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“Let’s head out. We’ve got practice in the morning.”
“Fuck you,” I groan lazily. “And fuck her.”
“No thanks. You’re not my type,” he quips back. “Get up. We’re going home, where you can sleep off your drunken stupidity and stop being a dick to your friends.” Standing, he jerks his chin toward the door. “You’ll thank me tomorrow.”
Not wanting to listen to him any longer, I quickly push myself up and storm past him. Not missing a chance to shoulder-check him on the way. He might be my best friend, but in this moment…I hate his guts.
And that’s why I’d never trust myself to be in a relationship. Because, sometimes, the darkness outweighs whatever good is inside of me.
20
Brody
Ilooked out the window. All the kids in my class were playing outside. Meanwhile, I was stuck in here.
“Brody, are you going to tell me what happened to your face?” the teacher said, kneeling down to be eye-level with me. “Or your arms?”
My heart raced. I couldn’t tell her the truth. If I did, my punishment would be way worse than this. So, I knew I had to lie. Like I always did.
“I was climbing a tree and fell.” I shrugged. “I’m clumsy.”
Her eyes stayed on mine, narrowing slightly. “Mmhmm. Well, that’s, like, the third time this month that you’ve come in, looking like…” She paused, looking at the door to make sure no one was coming in. Tears filled her eyes. “Brody, you can tell me if someone is hurting you.” She whispered the words so kindly, and I knew she meant well. “I will protect you, I promise.”
Miss Heather was sweet. She didn’t even look old enough to be a teacher. Her honey-colored hair and matching eyes really did make me feel safe. But I had been down this road before. And guess how it’d ended. With me going back home to my father, getting my ass beat.
My ribs were sore. And I knew they likely hadn’t healed right after the last few times he got too drunk and my existence irked him. I didn’t want to bother him. That was why I tried to be good. To do okay in school. But the truth was, missing so much school throughout the years had put me behind. And reading was really fucking hard.
I grinned that same grin the teachers were used to seeing. The one that told people I was fine. Well, that was, unless I was in a fistfight with someone. Then, the smiling was over.
“Aw-shucks, Miss Heather. You don’t need to worry about me. I told ya, I’m clumsy as hell.”
“Don’t say hell, Brody. Fourth graders aren’t supposed to swear,” she whispered before running her hand across my forehead. “I can help you. You’ve just got to let me.”
Her hand on my skin felt like a million prickles. Because aside from my grandmother, no one had ever touched me. Well, my dad would, but his touches were painful. Mom was long gone, not that I could blame her. And Gram did what she could, but she wasn’t exactly the nurturing type either.
“You might not know this, but it’s not supposed to be this way,” she said softly. “But I promise you, it’s going to get better. You have a whole other life out there, just waiting for you.”
She swallowed back her emotions once the recess bell rang, ending playground time for the other kids. I was in here because during every free moment in this place, I needed extra reading help to get me back on track with the other kids. I wasn’t smart enough to read what they read. Though, for some reason, the teachers kept letting me skate through. Thank God.
“I’m fine, Miss Heather,” I said, patting her shoulder. “Really.”
Sighing, she nodded slowly before her face lit up. “Hey, I got something for you. Something I want you to try when you’re reading next time, okay?”
I watched as she went to her desk and pulled out some sheets of clear-colored plastic. One purple, one blue, one green, and one red.
“What are those?” I frowned. “How the heck do those help with reading?”
Smiling, she tilted her head to the side. “I think your reading trouble is because you might see things a little differently than other kids might. Maybe things…move around a bit for you? Or look bunched together?” When I stared at her, confused, she patted the top of my head. “This is just something we are going to try, okay? It wouldn’t be fair if you were expected to read how everyone else does if your brain processes things differently.”
“So, I’m stupid?” I muttered, knowing my dad was right.
“No, silly!” she said quickly. “I think you might be dyslexic. And guess what. There are so many successful, rich, wise, dyslexic people in this world.”
“Oh, yeah?” I narrowed my eyes, unconvinced. “Like who?”
“Tom Cruise, Albert Einstein, Jennifer Aniston, Whoopi Goldberg, Thomas Edison, Walt Disney…just to name a few. I could go on all day.” Hearing the other students coming down the hall, she gave me another reassuring smile. “And one day, who knows? Maybe when I google famous dyslexic people, your name will be on that list too. This isn’t a bad thing. Not at all. And now that we know this is a possibility, we can help more.” She looked pained. “The thing is, the paper I sent home for your dad to sign last week? That was for the testing for it. That way, we can get a much deeper look into where your strengths and weaknesses lie.” Her eyebrows pulled together. “Did your daddy sign it, Brody?” She asked like she already knew the answer.
And just as the kids rushed in, I looked at her. “No. S-sorry, Miss Heather. I…I forgot to have him sign it.”
