Real by Carol Cujec (snow like ashes .txt) 📕

There are four sections—math, reading, history, and science,” Celia explained. “I will display each question on the monitor and read it to you out loud.”

My body shifted in the hard plastic chair.

Did Mom put sandpaper in my shirt today?

I scratched my neck.

Scratch-scratch, scratch-scratch.

“Querida, relax. This is just to determine if you need tutoring in any subjects before we create your new schedule.”

Probability of failing: unknown.

Scratch-scratch, scratch-scratch.

Page 210: A parrot can use tools such as sticks and old feathers to scratch itself.

In my mind, I heard Pops delivering his favorite saying in that deep, crackling voice of his—“Better to keep your mouth shut and let people think you’re a fool than open it and remove all doubt.”

For me, keeping my mouth shut meant keeping my hands off the keyboard.

No. I have to do this.

Scratch-scratch, scratch-scratch.

Time for silence is ended.

I have a mission. I need to prove to Jergen that I can be included in real classes. That all kids can be included.

My hummingbird heartbeat raced when Celia read the first question.

“A water tank can hold fifty gallons. What flow rate, in gallons per second, is required to fill the tank in twenty seconds?” She read all the possible answers. “Now choose answer A, B, C, D or E.”

My pupils zeroed in on the letter B. Ana held my elbow as I pushed my finger toward the target.

“B—is that the answer you would like?”

I typed Y for yes.

Their eyes—Ana’s olive green and free of makeup, Celia’s dark and painted with teal eye shadow and mascara—gave no hint of whether my answers were correct or incorrect.

Darn them.

For each question, my mind searched my brain for a corresponding memory from the color-coded folder in my head. It flashed through years of homework with Mom, books read to me, television documentaries, radio interviews, scrolling news updates at the bottom of the TV screen, years of pulling books off shelves in Pops’ study and hungrily flipping through pages.

“How did the reign of Alexander the Great most affect Greece?”

The answer is B.

B is for Baboon.

Baboons live in groups of up to one hundred members.

“At which location is Earth’s magnetic field the strongest?”

C is for Camel.

Camels can survive seven months without drinking water.

“Which of the following factors would most likely cause a hurricane to decrease in strength?”

A is for aardvark.

Aardvarks have long, sticky tongues to catch insects.

“Which of the following is a property of CO2 gas?”

E is for Emu.

The emu, Australia’s largest bird, stands six feet tall.

“Let’s take a short break,” Ana said after the first hour. “Maybe get you something to eat or drink.”

No, keep going.

Each question left me hungry for the next one. My body worked best when the gears of my mind were turning at full throttle. I continued for a second hour, then, after a brief walk, a third hour until my pointer finger became stiff, and my eyes blurred.

“Querida, you are finished,” Celia announced.

Worn out, I sank into the chair and went limp like a wet rag. Then I nudged Ana so I could type one more word.

Trash

Ana ran for the trashcan, and I barfed up the entire egg and cheese omelet Dad made me for breakfast.

Back in the EPIC room, Skyler held my hand while Celia graded the test. “I’m sure you did awesome, Cherry Tree.”

I watched Celia through her office window, silver glasses perched on her nose, checking each response sheet against the answer key. Check, check, check.

Is a check good or bad? Why is it taking so long?

After half an hour, she came out, shaking her head.

“I checked your answers twice, querida.”

Skyler squeezed my hand tighter.

“You got a 96 percent. Let’s get you a new schedule!” Celia and Ana whooped and jumped in the air.

Breathe in joy. Breathe in freedom.

“We will need to find the best way to support you in each class,” Ana said, “but prepare to get your real education.” She sat next to me and held the keyboard. “Tell us what you are feeling, Charity.”

I wanted to say I was feeling joyful, but that was not true. Ana steadied my arm so my finger could type the truth.

I am nervous. I still cannot always control my body.

Celia smiled and took off her glasses. “Querida, did I ever tell you about my brother Marco?”

She put her hand on my arm and sighed deeply.

“Marco was born without the ability to use his muscles. I was eight years older, so I was a second mother to him.”

Celia paused and closed her eyes for a few seconds. “We knew he had a short time with us, and my father always wanted to keep him at home where no harm would come to him. He thought Marco’s life would be easier away from pitying eyes of neighbors and strangers on the street.”

I understand. Pity shrinks me into a puny tadpole.

Celia nodded and smiled with a faraway look. She was seeing into the past.

“It was my mother who insisted my brother go to school and do everything his little body could. She saw his eyes grow wide every time he spotted a dragonfly floating above our garden. She saw his lips smile every time he heard music.”

Celia’s voice became shaky. Ana put an arm around her shoulder.

“My Marco, mi corazón, he left us when he was only ten years old. My mother shed no tears, at least not in front of me. She said, ‘He is in heaven now, telling everyone all the wonders of his tiny life.’ It was Marco who led me to teaching. I thought if I could help all children experience learning with his same sense of wonder, well . . . my life would be well spent.”

Celia peered into my eyes. “Querida, it is your choice whether to fully participate in this school. I am certain you will learn from it, no matter what the outcome.”

I reached for the keyboard and Ana supported me to type. With each exhale, I breathed out more fear.

I have a mission. I will not waste my chance. For