John felt hot tears well up on his eyes. He looked down that the book in front of him. The font was big, and letters where bold, and he knew it was supposed to be easy, but to him the letters made no sense. They were just lines a squiggles dancing around the page.

He swallowed. "Just take your time," John thought, remembering his mother's words when she had tried to teach him to read from his word cards at home.

"John, dear," Mrs. Connell said, tapping her foot. "Where waiting."

"Th-th-th…" John felt the tears spill over and they dropped onto the page that was no more than three inches below his nose. This made it worse. The lines and squiggles danced even more, mocking him.

"Please, Mrs. Connell," a young boy in the front said, raising his hand. "I know how to say it. Please let me say it."

"Denis Lachance," Mrs. Connell said sternly. "I'm asking Mr. Merrill to answer this one. Kindly put down your hand. John, come on. Read out the sentence for me." John looked up into the elderly face of his second grade teacher. She was leaning casually on her desk. Couldn't she see he was crying? Didn't she realize he was dying inside? He thought furiously. His hand clenched on the sides of his desk, as he tried to rein in the familiar bubble of anger that was rising from the pit of his stomach.

"Shut up, you ugly bitch," He spat. Gasps filled the room. Everyone shifted around their chair to face him. All accept the dark haired boy who had raised his hand, who sat waiting for Mrs. Connells reaction while biting his lip.

Mrs. Connell's face fell momentarily. Then she hitched it back up and simply said, "Outside, now." This was music to John's ears. He raced out of the suffocating classroom. While he listened to his teacher telling the class to read to the end of the page while she spoke to 'Mr. Merrill' outside, John tried to push away an ugly thought that kept trying to surface. He had been as shocked as anyone to hear what had just come out of his mouth. More so, maybe, because he had been the only one in the room that recognized the voice. It had been his fathers.

Beverly Merrill was not listening to a word Hilda Connell was saying. Instead, she was watching her son from the window. He was sitting on the edge of the sand box, dragging a stick through the sand. Waiting for her. How much she wanted to hold him.

"Mrs. Merrill, I don't think you understand what I'm getting at." Hilda was saying, shifting in her chair. "I've been watching your son closely, and I'm quite positive he's dyslexic. I think we need to enter him into another class. A… special class." Beverly's head whipped around.

"You sayin' my son's stupid?" Beverly demanded.

"Not at all, Mrs. Merrill. It's a disease, a disability. Your son can't help it. But it really is holding back my class. It's not fair to the other children" Mrs. Connell gushed.

Beverly was seething. How dare this fat cow suggest her son was retarded? She stood up abruptly. "I won't stand for my boy to be held back cause some ole' bitch fancies playing the physiologist!" Just as she made it to the door, Hilda spoke again.

"It's not just the dyslexia," she stated stubbornly. "Your son constantly fails to control his temper. Three times he has hit another child, and that's only what I know off. Other children are intimidated by him. And his language is disgusting."

"You liar," Beverly spat. "My boy knows not to cuss."

"Quite on the contrary," Mrs. Connell replied smoothly. "Just today he decided it would be hilarious to call me a vile word in front on the whole classroom"

"And what dreadful word would this be?" Beverly inquired mockingly.

"Ugly bitch."

Beverly Merrill's heart sank.

"Hey" a weary voice said. John looked up from the sand box. "What do you want?" John inquired fiercely.

"Nuthin'," Denis Lechance replied. "Mind if I sit?"

John thought about it, and decided he would mind company right now, even if it was a fag like Lachance. "Sure," he grumbled, shifting along the rough wood edge of the sand box. Denny's face glowed. "Thanks," he replied, dumping himself in the newly vacant space next to John. They sat in silence for a while, both watching the end of John's stick gliding through the sand. Finally Denny spoke, and John was surprised and his somber tone.

"Sorry I didn't try harder in class. I tried the get the ole' bat to let me say the stupid sentence so she would lay of you, but she didn't bite the bait."

John's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Why would you do that?" he asked wearily.

"Your cool," Denny shrugged. "And I figured by the way you act that you got enough on your plate, so you don't need some stupid broad botherin' you about 'The Cat Sat On The Mat.' "

John looked down. He should sock the kid in the jaw for talking about what he 'had on his plate'. Denny had no idea. But he was surprised to find he didn't want too.

"Thanks," John muttered roughly. "and- your cool too, I guess."

Denny grinned again and softly punched John on the shoulder. Chuckling, John give Denny a sharp shove that pushed him into the sand pit.

At that moment, John Merrill and Denis Lachance became best friends.