The Differents

I’m different, and everyone knows it, which makes it even harder for me to cope with. My parent, who is just my dad, tells me that being different is good and is something that I should be proud of, but I just don’t see how I can be proud of being weird. A little part of my brain thinks that it’s really cool to stand out but no one else thinks like that so neither does the rest of my brain. I wish for one day that I could be normal just like everyone else. I’m different in a lot of ways. I have dyslexia, ADHD, and social anxiety which gets really annoying at times especially during school when we have to sit still and read something. That's literally two of the things that I am worst at doing. Then people TALK to me! I don’t know how to say this but I really hate talking to people. All my words get turned around and I start sweating when someone says something as simple as “hi”. I really need to get over it. Even though I have dyslexia, I would say that I am a pretty gifted writer. When I get on a subject that I am interested in then it’s like I’m not even controlling what I write and my dyslexia disappears. 

I also was so kindly gifted with seven siblings. These are all my half siblings whose mothers don’t know they exist just like me. We all come from the same father who might I add is amazing. Nobody could ask for a better dad. Our dad can’t watch all of us during the whole year so he pays different families to watch over us during the school year. During the summer we all go to a “camp” with our dad. We call it a camp because it’s such a big property and we all eat in such a big room we call it the cafeteria. It’s basically the most amazing camp in the whole universe. 

Anyway, I’m in my last period right now and I’m trying to sit still and pay attention. “You have a writing assignment that is going to be dew tomorrow afternoon. All of you must write a short story that can be about anything. It can be historical fiction, fantasy, or basically anything. I’m looking forward to reading all of your work! You all are dismissed.” 

I’m pretty sure that I missed half of what she said so after all the students leave I walk up to her desk to ask her a bit more about the assignment. “Mrs. June?” she looked up from her stack of papers that she needed to grade, “I was wondering if you could give me some ideas about this writing assignment.” 

“Sure! So like I said earlier it can be historical fiction, fantasy, basically anything you can think of. Does that help?” Mrs. June is a great teacher. 

“Wait,” I just got a brilliant idea, “Can it be a biography but it has some things that are not real in it?”

“Well that sounds like a wonderful idea! I can’t wait to read it!” I smiled at her and walked out of the classroom and ran to catch the bus home. I caught the bus just in time; I walked to the closest open seat and then realized that the boy that my family who my dad was paying for me to stay with was sitting there. I breathed a sigh of relief and sat down next to him. 

“Hey Trever,” once I got his attention I continued, “what are you going to write for our short story?” Trever is literally one of my favorite people and I’m really glad that he’s in my class. 

“I don’t really know yet, probably something cheesy with dragons or something.” he gave a small laugh that was contagious. I gave him a small smile because I couldn't hold it back then he said, “What about you?” 

“Well, I’m thinking about writing a biography.”

“As long as I’m in it that will be cool.” I knew he was kidding and laughed. Trever looked pleased that he made me smile. I rolled my eyes to show that the joke was funny but not worth it. 

We finally pulled up in front of our house and we got out. I ran straight up to my room and started writing. I finished pretty quickly and by the end it sounded like this:

I’m different. Not the type of different that’s the nerd in the class or the weirdo who can touch their elbow with their tongue, although; I can do that, but no one knows because it’s weird. I’m the kind of different that the world doesn't know about. I hope that the world will never know about us, but it's inevitable. At least, that's what Father said. Most people, when they see me, just look right past me. I look normal, I try to act normal but that's just on the outside. Deep on the inside, I am not normal at all. I am the kind of person who is the complete opposite of a normal teenage girl. 

There is only one other different than me at my school. In my opinion, he doesn't deserve to be a different. Meaning that Alex should have a normal life, not one full of punishment for actions that you've never heard of in your life. Not many normal people know about us, but the ones that do usually think that we shouldn't exist. The normals think that we use up too much resources, like food and water even though we only get to use what they give us; they being our assigned families which we stay with during the school year. 

We were all born from the same father although our mothers vary. Every time when one of us was born, our father ran off with the child and paid the doctor to tell our mothers that we had died. During the school year we spread all throughout the world so that the normals can’t find us, and if they do find us they will only have two of the eight different kids because we have been split up into pairs. Alex and I go to school in Florida and to be honest, I don't know where the other three pairs are. I just know that I will see them again during summer at my dad's training camp, where we train for war and learn how to fight against our enemies, the normals. “One day,” my father always tells me, looking into my eyes to be sure that I am paying attention; “one day the normals will come to war against us, with armies and weapons like no one has ever seen before, but they only do this because they are scared. Scared of you, scared of me, they are scared of being different and that's why we have to be strong, that's why we fight.” I’m only 15 but I bet you that I’m stronger and smarter than a normal man. I could win a fight against any normal, no problem. At dad's camp we make weapons and bombs and prepare for war, alongside man to man fighting in case we ever come in close contact. Let me put it this way, dad’s camp is awesome. It’s hidden where no man could ever find it, even if it was found it has a gate so big and with barbed wire at the top that if you don't have a key to the one entrance, and if the guards don't know you personally, then you're dead. No joke. 

Alex’s and I’s assigned family is horrible, if I do say so myself. They don't know about the differents, I don't even think they care who we are. The only thing they know is that watching and feeding us means money from dad. I’m pretty sure they don’t even

know my name. It’s just, “You, go over there and don’t say a word or I’ll give you back to wherever you came from.” They know that if they give us back that means they don’t get paid and financially, and they can't do that. They would starve if it were not for the money that my dad gives them every year. Which might I add, is a pretty great amount only for watching and feeding two harmless children. Well, I guess not harmless.

My assigned parents did have a son of their own. He’s 16, so only a year older than me and he is the complete opposite of his parents. Trever is comforting and always has my back. If only I could tell him about the differents and our camp. This summer I am going to ask father if I can tell Trever. Maybe if dad can see how sweet he is and how he’s staying with these horrible people, he could let him come to camp! I highly doubt that the answer is going to be yes, but it's worth a try. Father is the most understanding being in this whole universe. He is the best dad there could possibly be. I mean, what kind of dad practices sword fighting and beating the lights out of people with his kids for fun? That was a rhetorical question but if you didn't catch on because you're only a normal, the answer is only the best dad in the whole world; aka mine. 

All of the differents, including myself, have what could look like “problems” to the outside world. We all have dyslexia on some sort of level but I have it bad. I can hardly write the alphabet correctly and may I remind you that I’m 15. Trever knows this and praise the Lord that he’s in my class. He helps me with homework, and when I really need it, he will sneak me an answer on a test. I swear, that kid is the best thing that ever happened to me. Okay, enough about Trever, where was I? Oh, so we all have “issues'' or whatever you want to call them. Some of us have it worse than others like my little half sister Casy who’s only 11 and has both dyslexia and autism, but she's the smartest kid alive on this planet. Although it's hard to understand what she says some of the time, and her writing is horrible, we have all learned to understand her and all of us love her just the way she is because she's a different like all of us and differents suffer from these kinds of things. We're all in this together.

So we all have some little things like dyslexia or autism or something like that, but there are other kids in this world who have these problems and yet still we are called

the differents. We are the ones being hunted by the normals and living a life in fear. (Which secretly is kinda fun, but don’t tell anyone I said that.) I don’t know why we are like this. Father never told any of us and whenever we ask he just blows it off.

 One night we were all eating in the cafeteria at dads camp when the topic got brought up why we were here instead of all the other people with these issues. Dad told us that we would know when we were ready. Jonathan, who is 17 and the oldest, kept insisting that we know and that he was ready for anything. After his nagging went on for a few minutes, father threw his plate on the ground breaking the dish, and marched off to his cabin. I had never seen him so mad in my life. None of us have asked since then about why we are here. Dad has cared for us our whole lives and I trust him. When I was younger I didn't understand this, but I do now. Sometimes, you have to just trust someone, I accept the fact that I don't know and I am fine with it. I will know in good time… I hope.