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Silent Boy: He was a frightened boy who refused to speak – until a teacher's love broke through the silence
Torey Hayden
From the author of Sunday Times bestsellers One Child and Ghost Girl comes a heartbreaking story of a boy trapped in silence and the teacher who rescued him.When special education teacher Torey Hayden first met fifteen-year-old Kevin, he was barricaded under a table. Desperately afraid of the world around him, he hadn’t spoken a word in eight years. He was considered hopeless, incurable.But Hayden refused to believe it, though she realised it might well take a miracle to break through the walls he had built around himself. With unwavering devotion and gentle, patient love, she set out to free him – and slowly uncovered a shocking violent history and a terrible secret that an unfeeling bureaucracy had simply filed away and forgotten.Torey refused to give up on this tragic “lost case.” For a trapped and frightened boy desperately needed her help – and she knew in her heart she could not rest easy until she had rescued him from the darkness.
Torey Hayden
Silent Boy
He was a frightened boy who
refused to speak – until a teacher’s
love broke through the silence
Dedication (#ulink_423a733b-f100-5ac8-a8c3-362bc4688588)
To S. K.
for teaching me to cherish the
brutal privilege of being human
Contents
Cover (#u411bcca8-f510-5900-bfe5-2602e3d8d4c9)
Title Page (#ue362d512-9cb5-54ab-885f-7039a6eed4f0)
Dedication
Part I (#ua654cd64-3616-54d5-9aac-b962c11596a4)
Chapter One (#ub59eb443-d696-5851-873c-5a3c35a3f0e4)
Chapter Two (#udb397178-c62b-5c12-928f-e872182ae5bc)
Chapter Three (#u84d22b9f-d615-5e50-992b-b6b0f3e936ac)
Chapter Four (#u94a8378a-25da-59c9-b186-3963451acb90)
Chapter Five (#ue18a1c34-2fa6-5690-a0f1-59195ebd2d6e)
Chapter Six (#uab375cb1-316b-59ee-8475-47082bf1f7a5)
Chapter Seven (#ubead2298-2e33-5023-878d-586efc434163)
Chapter Eight (#ue6db590e-b85f-5a72-a809-2c61c3b76e63)
Chapter Nine (#uedb79af5-ccb3-5281-b484-687ce68894b6)
Chapter Ten (#ue9ffbeaf-af4b-54d1-827f-2b22867fe358)
Chapter Eleven (#u8f6ce819-1c62-5cee-94d0-a4bf87e2daa1)
Chapter Twelve (#u5dede842-a4d8-56ad-981b-7c422a0b0c32)
Chapter Thirteen (#ue1b9033c-20e0-5270-ba65-ad324ecb8982)
Chapter Fourteen (#u2c36293f-5675-5e13-891f-fd738d7a06ff)
Chapter Fifteen (#u912bc78a-517e-5ccc-93eb-62564b695459)
Chapter Sixteen (#u71257356-8e2d-5017-bec5-04353ad13bce)
Chapter Seventeen (#uba09d472-d0c8-51d6-bb0d-da2229bfb04e)
Part II (#u832718d1-6bc6-5637-b7d5-e65b93c9905c)
Chapter Eighteen (#ua21dace1-017b-58b0-a029-b7e8ed5ff729)
Chapter Nineteen (#u264aed9c-cc1c-55f4-ae90-6d233947b6e7)
Chapter Twenty (#u3ba6f6b2-e385-576a-b445-9ca13393e53f)
Chapter Twenty–one (#u573caf40-7dc5-5f11-a623-b61d081a009e)
Chapter Twenty–two (#ue0fbb78f-1a4e-55fc-b251-a5d57e21f36e)
Chapter Twenty–three (#ud9ddfe32-1c8c-58f7-8228-dc02b1412366)
Chapter Twenty–four (#u5e6c0336-4b79-53c0-8e7e-461cabca3908)
Chapter Twenty–five (#ue79c78b5-0c14-51ee-a236-a2358314c188)
Chapter Twenty–six (#u46237248-da20-5d95-94cb-45d6c509c047)
Chapter Twenty–seven (#uda53163c-67de-5975-bf51-52d54f93726b)
Chapter Twenty–eight (#u22a35d69-334f-536e-8ebf-0b0485bfc408)
Chapter Twenty–nine (#u05124e8b-1edc-575a-bcfc-b6873f7d241a)
Chapter Thirty (#u7fbd152b-5d64-53c8-a3b6-2faeb850e993)
Chapter Thirty–one (#ue60dbbb9-3b4c-562c-ad6c-1b9e5eacd7e4)
Part III (#ubadb164b-87fc-5807-a633-f83f3176cf82)
Chapter Thirty–two (#ucb61f436-19dd-5fe5-ac7e-987ac2fa439d)
Chapter Thirty–three (#uaaff0c90-49d4-54be-afe1-9abe8d04f450)
Chapter Thirty–four (#u7645412c-b487-55b0-a77f-eb4aa0414ca2)
Chapter Thirty–five (#u25c07db4-5f53-56ca-8a8a-1be1a0e26d68)
Chapter Thirty–six (#u3b79a0ae-1300-559d-a6d7-929831b6c7f9)
Chapter Thirty–seven (#udb7a61e1-b52e-58d8-b1ff-a14b84b9165e)
Chapter Thirty–eight (#u080c5d1a-5712-55b6-ad84-219f228456c8)
Exclusive sample chapter (#u8e61ea4c-47bd-54fb-8ba4-18098eab8a09)
About the Author (#ufab369c8-2a1b-5be0-bf19-33d4a7f29603)
Torey Hayden (#u5bc61e55-5c78-5190-b2f3-9837774da1d9)
Copyright (#ubb95853c-9126-5a43-90a3-b3ec9e951f97)
About the Publisher (#u7d202064-fdab-5871-88e6-a9332b74e8ff)
Part I (#ulink_08e72145-8003-592a-ab8c-489d16e5a9b8)
Chapter One (#ulink_f20bb437-8b1f-5792-b318-b050bc989405)
Zoo-boy. The legs of the table were his cage. With arms up protectively over his head, he rocked. Back and forth, back and forth. An aide tried to prod him into moving out from under the table but she had no luck. Back and forth, back and forth the boy rocked.
I watched from behind the one-way mirror. ‘How old is he?’ I asked the woman on my right.
‘Fifteen.’
Hardly a boy anymore. I leaned close to the glass to see him. ‘How long has he been here?’ I asked.
‘Four years.’
‘Without ever speaking?’
‘Without ever speaking.’ She looked over at me in the eerie gloom of the room behind the mirror. ‘Without ever making a noise at all.’
I continued to watch a little longer. Then I picked up my box of materials and went out into the room on the other side of the mirror. The aide backed off and, when I entered, she willingly left. I could hear the click of a door in the outer corridor and I knew she had gone behind the mirror to watch too. Only Zoo-boy and I were left in the room.
Carefully, I set down my box of materials. I waited a moment to see if he would react to a new person in the room, but he didn’t. So I came closer. I sat down on the floor an arm’s length away from where he had barricaded himself under the table. Still he rocked, his arms and legs curled up around him. I could get no idea of his stature.
‘Kevin?’
No response.
Not sure what to do, I looked around. I was acutely aware of the audience beyond the mirror. They were talking in there, their voices indistinct, no more than an undulating murmur, like wind through cattails on a summer’s afternoon. But I knew the sound for what it was.
The boy didn’t look fifteen. Even wrapped up in a ball like that where I couldn’t get much of a look at him, he didn’t appear that old. Nine, maybe. Or eleven. Not nearly sixteen.
‘Kevin,’ I said again, ‘my name is Torey. Do you remember Miss Wendolowski telling you someone was coming out to work with you? That’s me. I’m Torey and I work with people who have a hard time talking.’
Still he rocked. I wasn’t given even the slightest acknowledgment. All around us hung a heavy, cloying silence embroidered with the rhythmic sound of his body hitting against the linoleum.
I started to talk to him, keeping my voice soft and welcoming, the way one talks to timid puppies. I talked of why I had come, of what I was going to be doing with him, of other children whom I had worked with and had success. I told him about myself. What I said wasn’t important, only the tone was.
No response. He only rocked.
The minutes slipped away. I was running dry of things to say. Such a one-sided conversation was not easy to maintain, but what made it more difficult was not Zoo-boy so much as the ghostly presence of those beyond the mirror. It was too easy to feel stupid talking to oneself when half a dozen people one couldn’t see were watching. Finally, I pulled over my box of materials and sorted out a paperback book, a mystery story about a teenager and his girl friend. I’ll read to you, I told Zoo-boy, until we feel a little more relaxed with one another.
‘Chapter One:The Long Road.’
I read.
And read.
The minutes kept moving around the face of the clock. Occasionally there was the muffled noise of a door opening and closing beyond our little room. They were leaving, one by one. Nothing in here was worth wasting an afternoon to see. I was not a spectacular reader. The story wasn’t riveting. And Zoo-boy only rocked.
I kept on reading. And counting the openings and closings. How many people had been in the room behind the mirror? I couldn’t recall exactly. Six? Or was it seven? And how many had gone out already? Five?
I read on.
Click-click. Another gone.
Click-click. That was seven.
I continued to read. My voice became the only sound in the room. I looked over. Zoo-boy had stopped rocking. Slowly he brought his arms down to see me better. He smiled. He was nobody’s fool. He had been counting too.
He gestured at me, a small movement within the confines of the table and chairs.
‘What?’ I asked, because I couldn’t understand what he was trying to communicate.
He gestured again, more widely this time. Only it wasn’t just a simple motion. Rather, it was a sentence, a paragraph almost, of gestures.
I still couldn’t understand. I moved a chair aside to see him better but I had to ask him to repeat it.
There was something he wanted me to know. The motions were poetic in their gyrating, wreathing urgency. A hand ballet. But they were no sign language I understood, not Ameslan, not the hand alphabet. I couldn’t comprehend at all.
From under the table came a deep sigh. He grimaced at me. Then patiently he repeated his gestures again, more slowly this time, more emphatically, like someone speaking to a rather stupid child. He became frustrated when he could not make me understand.
Finally, he gave up. We sat in silence, staring at one another. The book was still in my hands, so in desperation to fill the time, I asked him if he’d like me to read a little more. Zoo-boy nodded.
I settled back against the wall. ‘Chapter Five: Out of the Cave.’
Zoo-boy pushed the other chair slightly out from the table and reached to touch the cloth of my jeans. I looked up.
He had his mouth open, one hand pulling the lower jaw down. He pointed down his throat. Then dismally, he shook his head.
