As weird as it sounds, he's used to children staring at him. His friends call it "The Reid Effect". For some reason children are just drawn to him. He doesn't understand it. They always come to him and ask blunt questions, pulling on his sleeve with sticky fingers and he doesn't know what to do when it happens. That's why he avoids children when he can. And even if he comes to one he can't escape, he's devised a way to make them lose interest.

Right now, he's staying as still as possible. Usually that does it.

But this child is relentless.

By this point (this kid has literally been staring at him for nearly ten minutes), Reid has been pushed to the point of sweating. He pulls at his sweater vest, trying to loosen up the tightness near his throat and trying to get rid of the suffocating feeling and really, Spencer, who wears a sweater vest when it is 86 degrees outside.

He knows the usual "Staring Age" is between 2-5 years old, but this boy is around seven or eight, making everything just that much more strange.

He swivels his chair around, his back towards the child now. Honestly, he's beginning to resent whoever the child's parents were because they brought him into Reid's workspace and making Reid squirmy and uncomfortable. He can feel the child's eyes on his back even now. A drop of sweat drips from his forehead and onto a file he had been working on and that's when he snaps.

Reid quickly swivels back and is met face-to-face with the child. Apparently the boy had stepped closer and looked about ready to poke Reid on the shoulder.

"Is the person responsible for you in this building right now?" Reid questions. He hears the irritation and malice in his voice; surely the child does, too.

The boy blinks once, twice, and right as Reid is about to give up, "My mom said to wait here. S'in a meeting with a blonde lady."

"JJ?"

The boy shrugs, a bored expression on his face. "I guess. I don't know. Didn't ask. Wasn't important."

"Why have you been staring at me?" Reid blurts, unable to keep the question in any longer.

The boy doesn't skip a beat. "You read that book really fast. Can you teach me?"

Reid shakes his head. "I can't. It's not something that can be taught, it's just something my brain does on its own."

"Oh." The boy turns his head toward the floor. "'Kay."

"But . . ."

Reid winces as the boy's head quickly snaps up back to him. He should've just let it go, let the boy walk away dejected. But the boy's face stirs something in Reid and, before he can stop himself, Reid is giving him advice.

The boy grins as Reid continues.

"If you read at least a page or two of a book above your reading level everyday, you'll not only start reading faster, but you'll learn a lot of different words. And maybe then you'll be able to form full sentences, not just fragments."

On the other side of the wall that separates his cubicle from Reid's, Derek Morgan chuckles. "Reid, the kid's, like, eight."

There is a brief moment of silence before, "That's no excuse for bad grammar, Morgan."

This is just a little something I slapped together in an hour or so to try and overcome writer's block and my sudden inability to finish things. Please review! Thanks. :)

-Hope