“You know this isn’t going to make a difference, right?”

“You seem pretty sure of that.”

“Not ‘pretty sure.’ Absolutely positive.”

“Look at you, talking a big game. And with big words. Now I’m curious. Elaborate on your certainty.”

“Waste of time.”

“And that there — that right fucking there — is why you’re the only kid in the entire grade that has to take this class in summer school. Because you think certain things, things that don’t meet whatever asinine criteria you assign them, are somehow beneath you. But take a look around this room. I don’t know, I’m getting a bit older so my vision isn’t quite what it used to be, but you seem to be THE ONLY FUCKING PERSON IN THIS ROOM.”

Hearing her teacher not only raise his voice for the first time, but pepper it liberally with language that would have otherwise met with his walking papers gave Derta pause.

“You can’t talk to a stu—“

“I can’t talk to a REGULAR student like I just talked to you. But you’re not a regular student, Derta. You’re a failure. And the best part is that you failed a pass / fail class because you didn’t think it was…what was it, ‘worth your time’?”

“Fuck you, old man.”

“Finally. She shows some fighting spirit. I thought this was just going to be another episode of Mr. Roger’s Secret Life: Child Beatings. Don’t you ever wonder why he had so many sweaters? Not only do you have to find a terrific dry cleaner to get blood stains out, but after the first dozen or so, they start to get curious. Then you have to find another dry cleaner.”

“What is the matter with you, dude?”

“Just thinking out loud.”

“Yeah, and furthering my case that this is not a place for me.”

“Four assignments. You had four assignments. Over twelve weeks. I even let you decide when to turn them in. Several of your peers had all four written the second day of the term and never had to give another thought to this class. And yet here you are, Derta Blanton, because you quite literally did fuck all. On purpose.”

“I had a reason.”

He leaned his chair back, let out a whistle, put his feet up on his desk, interlaced his fingers behind his head, and looked her right in the eyes. “I’m really excited to hear this. Please.”

For the first time, a barely perceptible part of Derta’s facade chipped off. Her sudden inability to meet his eyes let him know that his all-in gamble had worked at least enough for him to become more than a will-o-wisp face in a sepia background. He had become someone tangible that she couldn’t file away in the files of her brain that get put through the shredder at the end of the day.

“Why do you even care what the reason is? Just give me my assignments so I can do them and get the hell out of here.”

He made a farting sound with his mouth that sounded more like a dying moose than actual flatulence, but the point was made nonetheless.

“I care because you have proven in the past ten minutes that not only were you intellectually capable of completing the assignments, but also that I would have looked forward to reading your efforts. And, here we are again, at the point where you deliberately decided to scree yourself out of…what? Spite? Some sense of intellectual superi—“

“I didn’t write them because they made me hurt. All four of them. Every single one made me cry just reading the question.”

Even as she vomited all of this out, he could just barely make out the words over her heaving sobs. She kept trying to explain but nothing, not even a sound, came from her now quaking visage.

Despite all this, he didn’t change his facial expression. Or his body language. He didn’t even speak. But he never took his eyes off her.

Usually a substitute taught summer school classes so that the teachers could have some semblance of what it was like to be a normal human being for, oh, ten to twenty days.

But when he walked into the headmaster’s office and told her— he didn’t ask — that he would be teaching the remedial session of his class this summer, the look in his eyes immediately quelled any possible objection. She simply nodded. Then he nodded. Then he walked right back out.

“Still waiting for that reason, Derta.”

She snapped her head up, snot flinging from her nose, eyes bloodshot with tears that had clearly been held back for God knows how long.

“Didn’t you hear what I just said, you asshole?”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t a reason. You told me how they made you cry. Okay. Why did they make you cry? They were all very different questions.”

“And yet they all had one thing in common.”

Here we go, he thought. He quickly leaned forward onto his desk, showing her that she had his full, undivided attention.

“And that would be…?”

“They all asked about something in our future.”

“And?”

“And…and I wake up every day not even knowing if I want to have a future. Sometimes it’s so bad that I cry because I actually woke up that day. And that meant another day of having to pretend everything was normal.”

Suddenly it all made sense. Long sleeves even in the oppressive spring humidity. Long sleeves AND jackets.

He said nothing as he lithely came around his desk and stood over her. And with a hauntingly quick motion, he grabbed her by the elbow and jerked her shirt sleeve down.

“What are you doing!? Stop touching me! Help!”

Derta’s screams were histrionic. And she kept on screaming.

And that’s when he rolled up his own sleeves.

He had far, far more to show than she did. One of his even went from middle finger to elbow. But they were all words unspoken and written in a script that the forlorn and broken can read and write and understand.

“You…” she began, “you, too?”

“I almost went full bore one night. Thankfully I had forgotten to lock the door that time and my brother caught me before I could…finish my work.”

“Why?”

“You first, Derta. This is your only assignment. Once again, it’s pass or fail. You’ve thought no one would be listening at all, but less closely enough to hear your silence.

“But hear me when I tell you this: your silence would be the loudest, most mournful. You are alive. You will be alive tomorrow. And the next day. Because now, finally, I think you understand that this is not something you have to go through alone.”

By the time the lunch bell rang, he stood up and opened the classroom door.

“You have passed the class. Your summer school is complete.”

As she walked past him, she said quietly without turning around, “Same time tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.”