Count On Me

by Melyssa Winchester

  “Oh that’s right, you can’t speak. I forgot you’re retarded and mute.”

  I hate those words. I’m not any of those things, but with the amount of times I hear them, I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I start believing them. I let my eyes scan the hallway around us, looking for a teacher or even another student that might be able to stop what’s about to happen, but when all I’m met with is other members of the football team, I know it’s a waste of time.

  They’re going to recreate what they did with me in the parking lot and there’s not a thing I can do to stop it. It only makes me wish I’d stayed with Kayden when he’d been waiting for me. If I did that, then maybe they wouldn’t be doing this to me.

  I’m scared and I’m pretty sure he knows it because as he bends in closer to me, he laughs as my body shivers. He has to know what being this close to me is going to do, yet he’s making no move to get away from it. It’s almost as if he wants it to happen.

  “You know, I’m trying to figure out what he sees in you. What it is about you that he’s willing to ditch all of his friends for. I can’t figure it out. So, why don’t you tell me?”

  I’m not entirely sure what it is I’m supposed to be telling him, but before I can even get a chance to make sense of what he’s asking, he speaks again and this time, it’s even worse than all of the things he’s said before.

  “Is it true what they say about the quiet ones, Isabelle? Is that what you’re doing when he drives you home? Giving it up in the backseat?”

  Kayden

  I was fully prepared to take off after her the second I saw her body turn, but before I can move, I feel the surprisingly tight grip from her teacher around my arm and I know I won’t be going anywhere for awhile.

  I watched Isabelle’s form disappear down the stairs and there was this second before I turned to Ms. Taylor, that I felt a sick feeling in my stomach, something I couldn’t place. It wasn’t because she walked away from me though. No, this was something different and I didn’t like it.

  “Kayden, I need to speak with you.”

  Of course she does. She knew, just like Isabelle that I screwed her around by not showing up yesterday. I have no doubt I’m about to hear how disappointed she is.

  I don’t need this now. All I wanted to do was meet her and take her to lunch. Prove to her that I wasn’t just gonna give up and walk away even though it’s what she wants. I want to show her that the way she is doesn’t scare me. I didn’t sign up for a reprimand from a teacher.

  “Do we really have to do this now, Ms. Taylor? I wanted to take Isabelle to lunch since I didn’t make it yesterday.”

  It wasn’t exactly a lie, but not the entire truth either. I actually want to get as far away from here as I can right now because no matter what I do, I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. That I should have chased after her instead of leaving her alone. It’s made even worse by the fact that I know Dillon saw us this morning. There’s no telling what he’ll do if I’m not there to stop it.

  “This will only take a minute of your time and then you’re free to catch up with her if you like.”

  Doing as she said, I make my way into the classroom and while she follows after me I take in my surroundings. I’d been in here yesterday but didn’t really take the time to check out the class. Now that I’m getting the chance though, I can see that it’s not all that different then my classes. There were a lot less seats, but other than that, everything looks the same.

  “It’s not all that different is it?” she asks as she takes a seat behind her desk, motioning at the same time for me to take one of the now empty seats across from her.

  “No.”

  “Kayden, the reason I wanted to talk to you, it’s about Isabelle.” She says her face all business, matching the serious tone of her voice easily. “There’s something I think you should see.”

  Well, this isn’t the way I expected it to go at all. When she said she wanted to talk to me, I assumed she would drag me in here and let me know, in no uncertain terms, what she thought of the stunt I pulled yesterday. Not to mention what she assumed I was probably pulling now. The last thing I expected was that she would want to show me something.

  “Show me what, Ms. Taylor?”

  I watch as she opens her desk drawer and pulls out a piece of paper that I can see has writing on it, but I can’t make out what. She passes it across the desk to me and as I reach out to take it, she speaks again.

  “I gave the class an assignment today. I thought after everything that happened yesterday, she would enjoy it. I’m not entirely sure she was expecting it to be what it was, but with Isabelle, it’s hard to honestly tell if she enjoys it or not.”

  “What was the assignment?” I ask, knowing that I have the answer to the question in my hands, but wanting to hear it from her.

  “I wanted them to write a letter to someone in the future. Sort of like a time capsule assignment. I’m sure your teachers have done the same thing over the years in different ways. Anyway, writing is something Isabelle enjoys, so I thought this would be good for her.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about this. I have no doubt she’s handing me Isabelle’s paper. The one that she wrote to the person in the future and holding it now feels wrong. It’s like in some way I’m invading her privacy even being this close to it, let alone actually reading it.

  “Why do you want to show it to me?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure I know the answer to that myself. You just seem conflicted when it comes to Isabelle and I think that reading what she wrote, given that it is to someone in the future, might help.”

  Holy shit. Is it really that noticeable to everyone, the effect this girl is having on me? I thought it was bad with Dillon and the others catching on to it, but now I’m sitting here with a teacher, being told she can see it too. What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  “I’m not sure I feel right reading this…” I answer hesitantly.

  “Well we agree on that Kayden. I can tell you that what she wrote is more personal than what the other students did and I felt like I was invading something private, but I have a feeling that you need to read it, even if you don’t feel right about it.”

  I have no idea what to say, so I just nod in response.

  “Take it with you, but please be careful with it. I do not want it getting into the wrong hands. When you’re finished you can bring it back to me. I’m here until four thirty tutoring.”

  Yeah, I don’t want this getting into the wrong hands either and by wrong hands I think of Dillon and Tim. Even though I don’t know what she wrote, I can only imagine the way the guys would use this against her if it ever got out. She’s already a laughing stock; it doesn’t need to be made worse.

  Warning has been heard loud and clear. This is for my eyes only.

  “Before you go, can I ask you for one more favor?”

  “Yeah, of course, Ms. T. Anything.”

  “Whatever the reason is for you paying her this attention now, be sure of what you’re doing before you do it, Kayden. That girl, despite being one of the strongest students I have, is also fragile and very trusting. The last thing I want to see happen is for her to get hurt.”

  I can hear in her words that my reputation precedes me. It’s no secret the way I’ve been over the last few years and I’m sure all of the teachers are aware of just what an asshole I am. It’s no surprise she’s warning me off.

  Blowing off this warning would have been my response before. In fact, it’s not the first one I’ve had about certain people I’ve tortured over the last three years. I’m not going to do that this time though, because despite the teacher’s concerns, this time, we’re on the same page.

  I don’t want her hurt either. It’s the last thing I want.

  “Don’t worry, Ms. T. I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing with her, but the last thing I want is Isabelle hurt.”

  “Well okay then. I’ll take you at your word. Go on, e
njoy the rest of your lunch.” she says, motioning toward the door and as I turn and start heading out, I hear her speak again.

  “You’re a good guy, Kayden Walker. Remember that.”

  Chapter Eight

  Kayden

  The horrible feeling that’s been in the pit of my stomach hasn’t gone away, even with the time I spent talking with Ms. Taylor and after looking for her at her locker and her regular spot under the tree out front, no sign of her anywhere, I’m starting to realize just what the sick feeling is about.

  Isabelle has always been a creature of habit. Well, I’m not even sure it’s habit really, more like routine, but when she’s not in classes or at home, there are only two places I’ve ever known her to be. I’ve passed her a bunch of times in the hall, usually walking by and catching her as she’s got her head stuck in a book. When she’s not there, she’s outside watching the world go by underneath the ugliest looking tree on the entire campus.

  Her not being in either spot worries me. I knew I should have chased after her when she took off and now the proof is being shoved in my face. It only makes me feel worse because if I just stayed away from her the way she wanted me to, maybe she wouldn’t be missing now.

  I pop my head into the library, knowing it’s gonna be a waste of time and I’m greeted with the very shocked stares of some of the advanced placement students. I’ve never actually stepped foot in the library and it’s obvious that everyone here knows it.

  “Can I help you?” Ms. Reid, our librarian asks, as she comes to stand directly in front of my view of the room.

  “No, I’m alright. I’m just looking for someone.”

  “Who would you look for in here, Mr. Walker?”

  She doesn’t come right out and say it, but trust me; I can hear it in her tone. She knows I don’t hang out here and I wouldn’t be caught dead around anyone who does. It’s just another way the grapevine around here works. Everyone knows what I’m all about.

  “Isabelle Reagan. I thought I’d find her at her locker, but she’s not there so I thought maybe she came here.”

  “She hasn’t been here today, but if she does make her way in, I can tell her that you’re looking for her.”

  “That would be great. Thanks.”

  I’ve never been this polite before and I’m surprised by it. Normally, I try to run under the radar whenever I’m around teachers, figuring that if I can just blend in, they won’t call on me or even notice my existence. Here I am now, actually having a conversation with one of them and acting pretty decent doing it.

  When the hell did this happen?

  “Well if there’s nothing else I can help you with…” she says motioning toward the door.

  “Actually, Ms. Taylor gave me something that I need to read over and get back to her. Do you think it’s alright if I do that here?”

  I can tell I’ve shocked her. It’s not a secret that you don’t have to ask to spend time here, but I figure with as weird as she’s acting with me being here at all, the least I can do is ask for permission.

  “Of course you can. Everyone is welcome here. “

  She walks away from me after I slam her with one of the fakest smiles I’ve ever done and I make my way down into the stacks of books in the corner, hoping against hope there’s a place at the end I can sit privately and read.

  What Isabelle wrote is burning a hole in the back pocket of my jeans, so the sooner I pull it out and read it, the sooner the near obsession I have with keeping it close to me can end. I can do what the teacher asked of me, read it and return it to her, putting it out of my mind once and for all.

  I soon realize the minute I sit down and unfold it in my hands, reading just the first two lines at the top, that the last thing I’m going to want to do is give this back when I’m done with it. No, this is definitely something I’m going to want to keep with me, just like I want to do with the actual girl herself.

  To: The person in the future

  From: Isabelle Reagan

  There are people that will tell you that high school is the best time of your life. That when you’re older and look back on it, there will be so many good memories and things you want to treasure and hold onto forever.

  They lied.

  High school is not the best time in your life or it isn’t when you’re like me.

  When I was four, my mother was worried about me, so she took me to the doctor and even though it took awhile to figure out what was wrong with me, they finally did.

  I’m autistic.

  I know. You don’t have any idea what that means and that’s okay. No one does. I’m not even sure I do and I’m the one that’s spent the last 13 years living with it.

  Here’s the thing. People think that because I don’t talk much or I seem to always be lost in my own little world, that I’m stupid or deaf. Some even think I’m retarded. I’m none of those things and I don’t like that word. It makes me cringe and want to cry every single time I hear it and trust me, I hear it a lot here in Wexfield.

  Being autistic is different for everyone that experiences it. Some people have things that are similar, but for the most part, we’re all different. That’s why there’s this whole list that doctors have about it because there’s so many different forms, that you can’t lump everyone in the same one.

  For me it’s like this.

  When I was little, I didn’t speak until I was six and even when I did, it was like I was two because I didn’t speak the way the rest of the kids my age did. I would point, grunt and jump for what I wanted and when that didn’t work, I would get frustrated and hit myself until my mom figured it out.

  I didn’t eat like anyone else. It had to be crushed and mushy so I could swallow it. It hasn’t changed much since then either. I can eat a few things that I have to chew instead of just swallow, but for the most part, I still like the ease of just swallowing.

  I wasn’t completely potty trained until I was eight. I didn’t understand the whole bathroom thing because I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t understand the feeling that happens when you have to go. Yeah, I know, it’s gross, but that’s just me.

  I got better with it over the years, but I still have accidents now and I’m seventeen. For years, my mom would keep me home because of it, but eventually she figured I had to adapt to the real world so I started going to school. Trust me, that didn’t help and I don’t think it ever will. Sometimes I wish I was at home still because then if I have them, no one would be around to see it.

  Just because I’ve got issues, doesn’t mean it’s all I am. There’s a whole lot more to me, but no one really takes the time to get to know it. So I’m supposed to sit here now and write about it.

  The one thing that still shocks people most about me is that I’m insane for numbers. I’m actually in advanced placement math because there’s just something about it that’s easy for me. As long as I have numbers around, I’m at my most comfortable. I guess that sort of takes away from everyone’s belief that I’m dumb, so I don’t go out of my way to call attention to it.

  I also like stories. I guess when you’re like me and spend most days being made fun of, called names or even worse, ignored, like you’re part of the scenery, escaping into a make believe world where everything turns out right in the end isn’t a bad thing. Usually though, when it happens, I end up talking to myself or to the characters I’m reading or writing about.

  That’s just another thing that makes me weird.

  The whole point of this assignment is to explain yourself to someone in the future, so I hope that everything I’ve said explains me to you. I’m sorry if it doesn’t.

  I guess the one thing I hope for most is that whoever does end up reading this does the one thing that despite how badly I want to, I haven’t been able to do. I want acceptance, but not for me. I want people like me to be accepted. Sure, you might not get it and that’s okay, but do you really have to go out of your way to be mean when it’s so much easier to be nice?

>   I don’t want kids like me to be afraid of their own shadows anymore. I don’t want different to be such a horrible thing. I won’t ever be a cheerleader or go to Homecoming with the hottest guy in school (mainly because I’d just have an accident on the way there and ruin my dress), but I should be able to walk down the hall and not fear the names I hear every day. The way people sneer at me, or even plug their nose when I walk by.

  The kids of the future, especially ones like me, deserve better than that. So if you’re reading this, instead of that sneer I know you wanna make at the person you don’t understand, why not try smiling instead?

  I promise you, you’ll make their day.

  Most days I hate the way I am and wish so badly that I was normal like the other girls. Sometimes I even feel like the world would be better off, not to mention my mom and brother, if I just ceased to exist at all, but as much as I think it, I never do anything about it.

  Don’t make anyone feel that way. It’s not worth it.

  Make that statement from earlier that I said, true. Make these the best years of your life and become a person you’re going to enjoy living with twenty years from now. Be the best person you can be.

  I know you have it in you.

  There’s only one thing I’m thinking when I finish reading Isabelle’s assignment. She doesn’t realize it, but she wrote this for me and I’m going to do exactly what she wants me to.

  I’m going to make this the best year of her life and I know just where to start.

  Belle

  I want to go home.

  I thought everything was over when Dillon walked away from my locker, but I was wrong. Not only wasn’t it over, but it was just getting started.

  The entire time he was standing there, I’m pretty sure I didn’t breathe, so when he walked away I let out the biggest sigh of relief I’ve ever done in my life. I was shaken by the way he acted and the things he said, but I was more than ready to get outside and underneath the safety of my spot. At least I was until Amy, Charlotte and Eve blocked me the minute I rounded the corner.