Nine

When I was nine, people told me I was 'gifted'.

-- -- --

School was supposed to carry on like it did any other day, but I was confronted by a well-dressed man with slicked down hair and a pensive expression. His eyes narrowed as he looked at me as if he were sizing me up for something. Whatever the case, it made me horribly uncomfortable. Swallowing tightly, I attempted to shrink back into my seat, but this only made the strange man study me more.

At last, he broke his stiff posture to squat beside my desk invading my personal space in a way that made me uneasy. His expression shifted from pensive to inviting, but he was still a stranger. Raven, who sat behind me, leaned forward ever so slightly.

"Want me to bark at him?" She asked, whispering into my ear. Glancing over my shoulder I noticed that she too was watching the strange man with a mixture of weariness and curiosity.

"I presume you're Thea Luxley," the man smiled, extending his large, calloused hand. I regarded it for a moment, not sure what to do before shaking it out of politeness rather than desire. "My name is Mr. Quant, I'm here to talk to you about a test that you took recently."

"The one with all the shapes on it?" I asked, thinking back to a series of recesses I had to skip in order to complete three separate aspects of an exam.

"Precisely that one." Pausing, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. "These were your results. We've sent them to your mom and dad as well, so they know what's going on."

"Did I do bad?" Suddenly, my heart sank. I had yet to do bad on a test during my handful of school years. Is this what happened when you failed? Did they send a man dressed like a secret agent to tell you how dumb you were?

"Oh no, you exceeded all expectations, Miss Luxley. You scored very well which leads me into my next question. Have you ever been admitted into a program that enhances the learning experience for gifted students?" Mr. Quant arched an eyebrow, gently setting the document on my desk for me to study. It didn't make much sense to me, but it did help ease my nerves to feel like I had an ounce of control in the situation.

"But I'm not gifted," I frowned, shoving the paper back towards him.

"On the contrary. You are! See, I was hoping that due to your test results you'd agree to move into my class with some of your more talented and intelligent peers. Of course, you don't have to make a decision right now. I actually recommend discussing it with your parents first. " With that, he flashed a smile, tapped his knuckles on my desk, stood, waved to the teacher, and left.

Sighing, I leaned back into my chair before slipping the paper into my folder. Raven glanced about to make sure the teacher wasn't paying attention before leaning forward to whisper in my ear again.

"Jeremiah went into the program but he never came back," she worried, eyeing my folder like it might explode any second.

"Do you think they ate him or something?" I worried, very aware of Jeremiah's previous disappearance. Only, he'd been talked to by a woman, not Mr. Quant.

"I don't know. It's possible," Raven decided.

The notion of being eaten alive did little to soothe my fears for the rest of the day. So much so that even Tommy noticed. He did his best to cheer me up and distract me, but nothing was working. Not even the silly duck noises he could make. With a heavy heart, I ventured home to find both mom and dad waiting impatiently for my arrival. Chances were, they got some sort of phone call from the school and the moment we made eye contact I knew they disagreed on the matter.

"Did you hear that they want Thea in the gifted program cause she's smart?" Tommy asked, smiling with pride. Unfortunately, Tommy wasn't great at reading situations like this.

"We did, and we're hoping to talk about it if it won't interrupt your homework," Mom smiled, watching as Tommy plopped down into his usual place at the kitchen table.

"I'll be fine. Talk away," he encouraged already moving to grab his folder.

Nodding, Dad turned to face me and tapped the seat next to him. Setting my backpack aside I took up my place at the table. For a while, nothing but silence followed suit until he figured out where to start. "Mr. Quant gave us a phone call and said he came to talk to you today."

"He did. He's kind of scary," I admitted, staring at a spot on the table where the wood was twisted into a knot.

"What do you think? Do you want to try the program?" Mom asked, her eyes shining brightly. Based on the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, I knew she had a much more positive outlook on it than Dad.

"Maybe, but I don't know. I like my class," I insisted. Mom nodded as if she expected this. Folding her hands, she leaned forward ever so slightly and lowered her voice as if that would keep Tommy from hearing what she was saying. "Look, I know Raven is your best friend. She's a wonderful and sweet kid, but don't let her hold you back. You're brilliant, Thea. You're miles ahead of the others in your class. I don't want you to miss out on an opportunity because you feel guilty for switching classes. Raven will be fine."

"What's the point though?" I asked. "What does the special class even do?"

"Well, when I was your age, they didn't have classes like that, but it would have been helpful. I felt like I was always being slowed down by other people," Mom continued, "and it was frustrating. Sure, it might be a bit of an adjustment, but it could be worth it. You'll have an easier time transitioning into high school."

"Dad?" Turning to my father I expected him to interject with a strong opinion of his own, but it seemed that whatever discussion he and Mom had was ruining his spirit.

"If you want to try it, you can," he said at last, settling his hand on top of my own. "Just think about it, okay? There's no rush to make a choice right now."

"Okay. I'll think on it," I agreed, but I'd already made a decision. There was no reason for me to leave my current class. I liked Mr. Sherwood! He was funny, energetic, and sometimes he'd play with us on the playground. There was the class pet, Shelly. It was my turn to feed her this week but I wouldn't get to drop special turtle pellets into her tank if I switched classes. And of course there was Raven.

We'd managed to have the same class since first grade. I didn't know what school was like without her. We ate lunch together and wrestled at recess when no one was looking. In PE, Raven would go absolutely feral and make sure I wasn't hit too hard in dodgeball by Riley and Lily or their lackies. If they put a little too much force behind their throws, she retaliated with a ball that seemed to break the sound barrier.

In return, I went out of my way to assist her in class. See, math was Raven's greatest weakness when it came to school. Sure, I could get into trouble for talking, but Mr. Sherwood seemed to understand our arrangement and he let it slide. Besides, she understood things better when I explained them, and I liked spending time with her even if it was for educational purposes.

I guess my biggest concern was losing what I had. No matter how much thought I put into my decision I kept coming up with the same answer; the gifted program wasn't for me. There just wasn't anything Mr. Quant could offer that would make me give up what I had going for me. And what I had going for me was my best friend.

Thankfully, Mom and Dad stayed away from the 'gifted program' discussion until later that night. As it turns out, my hungry little belly could be really demanding, and as a result I abandoned my bed for a mid-night snack. On certain nights, I could get away with taking two and chucking one against Raven's bedroom window. She'd inevitably wake up, and we'd sit outside on our small windowsill porches talking and eating. It'd become a tradition of sorts. Only this time I didn't even make it to the fridge. My mission was stopped the moment I heard two voices talking in agitated whispers.

"I'm not saying I won't support her if she wants to try it, I just have my concerns," Dad sighed. I could picture him leaning back against the kitchen counter, the palms of his hands pressed firmly into the granite. "You know the consequences a lot of these programs have. Most of my clients have issues because of them. Gifted kid burnout is a real thing, and it has serious implications for Thea's future."

"That's assuming that she develops those issues. Every kid is different. I think it'll be good for her. I don't want her being held back just because of a friend," Mom insisted. "She's smart, Ezra, and it'd be a real shame if her intelligence was wasted."

"She's Nine, Lydia," Dad argued.

"She's older than Thomas was when he was recommended."

"And look how well that turned out for him!" Dad 's voice rose ever so slightly before he recollected himself. "I just...I don't support it. There's no real science saying that programs like this are any more effective than regular classrooms."

"I want her to challenge herself. You see how bored she gets with school. She hardly talks about it unless it's PE. Even then it's not because she enjoys playing sports like Tommy does. It's because she finds it funny when Raven gives kids bloody noses during dodgeball," Mom replied.

"I guess I'm just trying to understand why this means so much to you," Dad emphasized. His tone was now gentler and more curious. Like he really did want to understand Mom's point of view.

"I would have given anything for my parents to recognize my gifts at her age, but they didn't. They ignored any amount of success I had because I wasn't living up to the expectations they had for me. I want Thea to have what I didn't. A support system that recognizes her gifts and her intelligence. I want people to be proud of her. I want to be proud of her in a way my parents never were for me," Mom explained.

Silence settled over the kitchen for a moment, and it was then that I realized the conversation was over. Swallowing tightly, I snuck back up the stairs and into my room. Lying in bed, I stared intently at the ceiling trying to come to terms with everything I'd heard. Sighing, I rolled onto my side and struggled to fall back asleep.

My formerly finalized decision was now completely uprooted. There was only one choice I could make now; I needed to trust Mr. Quant's judgement and the program he spoke so highly of. As a result, the first thing I did the next morning was tell Mom that I wanted to enter the program.

The smile on her face was enough to bolster my confidence along with the glint of happiness in her pretty brown eyes. After receiving a plethora of light kisses on my cheeks, Mom moved on to enthusiastically prepare my lunch for the day. For a while, I found myself smiling along with her, but that smile slowly faded the closer Tommy and I walked to school. The moment we hit the crosswalk doubts began to circulate in my head. What was I about to get myself into?

An answer came soon enough as Mr. Sherwood beckoned me over to his desk. Like usual, I was one of the first people in class. The only other one there was Lily but neither of us acknowledged each other. Swallowing tightly, I adjusted my hold on my backpack as I moved to stand beside Mr. Sherwood's desk.

"I'm assuming you don't know where Mr. Quant's classroom is, do you Thea?" He mused, offering a gentle smile. "He was so excited to find out you accepted. Unfortunately, that means today is your last day with me."

"Forever?" I asked, the gravity of the situation setting in. 

"Well, I won't be dead. I'm sure I'll see you on the playground," Mr. Sherwood chuckled. Standing, he wiped his hands on his pants before gesturing to the door. "I'll show you how to get to your new class. Lily, why don't you tag along? I can't leave you here alone."

With a groan of contempt, Lily abandoned her desk to follow Mr. Sherwood and I through the halls. Keeping quiet as we walked, I listened to Mr. Sherwood ramble. Despite his supposed excitement he seemed more upset than anything else. At last, he paused in front of a door with a room number I didn't recognize. Tapping his knuckles on the door to announce our arrival, he opened it with a flourish for me to enter. Pausing, I turned to look at him, and it was then that I noticed the falter in his smile.

"Are you gonna be okay Mr. Sherwood?" I asked, taking a step back from the open door. My words caused his smile to fade and soon he was kneeling down in front of me. 

"Well, I suppose I'm just going to miss you, that's all. You've been an absolute joy to have in class. And I can't thank you enough for helping your classmates in ways that I can't. Particularly your friend Raven. I guess we'll both be missing you, yes?" He offered me another smile, but this one was weighed down with a special kind of sadness. Melancholy, I think. "You're going to do great things. I just know it. Now, I don't want to hold you up anymore. Go on and meet your new class."

At his encouragement I took a few hesitant steps inside before a similar sadness as his overcame me. Wheeling about on my heel, I moved to tackle him in a hug. At first, he went rigid in surprise before chuckling lightly and hugging me back. "I'm going to miss you too Mr. Sherwood. I love you." 

"I love you too, Thea," He replied, his voice hitching in the middle. With that, he pulled back from the hug and began his journey back through the halls with Lily in tow. Now, I was all alone. Heart hammering, I turned my full attention to a class of other students both older and younger than me. Despite the age differences, they all wore similar expressions of judgement and curiosity. Then there was Mr. Quant who came to greet me. He was horribly well dressed just like before. I'd never seen someone with such a straight tie before. Or straight anything now that I thought about it. 

"Welcome! It's great to see you," He smiled. Admittedly, I only half listened to what he was saying. Suddenly I was reliving my first day of school all over again; standing at the front of the class offering up some arbitrary information no one would bother to remember. Then I took an empty seat and things began like normal. Only, I didn't know what normal was in here. 

The moment the bell rang, the projector was on, and a load of information flashed onto the screen. Each grade level within the class had its own specific schedule. Mine called for a series of workbooks, none of which I possessed. Thankfully, Mr. Quant was prepared and soon enough I was nose deep in a series of math problems involving shapes I didn't know the name of. 

I wish I could say that I had some profound experience my first day, but I didn't. In fact, I felt like I no longer understood anything, and I was too scared to ask questions. Everyone else seemed comfortable in what they were doing. They remained quiet, never uttering a single word. The only sounds within the classroom were the humming projector, an occasional pencil being sharpened, and the clicking of Mr. Quant's grading pen.

My only hope was that lunch and recess would be a bit more exciting. That was until I realized I now operated on an entirely different schedule than before. My recess and lunch were both later in the day to match up with the older kids' schedule. It was like everything was designed to someday force me into their system. 

Both confused and afraid, I couldn't wait until the day was over.

Only when I was home did I relax. From what I knew, I didn't have any homework, but this just meant that I was open to a bunch of questions from Mom. She asked me how my day was, what I'd learned, and what my impression of the class was. Part of me wanted to tell her I wasn't a fan, but the other part of me decided it was best to keep that information to myself. So, I did. 

I kept myself quiet for a week, but in the course of that week I realized that I wasn't going to be helped in class. Even when I asked questions I was met with vague leading answers. I guess they figured if I really was gifted, I'd be smart enough to figure it out for myself. Only that didn't happen. Instead, I relied on trying to steal glances from another kid's paper. 

From what I knew, his name was Lorenzo, he was Hispanic, and he was in my grade level. He didn't seem new like I was, but if he was new, he hid it well where I didn't. It took me some time before I realized he angled his paper specifically so I could sneak answers from it if I got stuck. We never talked, but there was a mutual understanding between us as I began to do the same. Only, the better I got at my work, the harder it became. 

Then, about two weeks into the class, Mr. Quant began to read us some story about a Donkey named Don-Tweet-Hot-Aye or something. Frankly, it was boring, and I didn't have the slightest interest in the Donkey or its journey. Unfortunately, this meant my quiz scores in regard to the book plummeted. Consequently, Mr. Quant began to send excerpts for me to read in my homework folder on top of the other work I needed to finish. 

What was worse, with the amount of homework I now had, I hadn't seen Raven in half a month. Every time she rang our doorbell looking to play, mom or dad had to politely turn her away, and by the time I was done with my work dinner was ready. 

It was a miserable existence for me that only grew worse with time. Everyone was flourishing, including me, but that was only as far as test scores went. If I didn't get another quiz for the rest of my life, I would die happy. I'd even give up one of my arms or legs to avoid hearing anything else about the Don-Potato Donkey. Honestly, if the Donkey died, that would be the best part of the whole book. 

At some point, I managed to slip a note to Lorenzo without Mr. Quant noticing. I didn't expect Lorenzo to reply, he was one of the best students, but when Mr. Quant bent behind his desk to rifle through a drawer, a folded piece of paper found its way onto my desk. It read: 'Talk after class?' to which I agreed. 

With a bit of renewed hope, I waited impatiently for the bell to ring. When it did, Lorenzo made his way into the hall where I was quick to follow. He took a moment to adjust his glasses and clean the lenses on his shirt before giving me a proper smile. 

"To answer your question from earlier, yes, Mr. Quant reads a book like that every year. He says it's good for our vocabulary," Lorenzo explained. 

"But why? It's so boring and he doesn't do any neat voices," I argued.

"He says it detracts from the meaning of the story. Also, the main character isn't a donkey, he just rides one in case you didn't know," Lorenzo continued.

"That makes more sense," I admitted. Then, a new question formed in my mind. "Lorenzo, why are you in this class?"

"My parents think it'll help me in high school. My mom didn't go to college, so she wants me to use my brains when she didn't," he informed, "but I think she's really smart. She just couldn't afford to go."

"Are you happy?" I asked.

"Well, I'm not sad, so I guess so," he nodded, smiling in that silly way of his where his top teeth bit down on his lower lip. "Are you?"

That was the question, wasn't it? For a moment, I didn't answer because the answer scared me, but I don't think Lorenzo needed me to say anything out loud. He knew what it was that I didn't want to say.

That night, as I sat at the dinner table doing my homework, I became aware of mom and dad talking in the kitchen. Apparently, that was their preferred meeting place. 

"She deserves to be a kid. I want to pull her out," Dad insisted.

"She doesn't seem upset though," Mom reasoned. "Why remove her from something she seems to be fine with?"

"Because I don't want her to waste away doing math problems. It's not worth it."

They went back and forth again for some time before coming to a conclusion. The conclusion being that dad thought I couldn't make it. That I couldn't handle it. Call it foolish if you will, but I felt the infant stages of pride blossom in my chest. Why would he doubt me when Mom believed in me? That notion alone was painful. 

Consequently, I ignored my former feelings after talking to Lorenzo and trudged through another two weeks of the 'gifted class'.

 One night, I was woken by something hitting my window. At first, I chose to ignore it, until something else smacked against it. It didn't take me long to figure out why. Climbing out of bed, I ventured to my window, first noticing Raven standing on her small balcony and then the two packets of string cheese laying on my own. It was then that I realized I hadn't surprised her with a midnight snack in ages. I'd been too tired to even wake up because I was hungry. 

Sighing, I eased open the window and slipped out onto the balcony before easing it shut behind me. Stooping down, I picked up my snacks and greedily opened the first. 

"Hi sleepy head," Raven smiled, leaning on the railing. Her smile alone was enough to make me forget my temporary worry. Moving, I leaned upon the railing as well. We were almost close enough to hug without falling over the side. "I'm glad they didn't eat you."

"Me too," I laughed. "How is class?"

"Okay," Raven shrugged, nibbling at her string cheese. "I'm doing okay in math."

"That's good," I smiled, genuinely happy that she was able to make sense of things without me.

"I still miss you though," Raven admitted, her previous happiness fading. "I wish we could at least walk home from school like we used to but Dad-"

"Drives you because it's easier, I know," I finished. Ever since her dad had gotten a job at the school, she'd stopped walking with us. In a way, it let her spend time with him, but it made my journey to and from school less exciting. 

Silence settled between us for a moment, and I realized we no longer had much to talk about. We quintessentially lived in two separate worlds now. Reluctantly bidding her good night, I found myself feeling more alone than I ever had before. It was then that I made a promise; no one would know. I'd keep all of my apprehension to myself along with all of my frustration. I'd become a dam of sorts. Destined to keep my feelings to myself, but after an insufferable two months I inevitably broke, as most dams do when worn down with time. I wasn't sure when I started crying, but when I did, I couldn't seem to stop. At first, no one seemed to notice, not even Mr. Quant, until I became so worked up my sobs were unavoidable. 

At this, he hesitantly meandered over to my desk, asking what was wrong. I didn't want to tell him it was the stupid sheet of math questions that I'd been doing for the past three days. I didn't want to tell him it was because I missed Mr. Sherwood. I didn't want to tell him it was because I didn't care about the stupid Donkey-Man in his book. Instead, I told him it was my stomach that was upset. Not my heart. 

This inevitably backfired because it didn't take long for me to be sent to the office where my mom came to collect me. She patiently signed me out and took me to the car before asking me a plethora of questions regarding my supposed illness, none of which I could answer.  Instead, I continued to cry completely beside myself all the way home. When I was halfway through the door, she carefully picked me up, took my backpack, and set me on the counter. She did her best to wipe away my tears and with one look into her eyes, I knew that she knew my stomach wasn't upset. 

"Do you want to tell me what's really got you so upset?" She asked, smoothing out my hair and pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

For a moment I almost lied again until everything came tumbling out. "I don't want to be gifted anymore. I want to be stupid! I want to be dumb!"

"Honey, don't say that," Mom sighed, but I wasn't finished. 

"I want to go back to Mr. Sherwood's class. I want to sit there and do easy things. I want my normal recess and my normal lunch." By now, getting a full sentence out was difficult. All the while, mom rubbed soothing circles into my back. She didn't interrupt, she just listened. "I miss Raven. I know you want me to be smart 'cause she's holding me back, but I don't care! I didn't want to do the class but you- I wanted you to be proud of me. I wanted to show Dad I could do it, but I don't want to. I hate the class, I hate Mr. Quant, I hate his donkey book, and I hate being smart." 

With that, I heaved a large sigh, leaned forward, and buried my face into her shoulder. I expected her to be mad. To encourage me to change my mind, but instead she let me cry myself into some strange sort of calm. Slowly, with her help, I managed to gather myself.

"Thea, honey, I will always be proud of you. Just like I'm always proud of Thomas. Just like I'm always proud of Dad. Don't ever feel like you have to do something just to make me happy. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way." Her expression was one of mild pain as she touched her forehead to mine. "I know sometimes you overhear Dad and I talking. Please, talk to me in the future if you do. I don't want you to misunderstand something. I promise, I won't be mad at you. I'd rather you ask, darling. I want you to tell me how you're feeling. Don't keep it all in. It's not healthy." 

"So, you're not upset?" I whimpered. 

"No, I'm not upset. I'll call the school first thing tomorrow morning to withdraw you," she promised, planting a kiss on my cheek. "It might suck, but there's a chance you'll have to finish out the week before transitioning back. Do you think you'll be okay until then?"

"Yeah, I can," I nodded. "That way I can say bye to Lorenzo."

"Is he a friend of yours?" Mom asked.

"Kind of," I nodded. Taking this at face value, she helped me down from the counter. That night, she told Dad about my decision, and he was in full support of my choice just like Mom was. Relieved, I couldn't wait for the week to be over. The anticipation alone nearly killed me. 

Then the day came. It was one of the few times I'd ever been excited for a Monday. Chin held high, I marched into Mr. Sherwood's class greeted by the familiar smell and faint hum of music that came from his computer. I was barely two feet inside when I was knocked flat on my back.

"I can't believe it! You're actually back! Why didn't you tell me?" Raven demanded, clinging to me like a koala.

"Surprise!" I laughed, hugging her back just as tight. 

"Raven, what did I say about playing tackle football in class?" Mr. Sherwood asked, glancing up from his desk.

"Only when you aren't looking?" Raven asked, scrambling to her feet and pulling me up along with her. 

"Close enough," Mr. Sherwood chuckled. "As for you Thea, welcome back. It's good to see you again. I kept your seat open." 

Just like he'd said, I found my desk exactly as I'd left it. Right in front of Raven's. 

"If she's back doesn't that mean she was too dumb to pass?" Riley asked.

"So? You were too dumb to even get in," Raven retorted, flopping down into her seat.

"I was smart enough; I just didn't like it. I guess I missed everyone. Even you, Riley." This confused him greatly which was enough of a reward for me. And while most kids spent the rest of their Monday waiting for it to be over, I was savoring every moment of mine. Even when I sat at the kitchen table doing homework because right beside me was Raven, humming to herself and kicking her feet beneath the table. This was exactly how things should be. I wasn't wallowing in homework that never seemed to end, I wasn't worried about my scores, and I wasn't alone anymore. Things were normal again, and I couldn't be happier, even if 'normal' made me dumb.