know it’s not normal, but I have a fear of talking. I’m very much capable of talking; I just choose not to. I’ve tried many times, but nothing comes out. I just stand there looking dumb, with my mouth hanging open, because I’m scared to say anything.

When I was growing up, my parents, James and Cassidy, thought something was wrong with me. They couldn’t understand why I wasn’t talking. At first, they thought I was late to start speaking, but as I got older, they were continually worried about it. Eventually, they took me in to get professional help. I was seen by many doctors and specialists, each one different from the last. But no matter the doctor or specialist, no one ever found anything wrong with me. My parents were still concerned about my speaking abilities, but they ended the endless doctor visits. Finally, they started to understand my problem after a conversation with my Grandma Rose.

“I just don’t understand,” my father burst out furiously.

“Calm down, sweetheart,” my grandma said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I just wish we could understand why Stella can’t talk,” my mother said.

“It’s not something we can control,” my grandmother said wisely. “All we can do is try to help her.”

Shrugging my grandmother’s hand off his shoulder, my dad huffed frustratedly, “Help her! That’s all we’ve done, yet she still can’t talk.”

“Oh, stop that,” scolded my grandmother. “I believe she’s fully capable of talking. She just chooses not to.”

When I heard my grandma’s comment, I could barely contain my excitement. My lips spread into a big, toothy smile with my crooked, white teeth shining.

Finally, someone who understands me.

I knew my grandmother had always been my biggest supporter, but I didn’t know she understood me to that extent.

Since then, my grandma has done everything she possibly could to teach me how to talk. She’s taught me the alphabet, how to write, how to type, and most importantly, how to give great advice. The more my grandma works with me, the more she believes I’ll talk someday.

Though I don’t talk, I love to write. Writing is how I communicate with other people. Sometimes, it’s hard to communicate because I have to write everything down, but most of the time, it’s not a problem, which is good because writing is my only means of communication. Well, until I met Avery.

Avery is a pretty girl with a tall and slender frame. She has thick, wavy, dark brown hair that falls around her waist. Her face looks like she could be a model with her cute button nose, light brown freckles, and curvy, beige-pink lips. But what stands out the most are her stunning turquoise eyes and her perfectly neat brown eyebrows.

Avery is my new neighbor. She and her family moved into the house next door, which is beautiful. It’s painted a very pretty pale blue, and inside is a gorgeous split level with stained oak floors. The backyard has a giant trampoline and a huge pool, surrounded by a short, white picket fence. I always thought that trampolines looked fun, but my parents had never let me play on one, swim, or do any other ‘dangerous’ activities. I’ve seen Avery play on the trampoline a few times, and I thought about asking to join–well, I guess writing. Though I never did. I didn’t want to come across as weird or awkward.

Besides, she probably doesn’t want to hang out with me anyway. She’s probably super popular at school and has already made a ton of cool friends to hang out with. I wouldn’t know because I’m homeschooled due to my talking difficulties. I’ve been homeschooled my whole life but it doesn’t bother me much. Sometimes I wish I had other kids to be around, but I wouldn’t talk to them anyway, so what’s the point?

Avery and I first met on the week of my birthday. I was on my way to the bakery to pick up my birthday cake when I received a text from my mom, reminding me to stop and pick up my cake before the bakery closed. While I was responding to her text, I accidentally collided with someone. I took a step back and whimpered in pain. Holding my hand on my forehead, I looked up, and Avery stood before me.

“Oh my gosh,” I spluttered, apologetically. “I’m so sorry!” After realizing what just happened, I cupped my hand over my mouth in complete shock.

I. Just. Talked. For the first time in my life!

“Are you okay?” worried Avery. I nodded in response. “I should have been watching where I’m going. I feel terrible,” she blurted out.

“Me too,” I mumbled. “It’s not all your fault. I shouldn’t have been walking and texting at the same time.”

I can talk now! I’m glad it wasn’t just a one-time thing.

Avery smiled at this. “Hey, you live next door to me, right?”

“Umm, y- yes, I do,” I stuttered.

OMG! I can’t believe Avery is actually talking to me!

“I’m Avery.”

“I’m Stella.”

“Nice to meet you,” Avery beamed.

“You too!” I said, astonished.

Here goes nothing.

“I um, have a birthday party on Friday,” I hesitated. “You’re welcome to come, if you’re not busy, of course.” I bit my lip nervously, waiting for her response.

“That sounds like fun!” she chirped. “I’ll double-check with my parents, but I don’t have any plans.”

YES!

“Okay, I’ll send you an invitation!” I grinned. Inside, I was bursting with happiness.

“Sounds good, see you Friday!” said Avery gleefully, as she started walking away.

“Bye,” I called after her.

“Bye.”

I can’t believe this! This is the best day ever! Avery is coming to my party, and I just talked for the first time! I can’t wait to tell my parents. Actually tell them!

Happily, I skipped the rest of the way to the bakery. My run-in with Avery set me back slightly, so I skipped as fast as possible. I arrived just in time and I collected my cake. Before I left, I double-checked it was the right one and paid for it.

This year I chose a two-tiered chocolate cake with strawberry frosting and sliced strawberries shaped like roses to go on top. It was challenging not to taste the frosting, but I ignored my temptation by singing on my way home. I knew quite a few songs, but I still had to get used to hearing my voice and how it should sound to portray my emotions.

When I got home, my parents were sitting around the kitchen table, discussing my party plans.

“Hi, sweetheart!” my parents chorused, as I walked through the front door.

“Hi!”

Both of my parents’ jaws dropped.

“D-Did y-you just…” started my father.

“Yes,” I interrupted.

“When?” he asked.

“Today,” I responded.

“Come and tell us everything,” my mother said gleefully, patting the chair next to her. Delighted, I joined my parents at the table and told them about my day from start to finish.

“And then… I invited her to my birthday party!” I finished. “She said she would have to check with her parents first, but she could come.”

“That’s great news, honey!” my father exclaimed.

“So, I’ll need another invitation for Avery then,” I announced.

“Of course, sweetie,” my mother nodded. “I can take care of that.”

“Thanks, Mom!” I said.

On Friday, I woke up to the wonderful smell of pancakes; not just any pancakes, banana chocolate chip pancakes, my favorite! Hurriedly, I threw on my slippers and rushed downstairs for some delicious pancakes.

“Morning, birthday girl,” my father said.

“Morning,” I replied.

Man, it feels weird telling my parents good morning.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mother called from the kitchen.

I entered the kitchen and responded, “Hi.”

“I made you pancakes,” she declared. “Banana chocolate chip, your favorite.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I already knew; I could smell them from upstairs.”

“Of course you could,” my mom chuckled. I took a seat at the kitchen table while she loaded three pancakes onto my plate and handed me the syrup.

After an amazing birthday breakfast, we started to prepare for my party. I was a bit nervous to talk to all these people for the first time, but my nerves eventually calmed down after I busied myself with party preparations. My parents and I worked all day to set up for the party. There was lots to do. We needed to clean the house, set up decorations, prepare food and drinks, set up our brand-new trampoline, blow up the balloons and bounce house, and get dressed for the party.

Finally, we finished at two o’clock, an hour before the party started. We cleaned up the last of the decoration wrappers and headed upstairs to change. I was wearing my brand-new silver and magenta cocktail dress. The top was a sparkly silver V-neck and the skirt was knee-length and colored a very shiny magenta. I put it on carefully and went to the bathroom to curl my hair. Fifteen minutes later, after I had finished my hair and a tiny bit of makeup, I grabbed my silver ballet flats from my room and headed downstairs.

“Wow, you look great,” my mother complimented me.

“Thanks,” I grinned. “You too!”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” I called. Slipping on my shoes, I opened the door. It was Avery.

“Happy birthday!” she beamed.

“Thanks, come on in,” I said. She stepped inside and stared in awe.

“Wow, it looks great in here,” she sighed.

The night continued like this; I answered the door and greeted people, and each one had something to say about the decorations or party. I talked as little as possible. It felt odd to talk to all these people. I only talked to my parents and Avery. For some reason, it was so easy to talk to her. I spent practically every second with Avery. We ate together, played games together, sat together, and of course, we talked to each other. That was the best day of my life! It all ended with me and Avery lying on the trampoline, staring up at the stars.

Avery and I have been best friends ever since. We are hardly ever apart and spend a lot of time doing things together. I don’t know what I would do without her. Heck, I wouldn’t even be talking right now if I hadn’t met her.