Clever Reflections

TWO- Salem

School was hell. All of my teachers hated me again for having dyslexia. They didn't show it of course. It couldn't be seen on the outside. They would make accommodations, giving me audiobooks or making people read to me. They would give me lax grades on projects that I obviously hadn't put any effort into. They'd lend me pencils and not reprimand me for forgetting supplies. It's dyslexia, not stupidity, I'd think vehemently at them. But they knew. They knew that I didn't need special help with understanding or lunch money. They were patronizing me and we all knew it and it was their way of showing how much they loathed me.
    The teachers weren't the only ones who hated me. Half of the kids hated me too. Some hated me for getting the special treatment that I obviously didn't need. Some hated me because I had an excuse to not read Tom Sawyer. (What these people didn't understand was that I had to listen to it, which not only takes longer, but also gives you the feeling that you're being watched because there's this weird-ass guy talking in your ear all the time.) The rest hated me because they were demonspawn wolves who'd spotted a stag with a limp.
    In addition to the haters, about seven sixteenths of the population of Tesela Middle School felt bad for me, which was even worse than purposefully making my life hell, because they were honestly attempting to help and I hated them anyway. Then there was the small percentage of blissfully ignorant individuals who were either too dumb or two out of touch to realize my condition. These people I appreciated, worshiped, maybe even liked, but it was the cruel irony of the world that if I tried to associate with these healthy, young foundlings among lepers, the very defining characteristic of their species would disintegrate and I would have decimated the most wonderful beings of all.
    And so it was that people in school were hell and the people are really what make up a public environment so I can say with pretty damn steadfast certainty that school was hell.
    Today was no exception. Good work, Witchburner, you've successfully made yourself even more manically depressed. I slumped even farther down onto my desk, practically melting into the cool, laminated surface. A paper lay to the left of my resting head and I tried to write across the page. Well, it's not like it's gunna make your handwriting any worse. I sigh. If I were at home I would groan or slam my head repeatedly against a table until someone came to stop me or I attained a headache, but here I didn't need to be any mose of a spectacle. I was not an exhibit.
    First period would probably be my least favorite, if I had to choose. On top of being torture, it occurred early in the day and was taught by an over-caffeinated man who was often sick. I glanced at the clock above the door. I'm halfway there...
    The intercom crackled to life and a familiar message played.
    "Salem Kaveri, please come to the front office, Salem Kaveri, to the office."
     I stood laboriously, knees protesting, and the teacher (a sub) nodded at me in the universal gesture of go. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt and padded out of the sleepily silent classroom.

The girl looked at me with about as much warmth as a mouse eyes a falcon or a cat or a bear. Her expression held equal measures of fear and defiance. I was a bit taken aback. I took quick stock of myself, black sweatshirt; jeans; slightly sunken eyes from late nights; bed head sticking whatever way. My eyes weren't freaking her out, were they? They weren't that odd.
    I didn't think I looked particularly threatening or mean. But the girl seemed ready to flee at the slightest sudden movement. To my surprise, I offered a small, apologetic smile. I don't know why I'm here either, I wanted to offer, but said nothing for fear of blowing her over.
    "Well! I have all your paperwork in order, and oh! Is that Mr. Kaveri? Good! Thank you for coming so quickly!" I small, twiggy woman squeaked, talking impressively fast. She handed some slips of paper to the woman standing behind the girl (I hadn't noticed her behind the masses of the girl's hair and her presence which enraptured my attention), and indicated where to sign. Office Lady seemed unaware of the awkward standing us kids were still engaging in.
    "Mr. Kaveri, this is Ms. Blanc! Ms. Blanc is enrolling here! We've synced your schedules so you can show her around!" The office lady spoke with exclamation points instead of periods. You could hear it in the enthusiasm threaded through her shrill voice. She seemed to have more caffeine in her system than Mr. Servia, our first period teacher, if that was even possible. I offered a small wave. The girl, Ms. Blanc until I could get her first name, turned her back on me to say goodbye to the person I assumed was her mother. Rude, I found myself thinking ruefully and entirely unfairly.
    The woman placed a hand on Ms. Blanc's shoulder and said, "Fare thee well, grasshopper," before handing her a sack lunch and turning to go. Office Lady turned crisply and disappeared into the inner depths of her den. I motioned toward the door that lead to the hall and the girl picked up what appeared to be a leather book bag and followed the gesture. I closed the door behind us. Our footsteps echoed in the empty hall.
    "Salem," I said, rather suddenly and belatedly, and offered my hand. She jumped a little at the sound but took my outstretched hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
    "Cinna," Cinna returned, meeting my gaze. She was shorter than me and wore glasses, but they didn't make her look nerdy or weird. They did make her dark golden eyes look enormous. Seriously, if there was a giant goose that lay golden eggs, they would look like pebbles in comparison with the orbs which now stared up at me. I was still watching her eyes as they glanced down at our hands. I was still holding her's. Stupid. Stop being awkward. Say something intelligent.
    "So, do you have any disabilities?" She furrowed her brow and I mentally kicked myself, again and again and again while wrestling with my facial features, trying to sober them into something calm and reassuring. If the return expression was any indication, I only managed to twitch odd muscles in my face.
    "Um... yeah, actually. Nearsightedness, obviously," she gestured to her glasses, "and also asthma and allergies and attention-deficit... and dyslexia." Cinna seemed to be waiting for me to take pity or try to meaninglessly comfort her. I knew the feeling. And under the circumstances, maybe I should have, but instead...
    "Really?! Me too!" I said, much too enthusiastically and realizing once again I'd startled her, I calmed, "I mean, the dyslexia. I can't read worth half a penny. Or a quarter of one. Or you know, almost at all." I stopped myself before I could worsten my standing further. Cinna was shaking a bit and worried I'd driven her to tears, I halted and turned, "I mean, that sucks about the other stuff-" oh. She's laughing at you, Witchburner. Of course. You're an idiot. Why do you even try? A blush crept up my neck and I re-hunched my shoulders. If I could've whistled I would have. I started walking again, burrowing clammy hands in warm pockets.
    "Uh, first period's this way. Mr. Servia. But we have a sub." Good. Speak in small sentences. Baby steps. Cinna nodded, smile fading. She seemed to be coming to the full realization that she was here, in a school, where deceitful teachers and demonspawn peers conspired along with monotonous rhythm and aesthetically lacking scenery to coalesce into one horrid maximum of hellish torture. That or she was nervous. The two had equal probability.
    We reached the entrance to the menial First Hour Class. Ready? I asked her with my eyes. To my surprise, she responded. Or maybe it was my jumbled synapses, finally twisted enough to drive me to true lunacy. Either way I saw, clearly in her coin-like gaze, As I'll ever be.

I opened the door, because it seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do and Cinna hadn't reached for it herself. This, however, created yet another awkward situation, as I had been standing to her right, both of us in front of the door, and of course opened it with my left hand, and the hinges were on her side, so not only did I almost hit her with the thing (she sidestepped like she'd been expecting it, like she thought I'd meant to flatten her with a heavy, metal classroom door) but also ended up standing on one side of the doorframe as the slab itself swung to the other. I propped the door open with my arm and, after a moment, Cinna scurried under the accidental arch I'd formed. As she passed, she went out of her way not to touch me, bending almost unnaturally as if I was acid to her fragile paper thin components; lethal. And perhaps I was. Stay away, Shadow Girl. As long as you can.
    I followed her silently into the classroom.
    Cinna did not try to duck her head or sit down STAT as I would have. She marched right up to the teacher, even though I had told her it was a sub and she could have gotten away with a silent entry. No, Cinna moved to the imposing desk with an utter lack of hesitation that could only have been bred from practiced repetition and made me respect and resent her more than I'd care to admit.
    Not knowing quite what to do, I loitered near the wall of the classroom. That's right; take your cues from others. We know what happens when Witchburners try to toot to their own horn. We don't want that spiral of shame again. Ever. Cinna exchanged a few words with the sub, and the lady handed her the worksheet I'd been scribbling on when I was originally called down to the office, stood, and introduced her as Cinna Blanc, new student. I think it was the most I'd heard her speak all day.
    The ordeal seeming to be over, I slid into my seat, a bit guilty that she would have to take a desk in the back of the class but at the same time needing class time in which I was not doing classwork to take in my newfound situation. The block was nearly over, anyway.
    Shortly thereafter the bell rang we filed out. Second and third periods passed without incident, Cinna presenting herself to the teacher and class similarly then seating herself quietly next to me. She would look studious were it not for the air of tension that hummed around her like a colony of yellow jackets.
    As we made our way silently to fourth hour, I sensed a pattern that I had seen before. Cinna was beginning the inevitable trek to loathing me. She had all the symptoms and was embarking on the stages of distancing. People were all the same. (First,) they would meet me, harmless, (second,) they would learn of my defect and (this is where the choices diverged) either (third,) instantly and outrightly dislike or pity me, or (fourth,) steadily withdrawl until they could safely say they had no contact with the Freak. I'd thought she might be different; she didn't seem uncomfortable, but there she was, walking two feet away. Please. I begged silently Don't be like the rest of them. I didn't want Cinna to go.
    Then stop her, Witchburner. The thought caught me off guard. Sure, most people who came into contact with me wanted to be out of it as soon as humanly possible, but I had never actually elected to make any of them actually want to stay. First time for everything, right? Even when you botch it you can say with certainty that it's them and not you.
    I may have forgotten to think as I threw myself at the first option that came to mind.
    "Hey," I said, carefully touching Cinna's arm and guiding her to a wall (she still flinched at my touch but it was mostly in her eyes, not a full recoil. Progress.), "do you... maybe wanna eat lunch with me...?" she stared, so I stammered on, "y-y'know b'cause you don't have anywhere else..." she blinked, her sole movement, "and I'm all alone anyway so..." I trailed off, floundering. WHY DID YOU DO THAT? Because you told me to. I told you to ask her to lunch! And that's what I did. No you just made a bad situation worse. Why am I having a conversation with myself if I'm just going to yell at me?! ... you're not.
    I was about to reel from the rapid-fire barrage of self-criticism and my odd last response and her stony muteness and the universe hating me so damn much-
    When Cinna's face split into a grin. And it was the only thing I saw.