No Talking: Chapters 8–13

Over one hundred twenty-five children milling around the lunchroom, and not a peep from any of them.

And she could hear the children's feet on the tile floor, shuffling along through the lines.

Or maybe some strange creature had nipped off all their tongues—nothing left but little stubs that couldn’t make a sound.

She tried to look as casual as possible, tried to act like it was perfectly normal for the lunchroom to be stone silent except for the clattering of plates and the squeaking of sneakers on the waxed floor.

Because this new activity was happening at her school, and no one had asked for her permission. This new activity was unauthorized.

But Mrs. Hiatt was a keen observer, and in that sudden stillness she noticed something.

But Mrs. Marlow didn’t have a moment to spare.

These were not the kind of screams that make grown-ups come running. They were just an ugly assortment of squeals and yelps and shrieks that everyone else found very annoying.

“Please get out your homework sheets.” There was a lot of rustling and bustling as the students obeyed.

“‘Four hundred forty’ what?” prompted Mrs. Marlow.

The next thirty-four minutes in the science room passed in complete silence, except for the rustle of paper and an occasional cough or sniffle.

Because when the bell rang, she had to hurry out her door and try to maintain law and order in the hallway between classes.

And, of course, my preliminary findings could be wrong. I should certainly gather more data before I present my theory to the scholarly community.

She was singing a solo, and her high, quivering voice made the kids giggle.

Dodgeball, which can be pretty serious anyway, seemed especially grim without the talking and shouting.

There were the usual grunts of effort and screams of terror, and when three or four kids with red dodgeballs would silently go hunting for one player on the other team, it was sort of like watching a pack of wolves go after a lone caribou: A motion of the leader's head, a movement toward the prey, and then, Whack! Whack! WHOMP!—dead meat.

From the gym teacher’s point of view, dodgeball was all about improving reflexes and getting a good large-motor-skills workout, and to accomplish those goals without any of the taunting and teasing and name-calling? That was just fine by her.

Emily used block letters for emphasis. “ALL SNIFFY AND SNOOFY AND OUCHY—I HATE THAT.”

um also umm ([ǝ]m)
interjection. Used to express doubt or uncertainty or to fill a pause when hesitating in speaking.

Dave felt like he’d lost that skirmish.