August 5th, 1984.
13
"Hello Eleven." A soft voice greets my ears and my mattress dips ever so slightly. I scramble to the corner of the cot and turn to stare at whoever has woken me.
"Mike." I whisper. What is he doing here? I clutch my knees to my chest.
"Hi El. I'm going to be your tutor." He smiles at me.
I look at him. I don't know that word.
"I'm going to teach you things. Like, words, and numbers and stuff. To help you with your missions." I nod. He is here to help me learn. But not what Papa teaches me. I know it can't be the same. Mike is all soft where Papa is hard. I haven't know this warm boy for long, but I can tell that much about him.
"Would you come sit next to me?" He asks me. I eye him warily. Can I really trust him?
"Okay." I release my legs and scoot over next to him. I can feel heat emanating from his body and I shudder slightly. I am always so cold that his warmth makes me feel very odd.
"Do you know letters?" He points to a bunch of shapes on a piece of paper. I untense slightly. I see these all the time.
"Papa use them." I tell him.
"That's right. Well, these are letters and if you put them together they form words. You can write them, like this," He takes out a clicky pen and copies one of the shapes onto the paper, "and they represent sounds, which are what we use when we talk."
"Okay." I say. That makes sense.
"So the letters are organized in this system called the alphabet…" Mike begins to explain all about words, vowels and consonants to me. I soak up the knowledge. It's exciting. And he doesn't talk to me like I don't understand. He speaks like I'm someone important, someone special.
I like him.