Us Mutants Prefer the Term "Special"

x2x

-Two years later-

The last two years were spent with the only confrontation between my brother and occasionally Professor Maxwell. I was in the process of getting my books for the next school year, since we had been learning everything on our own, and then I found my brother in the office already.

'I thought I was getting the books' I expressed to him.

"That isn't the only thing your brother's failed to tell you," Professor replied for him. I narrowed my eyes at him. I didn't exactly hate him, but I didn't appreciate him like I should. He was more of a nagging parent that seemed like a baby sitter, taunting us for trouble. Wib turned to face me and sighed.

'I...want to go to school...here'

I looked at the Professor.

"What did you tell him?" I asked, accusatively.

"The one thing he wanted," he answered, vaguely. "The knowledge of hearing."

I wanted to help Wib as much as possible, but our family had stopped that years ago when the children's doctor said his hearing was increasingly failing him and it was all gone by the age of five. A stupid school couldn't fix that if all the doctors in the world couldn't guarantee it.

"And what can possibly allow him to do that?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"His powers," he answered and then I turned, grabbed Wib and started to leave without even the school books. "Don't you want him to talk?"

"Yes, but at what price!"

"No price," he answered. "It's as simple as showing up to class and doing your homework and listening, Aspen. Allow the boy that much for at least himself."

I pressed my lips together in a fit of rage and then cooled down.

"Fine!" I finally agreed and then I had just condemned myself to another life of school.

=XXX=

I was under the impression that this was an island for special people. A school for us teenagers. But I sat in the empty classroom with Wib and there was nothing but NORMAL, since students and apparently the teacher were late for the first period. A petite girl walked in with her binders hugged into her chest and her dark, wavy hair in her face, but then took a seat on the complete opposite room as us. She looked to be thirteen or something, obviously younger than I but maybe around Wilbur's age. She immediately sat down and started to write down something furiously in her journal.

I understood that Maxwell said we would all be grouped in intelligence, potential and then skill, but was I really that low? This girl didn't look like she could do anything but achieve in school. I guess I could take it less offensive, but come on. She's not "special" to me.

No. Quite the opposite. When the room was being filled with more people, they looked to be from Wib's age to mine and up (sophomore to senior). The girl must have been well advanced.

I didn't pay attention to getting to know the people here because I was only focused with getting Wilbur's hearing back. So we sat silently in the back, signing, because no academic class could offer a cure for his loss.

For thirty minutes each, we learned math, science, history, and English in the same room with different teachers and the same kids I didn't care to know. We were allowed a break and passing period to move into some other room. For the hour long break, we just retired to our room with food.

'You sure you want to be in school?'

'It's better than public school,' he responded. Yeah, for you! He wasn't the one having to sign the entire time. 'Professor Maxwell put a link through the teacher's mind to mine, so you don't have to sign to me in class'