For all that She knew, for all that She imparted, there were some important things that She could not teach Spencer.

Reading was one of those things.

She was still a cat, after all. The Cat. She simply understood the writing She saw, particularly if it was a spell or a ritual, or a language closely associated with magic. Knowing what a thing said did not help Spencer learn how to read it. And they'd both agreed that reading was important for him to learn. There was so much information stored away in books, so much he needed to know to survive in the world as a human, without sharp teeth, claws, or fur.

There were books about traps and shelters, books about edible plants, far away places, and how the world worked. Books about almost anything he could think of. The town had only one small library and one librarian, who was more inclined to ignore his presence than to kick him out. Children's story time occurred twice a week, and Spencer attended it as often as he could, curled up behind the shelves and peeking between the books.

It wasn't enough. Mr. Johnson rarely pointed out which word was which, and Spencer was too far away to see clearly besides. He needed a tutor or someone to at least teach him the basics. He knew the alphabet, but he didn't know how those letters were strung together to make words.

Spencer was going to have to figure out how to approach one of the older kids.

The problem was, he didn't have much he could trade for that kind of help. He couldn't read or write yet, so he wouldn't be able to do anyone's homework for them. And no one was really forward-thinking or trusting enough to be satisfied with his promise to do their homework in the future, once he could read and write, even if they thought he was smart enough to get them a decent grade. He barely got enough food for himself and the other kids always stole his dessert when he had it, so there was no point in offering to trade there.

Spencer thought hard, and there really wasn't much he could offer that any of the other kids would be interested in. The adults had already proven that they wouldn't help him. Mr. Johnson had told him that it would be his teacher's responsibility whenever he began going to school. Mrs. White had said something similar, adding that she didn't have the time for it, especially since he was too young and stupid to learn it quickly.

He lay in bed at night, thinking over each kid in the orphanage and trying to figure out what they wanted, what they needed, and whether he could help with that. At last he decided to try approaching Amy. He remembered listening to her try to memorize the Gettysburg Address, and how often she had needed to return to the textbook when her memory failed her.

Nobody had noticed, but Spencer was very good at remembering things. He couldn't exactly remember for her, of course. But he'd also noticed that she remembered things she heard better than things she read. Maybe Amy had noticed this too, and maybe she hadn't. But none of the other kids were likely to volunteer to help her with something like that either. Very few of them cared about school at all.

He approached her the next day. She scoffed, of course. "Like you could remember any part of the speech, never mind all of it," Amy sneered.

Spencer just looked at her as he called to mind every instance he was present when she practiced the Gettysburg Address. When he spoke, he even mimicked the speed and cadence of her recitations, since that made it a little easier. "Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth, on this continent, a new nation, conceived in liberty..." He continued for several more lines, concentrating hard enough that he didn't notice as Amy grew paler.

She interrupted him by shoving him hard and shouting, "Freak!"

It spread quickly. The others soon added 'Copycat' and 'Parrot' to the names that they called him. And when she saw him at lunch, Mrs. White just looked at him with loathing that couldn't quite disguise her fear of his abilities.

Amy did take him up on his offer in the end. He trailed her, prompting and repeating whatever she needed to memorize, and ignored the names he was called and the careless abuse directed his way, the way he was still shut out of their games but expected to remain on the outskirts instead of leaving. In return, after school let out she would sit down with him for a little while to go over the alphabet. He practiced copying the letters while she was at school, and she would teach him the sounds they made, and how to string them together into simple words. Understandably, she wasn't a very good teacher. But Spencer's unnatural memory helped him to catch on quickly, regardless. Before she got too bored and cut him loose, he had quite a good foundation from which to begin. Enough to teach himself more complicated words, with the incredibly useful help of a dictionary.

It was all more than worth it to be able to read. To at last have a chance to learn everything he would need to survive, and perhaps even thrive, with his weak human body.

To have a chance to read whatever records the orphanage had regarding his past.