(#2) The Boy Who Couldn't See

0.7

Andrew:

I sat on a chair in one of the tables of my chemistry class. My breathing felt quiet and the voices echoed in my head.

"Where's the teacher?"

"He's always late."

"The new kid looks weird."

"Is he blind?"

"Poor guy."

My teeth involuntarily gritted, causing immense pain to surge through my jaw. I hate pity. They shouldn't pity a disabled person.

It makes them feel worse and out of place.

I slid my hands over the cold solid table and crossed my arms, resting my head on them. I waited for my teacher and chemistry partner.

Probably ditched me after noticing that I'm disabled.

I felt shuffling on my left side and someone dropped their bag on the floor.

"Are you my partner?" I asked, facing the person even though I couldn't see.

There was a sigh.

"I wish not."

The front door opened and I suppose our teacher walked in as I heard tired breaths. Plus, a new scent of old man flowed into my nostrils.

"Sorry for the delay, students," he apologized and there was a thump, as if he had dropped his bags. "I was looking for a special textbook for the new student, Andrew."

The amount of stares I felt was overwhelming and I rubbed my arm.

It was probably a Braille version of our Chemistry textbook.

"Kiley," the teacher called out and I felt the body heat beside me shift.

"Yes, sir?"

"You'll be helping Andrew in this class, got it?"

"...yes."