You Said You Read Me Like A Book But The Pages All Are Torn And Frayed
Chapter 1
Frank POV
It's the end of the last lesson of the first day of senior year and I watch as the class file out and Mikey hovers by the door. Of course I remain seated as the teacher wants a 'word'. Hip hip fucking hooray.
"So Frank" she starts "I've noticed your speech isn't getting any better"
Wow what an achievement. I have a stutter, have done for as long as I can remember and it’s really fucking bad. If it's not a pressurised situation and I'm talking to someone I trust sometimes I can have a conversation but other times I can't even get a word out and end up having to write down what I want to say. All through my elementary school years I've been sent to various speech therapists and none of them helped one bit, so everyone kinda gave up. I can't talk so I rarely try now.
I nod.
"I've referred you to the schools therapist, speech is an area he's trained in"
What an innovative idea. It’s not like it'd be my 80th. I nod again.
"I know you've seen Mr Tradwell"
Ah yes satan of my freshman year.
"But I think you could make progress with this new person. Instead of having a free period first tomorrow I'd like you to go to D2"
I scowl and look away, not wanting to talk.
"It's very important you go Frank, this is senior year now, you'll be doing your finals this year then it’s out into the real world, you'll be going to college and getting a career. So where will you be at 9am tomorrow morning?"
What a prick.
"D-d t- d-d t-t-two" I get out eventually, reluctant.
"Good."
I groan quietly, grabbing my bag and meeting Mikey.
"I-I-I h-have to s-see ano-t-ther s-sp-speech th-t-thherapist" I whine.
"Ah shit" he sighs "still you might get my brother"
"I-I th-t-thought y-your b-brrr-other was t-teaching a-art?"
"He's qualified as a therapist too and started towards the end of last semester as the school counsellor, but I think he did a course on speech last year as part of his training"
I think for a moment, this might not be so bad. I've only met Mikey's brother once a few years back, their parents are split and Mikey lives with his mum and his brother with his dad in the next town. Although I'm sure he has a place of his own by now because he must be well into his 20s.
I nod, keeping speech to a minimum and we walk out the building.
***
I read a text from Mikey just as I spot him at the gate. I do have his brother after all.
"You do realise you're a minute late" he remarks as I approach.
I groan in response and we trudge inside, passing huddles of teenagers waiting outside their classrooms and acting like animals. We arrive outside D2 and Mikey walks right in, me following. I look up at the guy at the desk and gasp slightly. He has firetruck red hair and hazel eyes and is sipping a Starbucks and looking up at me between the long strands of hair that had fallen across his face and for fucks sake frank stop crushing on your best friends brother. And your therapist. And teacher.
"Hey" he smiles. I smile back, unable to do anything else.
"Dude how come you got Starbucks?" Mikey whines.
"Because I'm a responsible adult trying to make a living and you're a teenager who stuck a fork in a toaster this morning" he retorts. Mikey pouts and I let out a small giggle.
"So you're Frank?" he smiles turning to me. I nod.
"You both met like once before, in middle school Frank came round and you were there too. I don't think either of you remember though" Mikey explains.
"b-bl-black haa-hair?" I question timidly, surprising myself.
"Oh god yeah. I must of looked like Marilyn Manson, I showered like once a month back then too. Please can we never mention that encounter again" he gabbles and Mikey giggles "Anyway, mikes haven't you got a lesson to go to or someone else to annoy, this isn't your session ya know"
"Okay okay" he grumbles heading towards the door "I'll see you two at break"
Once the door clicks shut I suddenly feel very vulnerable.
"So Frank, I'm gonna be straight with you I never normally deal with this kinda thing and I don't have a ton of knowledge on it either. I'm more psychology and this is clearly a motor problem, which I have a bit but not lots of knowledge on. I did look back through your file and saw mentions of anxiety and self harm and I'm not sure if that's something that is still affecting you but I can help with that. Also I'd imagine they go hand in hand I mean I'd be anxious if I had a stutter and obviously anxiety is only gonna make the stutter worse but if we try and deal with it it's only gonna have a positive impact. Besides you should benefit overall just from having someone to talk to if needs be. I'll do my best. Sorry I'm not more help but ya know this schools budget is about as big as- as-" he trails off trying to think of something.
"m-m-mmme" I interject with a spark of confidence. He smiles and doesn't reply but we both giggle a little.
"Right, I need you to read a really short passage aloud" he tells me. Suddenly a wave of shyness returns and I look away "Listen, it's okay this is probably pretty daunting for you but just 50 words, you can take it slow, I just need to know where you're at if I'm going to help you even a little bit"
No way. No fucking way.
"I'm meant to get you to read a passage on spot the dog but I thought that looked really boring so I went online and printed off one of those 50 word short stories but now I come to think of it the horror element might not of been the best idea. Anyway, spot the dog or the killer?"
I groan as he hands me the two sheets, although I appreciate the gesture I'd really rather neither. I scan through both. 'Spot was a greyhound with black fur. Spot went to the park' blah blah 'spot had a fun day' Christ I'm older than 5. 'They told me to look out for a killer in a red shirt' yadayada 'the woman turned to me and whispered 'I like your shirt''
I feel myself smile for a second.
"I had hoped you were into the same messed up shi- stuff as me" my therapist remarks, I think Mikey called him Gerard but I have no idea what I'm meant to call him. I nod "So you going with 'the killer'?"
I sigh knowing there's nothing I can do, I'm gonna have to read it and make myself look like an idiot in front of a guy I may be developing a crush on. I would be fine if we were just chatting, but having someone watch me read aloud is a massive no.
"Whenever you're ready" he murmurs and I look back up at him. He's looking back at me expectantly, a reassuring look on his face, no signs of any frustration or pressure.
Okay here goes nothing.
"T-th-t-they t-t-t-told m-me to-o-o l-look ooouu ou-t uh f-f-f uh"
I feel my cheeks heat up as I sit back in the chair in defeat and I wish the ground would eat me.
"I-I c-can d-do b-bet-t-better t-th-than th-th-that i-it i-it's-sss j-just w-where I i'm r-r-r-reading l-like t-the p-pr-p-pre-s-s-sure" I explain.
"That's okay" he murmurs "How about you tell me a bit about yourself?"
I shake my head.
"What if I go first?"
I shrug.
"I'm Gerard, call me whatever you want in our sessions but when I teach you it's Mr Way. I'm 24. I was born and raised here in Belleville but I spent a few years over in Jersey City. Of course I have a little brother Mikey. I enjoy bad horror movies, music and comics and I almost had a cartoon I made put on cartoon network. Okay your turn"
I suddenly feel a lot more comfortable from simply listening to Gerard's voice.
"Uh y-you kn-know m-my n-na-name" I start.
"Can I stop you there" he interrupts "Lemme know if I'm jumping to conclusions but did you say that because you didn't want to say frank?"
"I-I c-can't. I j-j-just s-s-st-stutterrr t-too m-much"
Wow. Stutterception.
"Thought so. I can read you like a book” He laughs “But you can. Try"
"F-f-f-fr-fr-f uh f-fr-f s-s-see"
"Okay. So I can see there's some more problematic sounds but we'll get onto that later. Tell me more about yourself"
"I-I'm s-se-v-v-v-ent-teen. I-I-I p-play g-guitarrr" I state. I see Gerard's eyes light up at the mention of guitar but I pretend not to have noticed. I gulp and take a risk "I-I'm g-g-ggg-gay. I-I l-like m-mmmisfits"
If his eyes lit up when I mentioned guitar they're on fucking fire now.
"Your gay!?" He exclaims before stopping himself suddenly "Sorry it's none of my business carry on"
I don't say anything but shoot him a puzzled look, hoping he continues.
"It’s just I'm pan" he confides.
I bite back a smile. Fuck there's a chance. Okay there's no chance. Well there's a tiny one. Even if there’s not it’s so good to see another member of the LGBT+ community.
"I-I uh c-c uh" I start unsure of what to say "c-c-cool I g-guess. A-arre you oouu-out?"
"Kinda, Mikey knows, my parents know, most of my friends know but I'd rather not have it spread round the school. Are you?"
"Y-yeah I-I'm o-ohh-open a-ab-bout it-t"
We get lost in a conversation about sexuality before being painfully reminded this is supposed to be speech therapy not a LGBT+ mothers meeting.
“So Frank back on topic, we need to identify the sounds that are causing you the most problems” he suggests. I groan but nod. He passes me an A4 bit of paper covered in comic sans. Comic motherfucking sans. It’s a list of various sounds, th (that), sh (shut), fr (frown), etc.
“Maybe we should mark the sounds on this list that are easier and the ones that are harder” He suggests.
“Th-th-this i-is w-what th-th-three y-year o-oldsss g-get w-when th-they a-are l-l-learning t-t-to r-read and t-talk” I groan “I-I’ve s-seen h-hundreds offf t-these. I-I-I c-can t-talk a-and I c-can r-read, I-I’m f-fr-f-fr uh s-sev-v-vent-teen. I kn-know h-how t-to s-say a-all th-these s-s-oundsss, m-my m-m-mouth j-just f-fucks th-them up. B-but I-I’m n-not f-f-f-five”
I feel guilty for swearing but Gerard doesn’t seem phased, he has sympathetic look in his eyes.
“s-s-sorry” I add.
“Don’t be. I hope I don’t seem condescending, I normally work with middle school kids. But I definitely view you as a s-seventeen year old and a remarkable one at that” He comments. I note the fact he falters as he says ‘17’ which completely goes against what he just said.
“N-no s-s’alright” I reply “T-th-thanks” He glances at the clock and frowns.
“Sh-Crap we’ve run out of time. This session hasn’t been very productive has it? But I got to know you a bit which is good. I would stay and chat, you have a free period next, but I gotta teach in 5minutes. I left my diary in the art room but I have you last lesson so if you wanna stay behind after and we can book our next appointment” He rambles.
I nod and he picks up his laptop and we both stand up.
“See you later, Frankie” He smiles as we leave the room and I feel my heart flutter at the nickname.
“B-bye” I mumble and watch as he rushes down the corridor, running his hand through his hair. Well, isn’t he fucking amazing.
It's the end of the last lesson of the first day of senior year and I watch as the class file out and Mikey hovers by the door. Of course I remain seated as the teacher wants a 'word'. Hip hip fucking hooray.
"So Frank" she starts "I've noticed your speech isn't getting any better"
Wow what an achievement. I have a stutter, have done for as long as I can remember and it’s really fucking bad. If it's not a pressurised situation and I'm talking to someone I trust sometimes I can have a conversation but other times I can't even get a word out and end up having to write down what I want to say. All through my elementary school years I've been sent to various speech therapists and none of them helped one bit, so everyone kinda gave up. I can't talk so I rarely try now.
I nod.
"I've referred you to the schools therapist, speech is an area he's trained in"
What an innovative idea. It’s not like it'd be my 80th. I nod again.
"I know you've seen Mr Tradwell"
Ah yes satan of my freshman year.
"But I think you could make progress with this new person. Instead of having a free period first tomorrow I'd like you to go to D2"
I scowl and look away, not wanting to talk.
"It's very important you go Frank, this is senior year now, you'll be doing your finals this year then it’s out into the real world, you'll be going to college and getting a career. So where will you be at 9am tomorrow morning?"
What a prick.
"D-d t- d-d t-t-two" I get out eventually, reluctant.
"Good."
I groan quietly, grabbing my bag and meeting Mikey.
"I-I-I h-have to s-see ano-t-ther s-sp-speech th-t-thherapist" I whine.
"Ah shit" he sighs "still you might get my brother"
"I-I th-t-thought y-your b-brrr-other was t-teaching a-art?"
"He's qualified as a therapist too and started towards the end of last semester as the school counsellor, but I think he did a course on speech last year as part of his training"
I think for a moment, this might not be so bad. I've only met Mikey's brother once a few years back, their parents are split and Mikey lives with his mum and his brother with his dad in the next town. Although I'm sure he has a place of his own by now because he must be well into his 20s.
I nod, keeping speech to a minimum and we walk out the building.
***
I read a text from Mikey just as I spot him at the gate. I do have his brother after all.
"You do realise you're a minute late" he remarks as I approach.
I groan in response and we trudge inside, passing huddles of teenagers waiting outside their classrooms and acting like animals. We arrive outside D2 and Mikey walks right in, me following. I look up at the guy at the desk and gasp slightly. He has firetruck red hair and hazel eyes and is sipping a Starbucks and looking up at me between the long strands of hair that had fallen across his face and for fucks sake frank stop crushing on your best friends brother. And your therapist. And teacher.
"Hey" he smiles. I smile back, unable to do anything else.
"Dude how come you got Starbucks?" Mikey whines.
"Because I'm a responsible adult trying to make a living and you're a teenager who stuck a fork in a toaster this morning" he retorts. Mikey pouts and I let out a small giggle.
"So you're Frank?" he smiles turning to me. I nod.
"You both met like once before, in middle school Frank came round and you were there too. I don't think either of you remember though" Mikey explains.
"b-bl-black haa-hair?" I question timidly, surprising myself.
"Oh god yeah. I must of looked like Marilyn Manson, I showered like once a month back then too. Please can we never mention that encounter again" he gabbles and Mikey giggles "Anyway, mikes haven't you got a lesson to go to or someone else to annoy, this isn't your session ya know"
"Okay okay" he grumbles heading towards the door "I'll see you two at break"
Once the door clicks shut I suddenly feel very vulnerable.
"So Frank, I'm gonna be straight with you I never normally deal with this kinda thing and I don't have a ton of knowledge on it either. I'm more psychology and this is clearly a motor problem, which I have a bit but not lots of knowledge on. I did look back through your file and saw mentions of anxiety and self harm and I'm not sure if that's something that is still affecting you but I can help with that. Also I'd imagine they go hand in hand I mean I'd be anxious if I had a stutter and obviously anxiety is only gonna make the stutter worse but if we try and deal with it it's only gonna have a positive impact. Besides you should benefit overall just from having someone to talk to if needs be. I'll do my best. Sorry I'm not more help but ya know this schools budget is about as big as- as-" he trails off trying to think of something.
"m-m-mmme" I interject with a spark of confidence. He smiles and doesn't reply but we both giggle a little.
"Right, I need you to read a really short passage aloud" he tells me. Suddenly a wave of shyness returns and I look away "Listen, it's okay this is probably pretty daunting for you but just 50 words, you can take it slow, I just need to know where you're at if I'm going to help you even a little bit"
No way. No fucking way.
"I'm meant to get you to read a passage on spot the dog but I thought that looked really boring so I went online and printed off one of those 50 word short stories but now I come to think of it the horror element might not of been the best idea. Anyway, spot the dog or the killer?"
I groan as he hands me the two sheets, although I appreciate the gesture I'd really rather neither. I scan through both. 'Spot was a greyhound with black fur. Spot went to the park' blah blah 'spot had a fun day' Christ I'm older than 5. 'They told me to look out for a killer in a red shirt' yadayada 'the woman turned to me and whispered 'I like your shirt''
I feel myself smile for a second.
"I had hoped you were into the same messed up shi- stuff as me" my therapist remarks, I think Mikey called him Gerard but I have no idea what I'm meant to call him. I nod "So you going with 'the killer'?"
I sigh knowing there's nothing I can do, I'm gonna have to read it and make myself look like an idiot in front of a guy I may be developing a crush on. I would be fine if we were just chatting, but having someone watch me read aloud is a massive no.
"Whenever you're ready" he murmurs and I look back up at him. He's looking back at me expectantly, a reassuring look on his face, no signs of any frustration or pressure.
Okay here goes nothing.
"T-th-t-they t-t-t-told m-me to-o-o l-look ooouu ou-t uh f-f-f uh"
I feel my cheeks heat up as I sit back in the chair in defeat and I wish the ground would eat me.
"I-I c-can d-do b-bet-t-better t-th-than th-th-that i-it i-it's-sss j-just w-where I i'm r-r-r-reading l-like t-the p-pr-p-pre-s-s-sure" I explain.
"That's okay" he murmurs "How about you tell me a bit about yourself?"
I shake my head.
"What if I go first?"
I shrug.
"I'm Gerard, call me whatever you want in our sessions but when I teach you it's Mr Way. I'm 24. I was born and raised here in Belleville but I spent a few years over in Jersey City. Of course I have a little brother Mikey. I enjoy bad horror movies, music and comics and I almost had a cartoon I made put on cartoon network. Okay your turn"
I suddenly feel a lot more comfortable from simply listening to Gerard's voice.
"Uh y-you kn-know m-my n-na-name" I start.
"Can I stop you there" he interrupts "Lemme know if I'm jumping to conclusions but did you say that because you didn't want to say frank?"
"I-I c-can't. I j-j-just s-s-st-stutterrr t-too m-much"
Wow. Stutterception.
"Thought so. I can read you like a book” He laughs “But you can. Try"
"F-f-f-fr-fr-f uh f-fr-f s-s-see"
"Okay. So I can see there's some more problematic sounds but we'll get onto that later. Tell me more about yourself"
"I-I'm s-se-v-v-v-ent-teen. I-I-I p-play g-guitarrr" I state. I see Gerard's eyes light up at the mention of guitar but I pretend not to have noticed. I gulp and take a risk "I-I'm g-g-ggg-gay. I-I l-like m-mmmisfits"
If his eyes lit up when I mentioned guitar they're on fucking fire now.
"Your gay!?" He exclaims before stopping himself suddenly "Sorry it's none of my business carry on"
I don't say anything but shoot him a puzzled look, hoping he continues.
"It’s just I'm pan" he confides.
I bite back a smile. Fuck there's a chance. Okay there's no chance. Well there's a tiny one. Even if there’s not it’s so good to see another member of the LGBT+ community.
"I-I uh c-c uh" I start unsure of what to say "c-c-cool I g-guess. A-arre you oouu-out?"
"Kinda, Mikey knows, my parents know, most of my friends know but I'd rather not have it spread round the school. Are you?"
"Y-yeah I-I'm o-ohh-open a-ab-bout it-t"
We get lost in a conversation about sexuality before being painfully reminded this is supposed to be speech therapy not a LGBT+ mothers meeting.
“So Frank back on topic, we need to identify the sounds that are causing you the most problems” he suggests. I groan but nod. He passes me an A4 bit of paper covered in comic sans. Comic motherfucking sans. It’s a list of various sounds, th (that), sh (shut), fr (frown), etc.
“Maybe we should mark the sounds on this list that are easier and the ones that are harder” He suggests.
“Th-th-this i-is w-what th-th-three y-year o-oldsss g-get w-when th-they a-are l-l-learning t-t-to r-read and t-talk” I groan “I-I’ve s-seen h-hundreds offf t-these. I-I-I c-can t-talk a-and I c-can r-read, I-I’m f-fr-f-fr uh s-sev-v-vent-teen. I kn-know h-how t-to s-say a-all th-these s-s-oundsss, m-my m-m-mouth j-just f-fucks th-them up. B-but I-I’m n-not f-f-f-five”
I feel guilty for swearing but Gerard doesn’t seem phased, he has sympathetic look in his eyes.
“s-s-sorry” I add.
“Don’t be. I hope I don’t seem condescending, I normally work with middle school kids. But I definitely view you as a s-seventeen year old and a remarkable one at that” He comments. I note the fact he falters as he says ‘17’ which completely goes against what he just said.
“N-no s-s’alright” I reply “T-th-thanks” He glances at the clock and frowns.
“Sh-Crap we’ve run out of time. This session hasn’t been very productive has it? But I got to know you a bit which is good. I would stay and chat, you have a free period next, but I gotta teach in 5minutes. I left my diary in the art room but I have you last lesson so if you wanna stay behind after and we can book our next appointment” He rambles.
I nod and he picks up his laptop and we both stand up.
“See you later, Frankie” He smiles as we leave the room and I feel my heart flutter at the nickname.
“B-bye” I mumble and watch as he rushes down the corridor, running his hand through his hair. Well, isn’t he fucking amazing.
Notes
So i started another fic. I can't update the ones i have open so i've started another. Logical.
Anywho plz subcribe comment n jazz
Enjoy
Megan x
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ty <3
10/29/15