Nico Has Never Learned Anything -- A Solangelo Story

Chapter 1- Will's P.O.V.

-Monday-

I know something is up with Nico, and I have for a while. So, today, I'm catching him in the act. We're lounging together on my bed right now, I'm trying to finish up paperwork and he's just... sleeping, or he was a little bit ago? I think he's awake now. I glance down at him, where his head is resting on my leg, but he's just watching me, his eyes wide open. Did he ever end up taking a nap like he said he was going to?

"...I thought you were asleep." I tell him.

"I am." He says.

"You're staring at me. That's not how sleeping works." I smile down at him past my papers.

"That's how I like to sleep, so I can keep an eye on any threats." He claims.

It's now or never. I'll catch him here and now.

"There's no threats here. Since you're awake, could you do something for me?"

"Maybe. Depends on if it involves getting up."

"It doesn't." I hold a file out to him. "Can you read that top line for me? My dyslexia is saying no."

"And you think mine will say yes?" He chuckles, taking it, "What even is this?"

"It's just someone's file. The first sentence isn't computing."

"Is it something I shouldn't see anyway then? Whose is this?"

"It's just for one of the Hephaestus kids who came in, it's nothing sensitive."

"..." He stares at it for a minute, "What? This line?" He points to the first sentence.

"Yes sir. If you could."

"...Ha-ruh-la... Harley."

"...Harley. Good start." I watch him closely. I'm 95% sure that after all the time we've spent together, he can only read what he can sound out.

"Dyslexia says no on these big words."

"All of them? I'm dyslexic too." I point out.

"The big words! Not the short ones. I can read in, a, on..."

The words you learn when you're little, then. Not any higher then that.

"Sight words? How far did you get in school before the Lotus Hotel?" I question, not wanting to force him.

"Before? I don't know, I don't remember just about anything from that until it comes up." He says, "I was in...fourth grade at Westover Hall." He doesn't sound confident about that either.

"Hmm. Have you ever been a strong reader?" I question him.

"I'm dyslexic, William."

"So am I! But I can read those if I use the right tricks." I explain. Granted, I know that I got lucky on the dyslexia front. It doesn't affect me as much as some The other kids at camp.

"...They never taught me any tricks."

"The right fonts, lighting, contrast? Can you sound this out?" I point to the word laceration.

He stares at it intensely. "La-k...era...tuh-..." He stops, laughing awkwardly, "Will, I don't know how to read, okay? They never taught me anything."

I knew it! At least I wasn't just making it up. There's been times that I've thought something was true, then built it way way up in my head, only for it to have been nothing.

I take the paper from him. "Why didn't you just say that the... millions of times you've been handed stuff?"

"I did. I said I can't read it and handed it back, every time. So you read it and we were fine." He claims.