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“Our teachers were absolute dicks to Luca whenever possible. It’s like they didn’t care that he is deaf,” Mateo tells us.
“On top of that, did anyone else see that there was always someone watching Paisley? Every time I pulled my attention from her, I always caught someone staring at her. It was unnerving, even to me,” Atlas adds.
Luca gets our attention and signs, “Did anyone watch how she always ran out of class and avoided everyone? It’s like she is afraid of something or someone in this school. I don’t know why, but I feel like we need to stick close to her and protect her.”
I sigh. I definitely had that feeling too, but I hadn’t noticed any of the things that Luca and Atlas just mentioned. I’m not very good at this kind of stuff, noticing details or any kind of school stuff. It’s already hard enough being Atlas’s brother; add on the weight of school, and it’s just a no go for me. Luckily, my foster parents figured out something was wrong and took me to the doctor. They figured out I have anxiety and dyslexia. Playing sports helps, but fall sports were already going by the time we moved into the district.
We talk about some more things like homework and how we like our classes. Boring crap, so I zone out. Instead, I sit there and think about Paisley. I think about why no one talks to her. I just wonder why this quiet beauty is a social outcast. Everything about her makes me want to protect her. Get to know her. Be whatever she needs me to be when she needs it.
Next thing I know, I’m being shoved and asked what my favorite thing about the day was. Mateo says putting his Spanish teacher in her place. Seeing his grin, I think he might have liked that a little too much. Atlas says his favorite was having second period with Paisley since he is the only one that has that class with her.
Ass.
“Paisley,”Luca signs.
Of course. I’m pretty sure that we all knew that was coming.
It’s my turn, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to have the lamest answer, but oh well.
“Lunch,” is all I say.
They all look at me with that “are you serious” face. I just shrug. Lunch is simple. I don’t have to worry about school or people. I can just eat and be with my brothers. So I just tell them that, and they finally nod in understanding.
Eventually, once the conversations start to wind down, we split up and start to work on our homework. I ask Atlas to borrow his English notes before he leaves. Luckily, that’s the only class I have to take notes in.
I know it’s going to take me a couple of hours to get through these notes, but I still need to try. If I’m still struggling before bed, I’ll talk to Mateo and ask him to help me with English. I know I should ask Atlas, but he isn’t good at teaching me. I always feel very inferior and small when he is trying, and I know that’s not his fault. It’s my own insecurities. Mateo is more patient with me and it’s easier to learn from him. Maybe it’s because English wasn’t his first language and he had to learn it as well, so he knows the best way to teach it.
CHAPTER6
PAISLEY
BUZZ!BUZZ! BUZZ!
I slam my hand on the alarm clock. Ugh, I hate having to wake up an hour before I have to leave for school. I’m not a morning person at all, yet I have to get ready for school and make my mother’s breakfast in the morning. Though since she isn’t up early in the morning, I do get to take a decent hot shower. I can’t do that when she is awake, so that’s one of the only positives for waking up early. Plus, if I get ready before I make breakfast, I can leave for school right after. I’d rather get there early than be late or stay at home.
Making breakfast is easy, at least. Just some bacon, eggs, and pancakes that I throw on a plate. I cover it up and throw it in the microwave, then check the note that I left Mom last night about grocery money and see she left me money to get food.
Walking to school in the morning is very relaxing. It’s not like walking home. Walking home means walking toward my abuser. While school is its own type of abuse, it’s different, as I don’t have any responsibilities or really have to worry about anything. I can just be. It’s sometimes freeing. Caged freedom, but it’s still freedom I don’t have at home.
I take the fifteen-minute walk to school and think about the what ifs. It’s a normal occurrence in the mornings. Mornings for me are hopeful while evenings are destructive.
What if I had run away when I was younger?
What if I had a mom who wasn’t a drunk?
What if I had left with my dad?
I still have no idea what happened to him. I barely remember him at this point. Thinking of him makes me want to cry.
Wasn’t I good enough?
Didn’t he love me?
Did he hate me?
Why did he leave me?
I know thinking those thoughts gets me nowhere, but sometimes I can’t prevent my mind from wandering there.
