Polyglot

Prologue

I don't know why, but ever since I can remember I've spoken more languages than the average person. Well I thought it was average at the time, until school started. I thought they all spoke the same languages as me, but I was wrong. I tried making friends by speaking to them in another one of my languages, but they didn't understand me and just bullied me thinking I didn't know English. I even explained how all the others are also my first languages, but they just thought I was some kind of nerd or I thought I was above them. I got yelled at by my teachers to speak only English; they never understood that I don't have one language as my first or second. I have many. French, German, Spanish, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, English, Russian, Danish, Arabic, Portuguese, Polish, and Hindi to be exact. I'm still learning others, one per year. Nobody understands how or why I do. Not even me.

It has gotten so bad that my dad asked his friends at MIT to build me a device so people can understand me when I talk. Even in one of my many languages. It's connected to an app on my phone that's strapped to my right arm. I have a small microphone next to my mouth to pick up and record what I'm saying. The app translates whatever I said into a set language, usually English. The app is hooked up to a mini speaker attached to a belt on my hip for quote-on-quote "public communication". When I want to have more private conversations, I give someone else an earpiece from a pouch on the belt.

Even though all that helps with my communication, it doesn't help with the bullying. Other kids made fun of it and have stolen or broke my stuff. I'm on my third set already! Even the teachers take my equipment from me thinking that I cheat and that there's no need for it. Now I have a doctor's note saying I need it for my "language deficiency".

It's not all bad though. I know, surprising considering all that depressing stuff I was saying earlier. But some people find it interesting and even cool that I speak so many languages. And I even tutor others who are failing in those classes and I'm a favorite among those teachers.

See, not as bad. My family is pretty supportive of my ability. My mom is actually the one who taught me and is still teaching me. My dad works to support both of us, but he never told me where. My mom, though, is the "local translator" as she puts it. Our town is very immigrant-friendly so she translates for and teaches them. She thought it would be a good idea to teach me for convenience (and it is a pretty impressive skill as a thirteen year old.) But I always thought there was more to the story that I was being told.

The fact that my dad never told me anything about his work always confused me and left me questioning. I'm sure my mom knows about his job, but whenever I ask either of them about it, they go silent and order me to do something else. I had no clue what he did to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. That was until...