Mismatch |Book 1|

One.

Reina

"John-"

"No! I will not sit here and let you tell me that our child is...slow. My baby girl is not slow." My father said to my mother.

The five year old me stood in the hallway, peeking through the cracked door. I was suppose to be in bed, but I couldn't with my father's yelling.

My mom let out a tiresome sigh, "Johnathan, she's not slow."

"Tabitha, what did the doctor's tell you? The girl is slow! What the hell am I going to do with a slow child?"

"Would you stop calling her that Johnathan!"

I didn't understand what was going on so I just shrugged my little shoulders and went back to my room.

My parents argued all night, but I wasn't bothered by it.

"Rein...Rein...Reina!" My mother yelled, snapping me from my daydream.

"H-huh?"

"What I tell you about zoning out when I'm talking to you?" She chastised.

"S-sorry." I mumbled.

She sighed, "It's okay honey."

"W-we he-here...y-y-yet?" I asked.

"Not yet. You excited about the new house?" She looked at me excitedly.

I just gave her a slight smile and nod even though I wasn't. The last thing I wanted was to move all the way to Florida. That means I have to go to a new school.

They'll make fun of me there for sure. My last school people did too, but I had Alex and Braelynn there with me. My two best friends, my only friends.

I have Autism and my speech is impaired. By now it could've been nearly fixed, but my father was in so much denial that he wouldn't let my mother take me to speech therapy.

It's gotten worse over time.

"You'll make lots of new friends." She told me making me side eye her.

What rock has this lady been living under? Nobody wants to be friends with a retard--at least that's the first thing people think when they hear me speak.

"Ye-yeah...r-right." I rolled my eyes.

"Trust me, you'll meet nice people." She smiled trying to cheer me up. It kind of did.

That's what I love about my mother. Her smiles are so warm. Even with the divorce and moving she's still optimistic.

My parent's divorce was finalized last month. My mom said she couldn't take living with my father anymore. She didn't like the way he would treat me.

After that night, my father started to treat me different. He wouldn't take me anywhere because he said he refused to let people see how slow of a child he has.

He always looked at me like I was dirt on his shoe or a waste of space.

"We're here." She said cheerfully, getting out of the moving truck.