Regret List Read Online Free Page B

that we weren’t
really as great of friends as we acted in school. There were no
late-night conversations, sleepovers that lasted days, or summer
parties that we planned for weeks ahead of time. Those were the
sorts of things I overheard some of the other girls talking
about.
    The one time I brought it up, we all agreed that it
was because we weren’t old enough to drive yet, and all our parents
worked. Or maybe it was that we all led such busy lives and were
too independent for all those silly social events. I can’t remember
now because it wasn’t really important or true. The real problem
was that we banded together because that’s the only way to survive
in school. If you don’t have a group of friends, you were a loner.
And if you were a loner, you got picked on, never had a group for
projects, and had to eat lunch alone. It was easier this way, even
if I didn’t really know anything real or important about these
other girls.
    The bell rang before I could spot Asher, and my
friends and I parted ways, heading off to our individual classes.
First up for me was biology and to my discomfort, we had a seating
chart posted on the door. Am I the only one that has trouble
transferring a picture of the seats to the classroom itself?
Something in my head (probably the same part that made me struggle
in geometry) just can’t twist and turn the overhead view and apply
it to the class in front of me.
    After finally figuring it out (I thought) and getting
shuffled out of my seat several times when it turned out I was on
the completely wrong side of the class, I finally took my real
seat, cheeks burning. Our teacher stood up from her desk, where she
had silently been observing our jumbled up stampede to find our
seats. She glanced around at the empty seats, making a few notes on
her clipboard, then nodded. “Asher? Asher Pierce? Are you here?” My
stomach clenched slightly at the name, then tightened further as
she continued.
    “Good. This gives me an opportunity to talk to you
all.”
    Oh no, no, no, I thought to myself. She’s
not going to talk about him, is she?
    “There will be another student in our class, Asher,
who has a hearing disability and wears a hearing aid.”
    What are you doing? I screamed in my head. Half these kids know him already and you’re alienating him from
the other half.
    “This means you need to speak loudly and clearly in
his direction to make it easier for him to understand you.” She
glanced back down at her notes, probably reading from his
disability sheet. “If you face him while speaking, he will be able
to lip-read. I expect everyone to be courteous and respectful of
his condition-“
    Oh my God, you did not just call it a condition.
    “-and if I hear of any problems regarding him, you
will be reported to the vice principal’s office.”
    By this point, there were a few scattered whispers
and titters in the classroom and I desperately wished we were back
in second grade, where I could simply kick and shove them into
submission. Is this what it was like for him every year? The
teachers making a big deal out of him, making sure everyone knew he was different?
    The classroom door opened and Asher entered, looking
harried. Everyone turned to see who it was and he seemed to
instantly feel the tension in the room. I watched as his shoulders
hunched over slightly and he shifted his backpack straps nervously.
“Sorry, early doctor’s appointment,” he mumbled.
    “Sorry, what?” our teacher looked confused when she
didn’t understand him and glanced back down at her notes. What did
she expect, a translation guide? In response, Asher held out a
tardy excuse and she gratefully accepted it. “Great, great, okay,
just set your stuff down over here, sweetie.” She led him, yes
physically led him over to his seat. The whispers had gotten louder
and I heard one boy give a snort of laughter. I gave that
particular boy a hard look, trying to catch his gaze, but he was
already whispering to the