“I… yes. No.” Olly sighed. “I say it to myself more than anything.”
Part of my heart broke a little for him. He was so vulnerable. It was like at some point in the last two years, he’d taken off some of the armor he had worn the whole time I had known him before. Realizing that there was someone underneath who was also hurting, the same way I had been…
I swallowed hard and shifted myself a little further away from him, out of self-preservation rather than anything else. He might have been a changed man, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t still the kind of straight guy who would punch me if I tried to kiss him.
Or, you know, breathed. I’d been hit for less by his friends before. As much as I had forgiven him out loud – and, mostly, in my heart – I wasn’t stupid enough to make myself vulnerable in front of him. I wasn’t going to relax enough to let him get to me, even if he seemed vulnerable himself.
But right now, he seemed like a human going through a hard time, and I couldn’t ignore that.
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” I told him because it felt important to say. “When we talk, you seem smart. You can articulate yourself okay most of the time. And you wouldn’t have got a partial scholarship if you didn’t have at least some good grades.”
“Just barely,” he said, breathing out a frustrated huff through his nose. “I had to retake everything in the summer. Three years in a row.”
“I still don’t think you’re stupid,” I said. I paused. “Do you know what dyslexia is?”
“Of course, I do,” Olly snorted. “I’m not dyslexic. I can read fine.”
“Right, but there’s a kind of dyslexia for numbers, too,” I said. “Dyscalculia.”
There was a long pause. “You think I might have that?” Olly asked.
I shrugged. “I can’t give you a diagnosis or anything. But it might be worth looking into.”
Olly stared at the notebook for a long minute. “Do you not ever get two numbers the wrong way round when you’re writing them down?”
“Not really,” I said. “Maybe once or twice if I’m in a rush and I’m tired.”
He seemed to consider this. “And… when you look at numbers, do you get a headache?”
“No,” I said. I tried to give him a light smile. “Not unless it’s the math final and I’m realizing I haven’t remembered to study anything that’s on the paper.”
“Oh.” Olly seemed to still be thinking it over. “So… I could have this thing, then.”
“I think you could,” I nodded. “I’m sure there’s some way you can get tested. Maybe you can ask somewhere. Maybe the guidance counselor, or something.”
He nodded slowly. Then he drew a big sigh that seemed to come from his toes right up to his chest – and when he heaved it out, he dropped even lower. “If I do have this there’s no point in taking Econ.”
“Yeah, there is,” I said. I wanted to jump on him – to hug him. I thought he would take it the wrong way, though. “You can work on coping strategies. You don’t have to give up what you want to do just because of this. You might be able to get help. Hey – you might even get free equipment, like a college laptop.”
He perked up a little, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”
“I mean, maybe,” I said. Damn. I didn’t mean to get his hopes up that far. I didn’t know if they offered that level of assistance here.
“Alright.” He nodded again, then closed his notebook decisively. “Maybe no more studying tonight, though.”
“That’s fair,” I nodded. “You have lots to think about.”
“Yeah.”
It suddenly felt very weird that I was sitting so close to him, on his bed, while he was clearly upset – and when we didn’t even have the excuse of studying anymore. I leaped up and then tried to awkwardly act casual to cover my hasty movement, in case he thought I was trying to get away from him again. I didn’t want to get away from him at all.
Actually, that was the problem.
“Well, I better do some studying myself,” I said, and the laugh that came out of my throat sounded so forced that even Olly must have thought I was being strange, in his distracted state.
“I’m going to practice,” he said as if he was still trapped in a dream. Or a nightmare. He got up mechanically and left, shutting the door behind him with what felt like a blast of cold air.
Whatever he was thinking or feeling, I didn’t get a chance to find out. By the time I fell asleep, he still hadn’t come back from practice.
