The Words Starting With A

It’s not as if Atticus was ever much of a talker, even when he was younger. He was always one to keep to himself, shying away from all social interactions. However, this did not mean he wouldn’t speak at all. If you were to bring up one of his special interests, he could talk for hours on end with few pauses and little hesitancy. Of course, after he had finished jabbering his little heart out, he would always be quite embarrassed about how verbose he had just been. Atticus was always quiet, but he was kind. He may have been shy, but he was sweet, and he might have had the social stamina of a small toddler who hadn’t had a nap in days, but he truly tried his very best.

Here he sat, grown in many ways, awaiting the rest of his classmates to enter and take their seats, as well. It’s the first day of high school for Atticus, the first period, the first hour. He had arrived from a completely different state just a few weeks ago, which is why he sat alone and was the first to appear in the classroom. With no friends to chat with and no courage to approach others, he purposefully chose a seat in the far left corner of the back to sit by himself. Even if he had stayed in North Carolina, he likely would’ve still sat alone. Atticus didn’t have many friends before the incident, so you can guess that any chance of ever making a friend afterward definitely disappeared.

Atticus kept his head hung low, staring down at his lap as he fumbled with the hem of his shirt. He had spent close to 40 minutes last week choosing his outfit for today; his first day of high school, and then he spent every day after second-guessing it and making corrections. By the time the morning in question had come, Atticus had a completely different outfit than he did a week ago. He even almost missed the bus because he was switching up attributes of his outfit, again. In the end, he had to settle with one of his vintage sweaters, some black jeans with rips at the knees, and his favorite pair of black Converse. His socks were mismatched, as always, one long with stars and the other medium with stripes, each covered up by his jeans.

The bell suddenly rang, breaking Atticus’s daze as he looked up, eyes wide. In front of the class stood a short pudgy woman with brown hair pulled back into a bun. She was wearing an orange dress that fell so low it touched her shoes, a denim jacket, and some fancy-looking flip-flops. She had on simple glasses similar to the ones Atticus wore, but his were a shade of green and hers were solid black. His classmates must’ve all flowed in when he wasn’t looking. The entire class was packed tight, with only one seat empty; the one next to Atticus.

“Alright! Listen up, please, everyone!” the teacher said as loud as she could without yelling. The chatter around the room slowly died down as kid after kid turned to face forward in their seats and look at the teacher. 

She sighed, saying, “Welcome back everyone, I hope you had a fantastic Summer, but now it’s time to get back into the ways of school. I’m Mrs. Steinback and I’ll be your Chemistry teacher this year. I was thinking that since it’s the first day back and your first day of highschool, we could do a fun icebreaker!” Many kids booed at that. For some reason unbeknownst to Atticus, everywhere he went, everyone always hated icebreakers. He personally enjoyed them, except for the part where he had to say something. He never does, though, and if the teacher bothered to have read the email Atticus’s guardian sent each of his teachers weeks ago, then it should be fine, but if she didn’t, he’s screwed.

“Alright, alright, cut it out,” Mrs. Steinback scolded lightly, chuckling awkwardly.

Mrs. Steinback cleared her throat, saying, “We’ll do the icebreaker in order of attendance. When I call your name, stand up, introduce yourself, and then tell us about one fun thing you did this summer.

I’ll go first. Hi, I’m Mrs. Steinback, and this summer I went to Disneyland with my husband and our two daughters. Now,” she says as she walks over to her computer, tapping the mouse a few times before continuing, “Jacob Bernard?”

“Here,” a voice from the front mumbled. A tall and lanky boy with shaggy brunette hair stood up, mumbling the rest of his response as well. He spoke much too low and since Atticus was in the back, he couldn’t hear what the boy said. He could only see the back of his head, too. Once the boy was finished, another name was called. Then another. Then another. It’s honestly a quite boring process for Atticus, and he began to zone out midway through. Every now and then he’d look up, wanting to see what the owner of the name that was called looked like.

Most of the kids were between short and medium, as you would expect from recent eighth graders. A few were tall for their age, just like the first boy who went. Atticus hoped the teacher wouldn’t call his name, which, again, she shouldn’t unless she didn’t read the email. Even the principal promised Atticus’s guardian that he would email all of the staff, no matter whether they were going to be teaching Atticus or not, but it’s unlikely he followed through. If she did call his name, he knew he wouldn’t be called until the end of the attendance. His last name starts with a T.

Atticus sighed, resting his head on the desk. There’s got to be at least 30 kids in this class. Only about 4 to 6 have gone and the girl going at that moment was happily describing her trip to Mexico with her 2 best friends and extended family. Atticus closed his eyes, sighing again and tracing his pointer finger across the rips in his jeans. He didn’t know how much time passed before the girl finally sat down, but she did, and the only reason he knew she sat down was because the teacher called another name, but there was no response.

“Axel Pauster? Is there an Axel Pauster in this class?” she looked around, frowning. She muttered, “Missing class on the first day. Pathetic.” Atticus could clearly hear her from the back of the class meaning she didn’t try to hide what she said nor the annoyance in her voice. She moved on after shaking her head a few times and making a show out of tapping the absent mark on her computer for the boy named Axel.

After about eight or nine more students, Mrs. Steinback read another name off of the list, “Atticus Turner?”

Atticus shrunk down in his sink, wincing slightly. She did not in fact read the email. He sighed for the millionth time that day, watching as the teacher shook her head again and repeated herself, “Atticus Turner?” she said again, her tone more impatient than it was at the start of class. Atticus took a deep breath before slowly raising his hand as if to signal that he was there.

“Atticus Turner? Is that you? Stand up and introduce yourself, then.” Mrs. Steinback instructed, her voice sounding a bit snappy.

Atticus swallowed down the lump in his throat before standing up achingly slow, reluctance clear in his body language. Staring down at his shoes, he said nothing.

Mrs. Steinback huffed, making a ‘tsk’ sound and shaking her head once more. “I do not have the patience for this, Atticus.” Atticus stood there frozen for a few more seconds before finally reaching for his backpack, bringing it up onto the chair next to him, and unzipping it. Reaching into his bag, Atticus seemed to grab an index card or small sheet of paper from one of the smaller pockets in the front. Atticus then walked the walk of shame down the aisle and to the front of the classroom, eyes glued to his Converse as he did so. Shuffling awkwardly over to Mrs. Steinback as she watched him with confused, frustrated eyes, he handed Mrs. Steinback the small index card. Frowning deeply, the teacher took the paper from him, reading what it said.

Then it dawned on her.

“Ohh, you’re that mute kid, right? The one we all got emailed about? I forgot all about that!” she said with a laugh of amusement. “Ah, so it’s optional, right? Like you’ve been taken to the doctors and they’ve said there's nothing medically wrong with you.” Obviously, there is no response from Atticus. As he predicted, the whispers began. Whispers and small giggles as Atticus’s cheeks burn with embarrassment and shame. He hates it when his condition is called optional. It’s not optional. He’s tried so, so hard to speak again, but he just… he can't. Even the word ‘selective’ doesn’t sound right.

“Er… well I’ll try to remember that you don’t talk, but don’t get an attitude with me if I forget, all right?” Mrs. Steinback said with another small laugh.

“Can’t he just write his answer on the board or something?” one of the kids called out.

A few others nodded in agreement, saying, “Yeah,” “Just have him write or something!” and so on.

Mrs. Steinback tapped her chin in thought before she nodded and smiled brightly, “Yeah, that can definitely work! Right, Atticus? Write your answer to the icebreaker on the board, alright?” Atticus sighed, forcing a small nod as he walked over to the whiteboard. 

Grabbing a black expo marker, Atticus wrote, “My name is Atticus, over the summer I slept in.” It was simple and it was basic, but it seemed to satisfy Mrs. Steinback. She nodded, grinning widely.

“That sounds like fun! Alright, now come here, please, Atticus.” Atticus looked down at his shoes again as he trudged over to stand beside Mrs. Steinback. She cleared her throat, motioning with her hand to Atticus.

“This is Atticus! We all need to try our best to welcome him this year, alright? He doesn’t talk so if you have something to say to him feel free to write in his journal!” she turned towards Atticus, “You do have a journal, right, Atticus? One specifically for talking to others? I remember seeing something about it in that email your dad sent.” Atticus stood there, cheeks burning, as he nodded shyly. This was absolute torture for poor Atticus as he got publicly embarrassed.

I’m sure she means well, but I wish she wouldn’t do this, and I wish she wouldn’t call Zander my dad, Atticus thought to himself as the teacher began to talk more and more about his condition. Multiple kids were snickering and giggling, causing Atticus to feel even more ashamed. Just when he thought he was going to die of embarrassment, the door to the classroom suddenly sprung wide open.

“Sorry I’m late!” a tall boy with fluffy blonde hair blurted, entering the class with a ruckus. His eyes were a spring green while Atticus’s were a mixture of sky-blue and emerald green. Silver braces and a missing front tooth stuck out on the boy’s sun-kissed skin with freckles covering his nose and dotting along the rest of his face. He had on a blue plaid shirt, baggy jeans that Atticus thought may be from the brand Jncos, and some white Nike Air Force 1 High Tops. He also had a simple silver chain hanging around his neck.

Mrs. Steinback looked at the boy with surprise and confusion before slowly frowning and sighing exasperatedly, “Axel Pauster?” she asked, clearly annoyed.

The boy- Axel, nodded and said, “In the flesh.” 

Other boys around the room yelled out random things to Axel, calling, “Yo, Axel!” 

“Imagine being late on the first day!” 

“Axel, we should have another hangout at yours, like that one from a few weeks ago!” and other comments.

Axel smiled and snickered, replying, “Guys, guys, one at a time please,” in a pristine, fake accent.

Mrs. Steinback huffed, crossing her arms, “Everybody be quiet! Axel, you’re late. Do you have a pass?”

Axel looked around the room in a manner that said, “No, no I do not,” while he murmured, “Er… must’ve dropped it on my way here.” The boys burst into light laughter, at him and with him. The girls were a mixture of annoyed, amused, and absent- as in they were not even paying an ounce of attention and were too busy gossiping with their friends or scrolling on their phones.

Mrs. Steinback sighed again, shaking her head. “Just go sit down. You too, Atticus.” Atticus was relieved to finally be out of the spotlight, nearly instantly speed-walking down the aisle to his seat… followed by Axel. As the two boys sat down, Atticus pulled his backpack under his feet and held it tightly in front of him. Axel leaned back in his seat as Mrs. Steinback began to talk more, finishing up the attendance before introducing more things about herself to the class.

“I’m Axel,” a whisper beside Atticus said. Atticus silently cursed, not wanting to have to talk to anyone. He hesitantly looked over at Axel who had his hand out to Atticus to shake. Atticus did not take it. He just nodded.

Axel frowned, retracting his hand. “Uhm… and you are?” he pressed, being friendly like always.

“He doesn’t talk, Axel,” one of the boys a few seats over whisper-yelled, a goofy smile on his face. Atticus sighed, looking toward the front. His introduction was still written on the board in bright red marker.

“Oh, you don’t talk?” Axel asked, turning back to look at Atticus. 

“Well that’s fine,” he replied to himself when Atticus didn’t answer. 

“Do you have a notebook or something? You could write your responses!” Axel suggested, not weirded out nor fazed at all by the fact that Atticus didn’t speak. Atticus pursed his lips, nodding slightly and reaching down between his feet, unzipping his bag. Out he pulled a white spiral notebook, covered in designs and drawings. He set it down on his desk, beginning to open it to the first page.

“Wait!” Axel whispered, stopping Atticus’s hands from opening it. Atticus quickly pulled his hands away, pink lightly tinting his cheeks. The light suddenly switched off, causing both boys to look forward. Mrs. Steinback was turning on the projector, displaying a Google slideshow about her.

Turning to look at Atticus again, Axel motioned to the cover of the spiral notebook, whispering, “Did you draw all of these? They’re really cool!” Atticus stared at him, wide-eyed, and nodded. Axel smiled brightly, gently running his fingers across the artwork.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, still smiling. Atticus sucked his lips inward, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt out of embarrassment. Finally, Atticus opened the notebook to the first page.

“So what’s your name?” he asked again. Atticus pulled a pencil from the side of his backpack, writing on the first line, “Atticus.”

Axel grinned like the Cheshire Cat, saying, “That’s a nice name. It’s pretty.” Atticus wrote in response a simple, “Thanks.”

Atticus smiled again, gently shutting Axel’s notebook and turning to face forward, but not before whispering one last thing to Atticus.

“Friends?”

Atticus was surprised. Was Axel asking him if he had any friends? Well, no, no he didn’t, but he thought that was clear. Him? Have friends? Absurd. Maybe he was asking to be friends?

Thoughts of confusion clouded his mind, Is Axel asking me to be friends with him? I’ve never had anyone ask me if they wanted to be friends before…

Axel began to slowly frown, staring at Atticus.

Why isn’t he responding?

Atticus hesitated, “Friends?” he asked once more. When there was no response from Atticus for a second time, Axel’s frown deepened.

“Do you want to be friends with me? Or not even that, will you be friends with me?” Atticus elaborated, suddenly feeling a bit upset.

Atticus’s eyes widened at Axel’s question.

Not associates? Not acquaintances? But friends? Like actual friends? I’ve never had an actual friend before. Just the basic “we’re all friends” ones from elementary school.

As Axel sat there, staring at Atticus with impatience bubbling throughout him, Atticus sat staring at nowhere in particular.

After a few moments more, he finally answered in the tiniest voice, “Uhm… yes.” Unaware even to himself that he had just spoken, they both sat in complete silence, the lights flickering back on.

~