Things got out of hand on the school's online forums. News broke out that not only was Aubrey Keats profoundly deaf, but also half blind. I had to look up what it meant, but they said he had poor depth perception and missed a lot of things. People gossiped, spreading stories like wildfire. After putting two and twenty together, it was largely concluded that he was, in fact, blind.

Meanwhile, Mum was lecturing me like I'd killed a man. She'd been going mental since the moment I came in the door. All this business about how tactless I was, my sheer and utter thoughtlessness, the way my stupidity affected others. She didn't even notice when Dad got in. The champion had made it the whole way to their bloody bedroom undetected while my ears got blown off.

"My God," she fussed, practically ripping out her graying blonde hair. "How can you be so careless, Charlie? That's it. You're going to apologize to him right this minute, you hear me?"

She trudged along the floor; arms crossed. Then hands up at her hair, then back down, slapping her cheeks. I wasn't sure if she was talking to me, or if she was more in the process of organizing her thoughts. By the look of her right now, I wasn't entirely sure if even she knew. Whatever she verbalized was, as close to English as it might've come, and for all intents and purposes, a diarrheic mess.

I stood here dumbly, watching her pace across the lounge room for the better half of the afternoon. I'd never seen her so berserk. Any minute now and I was sure she'd turn green and beat her chest.

"You've really gone and d-" She halted, turning to face me. Her eyes were wide with incredulity. "Just what were you thinking, Charlie? How do I explain this to his mother? How will I show my face at work ever again?"

This time, I widened my eyes with incredulity. "Work? Since when?"

"Since ever, Charlie, but that's beside the point!"

"So, she works at the jeweler with you, then?" I asked. "As in workmates?"

Mum's jaw gaped open as wide as her eyes. "Oh, for the love of- she isn't my workmate. She owns the jeweler, Charlie, goodness gracious me. Imagine I lost my job over my snot-nosed kid who doesn't understand basic human boundaries!"

I gulped. Hard. Even though I knew I royally screwed up, big time, I stepped forward, throwing my hands up in my defense.

I said, "I mean, it's not that I don't understand basic human boundaries, Mum. I really just thought it'd be funny-"

"Funny?" Mum retorted by cutting me off. She'd evolved into an utter madwoman, still pacing back and forth. She continued, "Imagine thinking it'd be funny to humiliate somebody to the edge of their life! Imagine thinking that's funny. What'd be the real kicker is if your brother or sister gave me this much of a hard time growing up. How did you even turn out this way?"

My heart sunk. Even as I opened my mouth to refute, it snapped shut again. When she brought them up and compared me to them like that, I felt it sting like nettle. They were her favorites. They were out there making money in the world with successful jobs and their own precious families. Yet here I remained, the family disappointment, too young and stupid to bring any sort of positive attention to myself.

Even if I clown around lots, it's not like I meant to be harmful.

I didn't mean it.

My eyes started prickling with tears, so I turned away and stormed off to my room. Mum yelled out to me by saying she wasn't done yet, but I couldn't stick around to be compared to Melissa and Jacob. It was annoying. I couldn't help that she decided to give birth to me in her late thirties. Did I ask for it? As far as I could recall, it was against my will. No consent.

She should be glad I won't sue her for it.

I slammed my door shut and threw myself onto my bed, feeling the mattress bouncing with the impact. I stuffed my face against my pillow and screamed into it. The pressure release helped keep me from crying, but it in no way stilled my rampant thoughts. Was I expected to know every stupid little thing? Read Aubrey's mind? Should I have by some miracle come to the conclusion he was deaf, and as it turns out, sort of blind?

All this despite his solid attempt to hide it for a whole number of years. The notion was ridiculous!

When I thought about it, I realized I couldn't actually pin down what might have happened. When exactly did he end up like that? Most of what I could remember of him was just being a skulking, moody, introverted teen, following Trey and Ikeisha like a puppy. Did they know he's disabled? I meant - has a disability?

Of course, they did. Why else would Trey have both waved his fist at me when Aubrey missed the pen that time before school? Or picked up and handed Aubrey his hearing aid and sent me flying off the chair?

Part of me felt weird. Like, jealous; or something like that. It was a heavy feeling in the pit of my stomach, as well as in the center of my chest. The idea of Aubrey relying on them... irritated me. Just a little. Irritated me? I slapped my cheeks the same Mum had slapped hers, trying to pull my head in. Aubrey Keats was the gloomiest reticent ratbag that I'd ever met in all my sixteen years.

But then, with this new revelation in the light, I supposed I'd better take Mr. Hardy's advice.

You should wipe any preconceived ideas about him, Charlie.

He isn't at all like what you think.

My mind went back to the old man Robert from the poetry museum. Even when I made my first assumption about Elizabeth Barrett Browning, he challenged my interpretation. He taught me to think closely about her character and outlook, her qualities and traits, then to come back and look with a new perspective. If he was right about an eighteen hundred's poet, then it must be true for Aubrey Keats today, as well.

With this, I took some moments to reflect.

His hair was something I thought he grew out from a lack of self-care, being the delinquent that he was. Or rather, that I assumed he was. Long and blonde; slicked fashionably so that a larger portion falls over his right side. Keeping it lightly tucked behind his ear, and effectively covering the aid.

He rarely spoke to anybody. Was that to do with his hearing? Or lack thereof? Did it affect his speech? No, I didn't think that made sense. Maybe it was just a hassle for him. Better to keep his distance so people didn't figure him out. Years of masking it, hiding it, burying it, living in it alone, and in silence. And yet in the space of just a few minutes, I destroyed that for him.

My heart sunk again as the image of his shocked expression flashed in my mind. Suddenly I wanted to take that back. Desperately.

When I thought back on our primary school years, I remembered him smiling and carefree. Playing on the playground, hanging upside down on monkey bars, kicking and chasing soccer balls across the field, having relay competitions with his friends. In my mind, I saw stars twinkling in his eyes.

Seeing his prospect of a future without limits.

My cellphone started buzzing in my pocket. I fished it out to find Ben's name on the screen. "How's your Mum reactin'?" he asked the second I took the call, without so much as a greeting. "She flippin' out or what?"

"Oh, man," I said, throwing myself onto my bed. "You wouldn't even believe it. She was going so ballistic that I thought she'd tear her hair out."

Ben chuckled. "Who would've seen it coming, though? I mean Aubrey Keats. The school's chatrooms are blowing up about it. My phone won't stop buzzing, have you read any of it?"

My gut twisted at the idea of it. Pulling my phone in front of me, I saw it wasn't connected to the internet, so they hadn't shown up. "Not yet, but I'll take a look. It isn't something horrific, right? No one's being nasty?"

"To you or him?" Ben snorted. "Both of you are public enemies, right now. I swear the school's divided over it. You're either the hero for exposing a 'disabled fraud' or a coldhearted monster who should dig himself a grave. As the feedback reports."

I groaned. I had a sudden urge to see him right now. To go and apologize and somehow set things right, but I didn't think an apology would somehow cut it. Something like this would devastate him and change his entire school life, "How do I make things right, Ben?" I asked, rolling onto my back. "What am I meant to do?"

"Worry about me and Ikeisha first," he said, "like you promised. Then go figure it out."

"Ben," I sighed. "Why are you such a dick?"

"Sorry, bad joke," he said. "Yeah, focus on this. I don't have a shot with Ikeisha no matter what way you look at it." He chuckled at the end, though I could easily detect that hidden sadness and disappointment. Man, I really blew it.

Mum knocked on my door before entering inside. "Sorry, Ben. Mum's coming to chat so I gotta go. Talk more about it at school tomorrow, but let the boys know for now anyway."

"Okay, bye." Click.

The line died and I tossed my phone across the bed before sitting up to face mum. When she took a moment to look at my face, she sighed in relief and came over to sit beside me.

"Oh, honey. I've been wracking my mind with guilt thinking I made you cry."

"Pfft," I said, trying to play it off. "Pish posh. D'you think I'd cry? What a ridiculous notion, Mother. Everybody knows that men don't cry."

"Even men cry," she sighed, pulling me into a hug. "I'm sorry I lost my cool with you, sweetie. I know you didn't mean it and I shouldn't have flipped out on you like that."

She paused for a moment. Her soft blue eyes seemed to search mine, possibly gaging for a reaction. Feeling awkward under the intensity of her stare, I shifted my gaze and looked down at my hands. My back was hunched and aching a little, so I gave it a little stretch.

Mum continued, "I phoned Mel and she lost it when I mentioned I compared you to her and Jacob. She said I must be raising you to have the youngest child syndrome, and that's likely why you're such a pompous clown."

I snickered.

"Yeah, yeah," I said, rolling my eyes. "Spare me the psychology, why don't you? I happen to think I'm hilarious and tend to act in accordance with that hilarity. This time was just a single miscalculation on my part, is all. I know better for next time."

Mum grinned, patting my shoulder. "At least you're learning from it," she said. "That's good. You're a smart kid, after all."

"Thanks. I get it from my Dad."

"You're a rascal, Charlie," Mum giggled, smacking my back with high spirits. I pretended like it didn't make me wince, or that she wasn't stronger than she looked sometimes. "A right scallywag."

"Leave your insults in the dark ages where they belong, Mum," I said, rolling my eyes, but broke into a smile regardless.

She stood up and clapped her hands together; something she often did when saying something resolute. "Right," she said. "Washing, dinner, then bed. Come help me bring the clothes in for starters, there's supposed to be a storm soon."

"Alright," I agreed, following her out.

-

By the time I took myself to bed, I was surprised to find how tired I'd gotten. I barely jumped in and out of the shower before climbing under my covers, still sopping wet. Mum would have clipped me round the ears if she knew, but I was too buggered to care. Thoughts of Aubrey kept popping up in my head, first in passing, and then settling themselves in comfortably as if that's where they belonged all along.

The more I pictured him, the more warped that image became. More beautiful, actually, but warped in the sense that he was almost unrecognizable to me now.

No longer was he the brusque, pouty, moody teenaged delinquent; but vulnerable. Maybe scared, even. And that thought made my stomach turn. Part of me wanted to go back in time and ensure this never happened. The other part felt broken to think he was alone in a silent world. It was like I wanted to take his hands and lead him out of his dark place.

Was that me just trying to be a hero; to look cool? Probably. But did my heart physically ache at the thought of him being hurt because of me now? Definitely.

And as for that part about him being part blind?

I squinted my eyes, watching my vision blur and fade a little beneath my lashes. It didn't look all that peculiar, so I wasn't sure that was it. Instead, I closed one eye and stared at the ceiling. I opened it and closed the other one, switching them back and forth a few times. My ceiling was made up of square tiles. Focusing on a single line, I'd blink open and closed each eye, watching that line move left and right each time.

I put one hand over my right eye and lifted the other, pretending to touch the line. When my finger was on the crack, I switched eyes, seeing it was completely off the mark. Was that what it was like for Aubrey? Was that why he couldn't grasp that pencil? My heart physically ached, so much that it could burst from this horrendous guilt I was being overcome with. If I could wrap him in my arms and cuddle him then I'd probably do just that.

Aubrey Keats, I'd do my best to understand you and your world as much as I could from now on. If that made a difference, any at all, then I'd do it.

No matter what.

-

After a full night of restless sleep, I ended up waking far earlier than intended. Unable to do much of anything about anything from home, I came to school early to use the computer room instead. Ben would meet me here any minute and we'd start some more planning and scheming to get him the girl.

So, to move things along faster, I settled down at a desk and got to work.

There were a few early birds in here with me, making my endeavor somewhat of a highly conscious one. My attention constantly heightened at the quiet rustling of pages turning, keyboards typing, and computer mice clicking and scrolling. There were a few whispers, too, as I saw their subtle glances flickering to me here and there. I heard Aubrey's name uttered with vague undertones of condescension or pity, but all I could do was ignore it.

Taking Mr. Hardy's advice on board was the best I could do. And the quicker I got this done, the quicker I could return to class to admire that stud, Mr. Hardy.

But that was only an afterthought.

It was time to get more studies done to impress Mr. Sex-God Hardy. I rolled my shoulders, stretched my neck side to side, then hunched over to get to work.

The fact that I was so quickly wrong about Hellen Keller made me decide to look into her first. Several links appeared, but I opted to skip to the images where I could determine who I was dealing with first. Some of the images were of a very young and pretty girl. Maybe it was her smile, in which I could sense a great deal of happiness.

Especially as she held onto what appeared to be an Oscar trophy. She won an Oscar? For being deaf and blind? I switched back to the article links and perused the sites, scanning key bits of information. The words at sea in a dense fog flitted down and off the screen, making me scroll back up to find it.

Scanning the text, I read that she'd lost her sight and hearing after a suspected case of scarlet fever or meningitis. This happened when she was only nineteen months old. She learned to hear and speak by touch with the help of her companion Ann Sullivan, who later died at her side. Helen wrote books. She gave speeches and lectures. Her messages spread positivity and a zest for life.

She'd even been memorialized at the Alabama Women's Hall of Fame. Did someone that crazily talented truly exist? I was in awe...

Aubrey popped into my head, and so I found myself comparing them in some ways. Helen looked so gentle in her photos, and yet her biography showed that she was feisty as a child. The permanent fixture of a scowl on Aubrey's face suddenly changed meaning. Rather than cold and stoic, he might've just been as frustrated as she was. I felt sure they both suffered so much more than that, but I didn't know what else. I couldn't pretend to imagine it.

But I wanted to learn.