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The weekend passed by without any more emotional outbursts. Mason, less timid then before, helped Mae with the chores the best they could, and they spent the 2-day respite from school together. No friends, no phone, no Internet chat. Just the two of them. On Sunday night, they lounged in the living room, the gas fire roaring away happily, and they were reading the same book, Anne Rice’s ‘Queen of the Damned’. Of course, Mason’s copy was in Braille, but that didn’t deter them from enjoying the quiet time.
“Well, Mase, every spoken word can be written down.”
“Written?”
“Well, you take something, like a crayon or a pen, and you make a series of marks on something else, like paper.”
“Oh.”
“And every word has it’s own set of marks, called letters. Like the word ‘love’ has four. L-O-V-E.”
“L-O-V-E. Love!”
“Yes! When you learn to write, though, you’ll learn a different style, called Braille.”
“Braille?”
“Writing for blind people. Letters on paper that you can feel with your hands.”
“Mamu, will you teach me all the letters?”
“Of course! My precious intelligent son. Son. S-O-N. Son.”
“S-O-N. Son.”
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“Mason? You okay?” Mason came out of his recollections at the sound of Mae’s voice.
“Yeah, Aunt Mari. I’m fine.” With a sigh, he slipped his marker into its spot and closed the book.
“What were you thinking so heavily about?” Mae asked.
“Mamu.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I was remembering when she taught me what the concept of ‘letters’ was.” He stood up and stretched, placing the book on the end table to read later. “She was good at explaining things like that. I went around for days, asking her how to spell every word we said.”
“Wow,” Mae murmured. “She must have loved you a lot, Mase.”
“Love. L-O-V-E. Love. Yes, she did. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go take a shower and go to bed.”
“Kay. Night Mason.”
“G’night.”
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Nick bounced on the balls of his feet anxiously. Mae had called Amy the night before at about 9. Before she hung up (Around 11. Sheesh. Girls.) she had told Nick that Mason was feeling better, and he should meet him in front of the school in the morning.
So here he was, bright eyed and bushy tailed at 6:45AM, when Mason was usually dropped off. He watched Mae pull up, Mason get out of the car with his backpack, turn and say something to her, and the college girl drive off. Nick watched Mason orient himself, get out his white cane, and then freeze, just before he started walking towards the school.
Nick chuckled. Mason had an uncanny sixth sense when it came to people watching him. Then Nick’s smile vanished as he watched two boys approach Mason. Picking up his stuff, he strode over.
Despite the fact that most of the week after the “attack” Mason had hung out with Nick and company, Zack and Jason Freeman apparently didn’t get a clue. Or maybe they did and were choosing to ignore it.
“Where’s your little protectors, blind boy?” Zack taunted, pushing Mason, then dancing back out of reach of the white cane.
“Yeah, thought you could hide from us behind them?” Jason sneered, shoving Mason back towards his brother.
“Go away,” Mason replied coldly, regaining his balance with dignity. “I don’t want to deal with you this morning.”
“Oh really?” Zack said patronizingly. But as he went to take a swing at Mason with his fist, a hand caught his wrist.
“Is there a problem here?” Nick asked casually.
Zack and Jason backed off. The last thing they wanted to do was anger Nick. “No, of course not, Nick. Just havin’ a chat with our friend Mason, here.”
“Oh really?” he replied, mocking Zack’s words. “I believe he said, ‘Go away.’ So you’d better do what a guy asks, huh?”
Neither brother replied. Instead, with identical scowls, they stomped off. Nick reached down and picked up a book Mason had dropped. “Here.”
“Thanks,” Mason replied, taking the book from him. “Look, Nick, I’m sorry about--"
Nick ‘shushed’ him, smiling. “Don’t worry about it. Your aunt said you weren’t feeling too well, so it’s cool. We all get that way when we’re sick.”
Mason opened his mouth to say something else, but gave up, and smiled instead. “I’m afraid the ‘Disaster Duo’ left me a bit disoriented, as usual. Walk me to my locker?” Though Mason couldn’t see it, Nick’s small smile became a grin.
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“And so, to wrap up this section, and to simply screw with your minds, a poem, by Alicia Blade, called ‘Once in a Lifetime.[1]’
Everyday will come
But once in a life time
Wake up in the morning
And look at the calendar
Write it down in your journal
For you’ll never see that day again
Use it wisely
Refuse to forget.
“Now, there’s 10 minutes left in class. Turn your packets in on my desk, and then talk quietly amongst yourselves. And remember, we start ‘Romeo and Juliet’ tomorrow!”
Mason sighed as he slouched in his seat. He would turn his poetry packet in when the bell rang, as usual. English was his 4th period, his last class before lunch, and he was eager to be outta here. Ms. Wailes was a good enough teacher, and loved the subject she taught, but she had a habit of never shutting up.
The bell rang, and the students around Mason got up and charged off. Mason gathered his books, shoving them in his bag. As the last of the other kids trailed out, he stood, grabbing his bag, cane and packet. Dropping the papers on the desk in the general vicinity of the others, Mason walked out into the crowded hall.
A hand clamped down not too tightly around his arm, and Mason panicked slightly. Then he heard someone chuckling near his ear.
“I got outta math early and waited for you,” Nick said. “Sure took you long enough to get out of the classroom.”
Mason smiled weakly. “You startled me. Anyway, I always leave class last. That way, I tend not to get run over.”
“Hey, whatever floats your boat. C’mon, I’m sure the others are getting annoyed with us now.” Nick, without letting go of Mason’s arm, began walking towards the cafeteria.
“But it’s only been like, 3 minutes! And I have to go to my locker anyway!” Mason protested, pulling backwards.
“Fine, I’ll go with you.” Nick turned suddenly, veering in the direction of the 700 hall.
Mason grinned. “You just want to make sure I don’t run off today.” He said mischievously.
“Of course,” Nick answered flippantly. “Now, c’mon. I’ve still gotta get my lunch and I’m starving!”
First to Mason’s locker, then to Nick’s then finally to the cafeteria to stand in lines forever just for a paltry bit of chicken nuggets and french-fries and chocolate milk for both of them they went. Then, out to meet friends at the usual lunch spot under the elm tree to eat. As everyone silently decided not to mention what had happened last week, Mason smiled to himself. It was good to have friends.
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End Notes: Well, I pretty much said everything at top.
[1]This poem is in a published book of a friend of mine, steal it and I will inform her and she wills sue for copyright infringement. Just to let you know