Hi! New story I know, don't kill me.
This is precanon. This is even pre Minnesota Memoir.
This is Logan in Texas.
Though, I'll have to call him Hortense.
That will suck! But I'll get through it!
AND MOST IMPORTANTLY
THE ONLY REASON I AM DOING THIS
IS
FOR
not.skipper.but.shipper
and our one month friendship anniversary
so read on! Enjoy!
The title will make sense later!
-
Mary Anne Alder. Mary Katherine Adams. Mary Elizabeth Brewer. Mary Alice Edwards. Mary Josephine Foster.
Joseph Allen. Joseph Woods. Joseph Young.
Elizabeth Foster. Elizabeth Baxter. Elizabeth Young.
Katherine Rowe. Katherine Wells.
William Rowe. William Parsons.
Margaret Alder. Margaret Adams.
Richard Brewer. Richard Baxter.
Robert Baxter. Robert Foster.
Jeremiah Hill. Jeremiah Jones.
The data he had collected from the kindergarten roster (anyone who was four or five or even six could be in kindergarten too, here, which didn't seem fair because it made the student teacher ratio unreasonably high, he thought): five variations of Mary. Three Josephs. Three Elizabeths. Two Katherines. Two Williams. Two Margarets. Two Richards. Two Roberts. Two Jeremiahs.
And that left Bailey Baker, who everybody liked.
And it left him, Hortense Mitchell, who nobody liked at all.
Twenty five children. Twenty four of which either had a matching name, a matching person, or at least a friend.
One of which had none of those things.
He was the one who had none of these things.
He didn't even have a normal name.
Everybody teased him for it, saying it sounded like 'wart' which it did.
It was better not to say his name at all. So he didn't.
He didn't say anything at all.
He just sat in the corner of the room, by the round table too high for him to reach the telephone, and the roster tacked up to the wall, which he read and recited.
He had been doing it for the week he had been stuck here. Because his mother said he needed to go to school but it's not like he was old enough for real school. He was four.
He would be five in February. It was currently September.
And for each passing day of September since September fifth, he has stood by the roster and read it. Recited it.
Patterns were okay. Sometimes they were fun.
At least it gave him something to do because nobody bothered to be his friend.
It didn't matter that he could count to one hundred and some of the other kids couldn't even count with their fingers. It didn't matter that he could read at least the big title letters, sometimes it hurt to look at the small letters. His classmates couldn't do that.
He was smart.
His classmates could read their own names, maybe. But everyone except the Marys had shortened theirs. Nicknames.
Hortense knew he was the only one, by far, that could write out his full name.
Hortense Logan Mitchell.
Because he was easily the smartest at the little daycare his mother had forced him to go to.
He cried leaving her.
That was stupid.
At least at school he didn't have to see his father. His father came home later nowadays.
And he was scary, so school was better.
Maybe Bailey could write out her own name too, but he had never seen her do it. She always turns the paper away and covers it with her hand when she is forced to sit next to him, when he is forced to come away from the round table with the phone and the roster, and actually do work he's too smart for.
Bailey always blushes and giggles. She never finishes on time, because it's a timed exercise. Although it doesn't look like she's drawing letters. One time she didn't cover the paper and he saw a heart.
Hearts were not letters. They were not a part of the alphabet.
Hortense would know because he's also probably the only one who can recite the alphabet.
Without the song.
Hortense should be winning the timed exercise of writing out his name, but he doesn't, because Bailey spends so much time on her paper that he thinks he has to as well. But he doesn't draw hearts, he just traces over the letters so much that the paper doesn't feel like paper after a while, and his hand hurts from writing so much.
Come to think of it, he had seen Mary Katherine write out her full first name, except she was too stupid to write Katherine out in full, so she wrote Mary Kate even though that wasn't her name.
She keeps winning the timed exercise when she shouldn't be, because she's too dumb to spell Katherine.
He said that to her once, and tried to explain that Katherine is only six more letters than Kate, and she should just try harder. And then she started to cry and he had to apologize.
So now he doesn't talk and stays by the phone, except this time he wasn't allowed, he had to go sit down with the other four, five and six year olds to deal with circle time, in which everyone sat in a circle but nobody sat next to him, so he sat on the outside. Bailey usually looked at him from across the circle and tried to whisper but he didn't hear and he didn't care.
Circle time meant they all got in a circle. Hortense assumed his regular position at the edge of the carpet away from everyone instead. Everyone else was instructed to be quiet as the teacher led them in prayer.
And they crossed themselves, and grabbed each other's hands.
Hands were gross and sticky so Hortense didn't really care at this point that nobody actually dared to grab his. It had been going on since he ever got to the church school. When he had been three.
He tugs on the tie around his neck while everyone bows their heads and prays. The prayer is over.
It is now time to read.
The teacher will read aloud a chapter from the picture Bible, even though Hortense can already read by himself and knows all the stories.
They are read in the same order, mostly, every year. So that's okay, because it has order and a routine.
The teacher does not read aloud from the picture Bible. This is a deviation from the routine and the only reason he is upset about that is because it messes up the future routine—would they have to read today's story tomorrow? Or two tomorrow?
And also no one talked and no one was mean to him when they were listening to the teacher read.
Hortense didn't mind the stories. He thought they were a little weird but it made more sense listening to the teacher than when he had to listen in real church. Real church was bad because his father always got mad at him.
The teacher tells everyone to pair up and take a Bible from the bookshelf.
This is not going to work because there is not enough people for everyone to have a partner.
He will be the one left without a partner. So he gets a Bible, the once with the super small print that makes his eyes ache, and opens it to read.
Mary Katherine who is stupid, Margaret Alder who is illiterate, and Katherine Wells who talks with a high voice, have grouped together. That's three. They are breaking the rules.
But Hortense knows nobody cares, because they are the three oldest, almost six. They are best friends.
He does not realize that Bailey Baker is beside him until she starts reading the words aloud. He is reading in his head.
Jeremiah Hill looks over at them. "Bailey, don't sit next to Wart-tense."
"Why not?" Bailey asks.
"Because," Jeremiah says like she is stupid and like Hortense is stupid even though he is not, "you can't even give him cooties. You'll just get Robot disease."
Robot disease cannot be real because robots are made of metal which do not have an immune system.
"I'll be a robot," Bailey decides, "I like robots."
Jeremiah shrugs. "Yeah, but you won't like it when you are one. Bobby said you start turning into one if you sit next to him."
Hortense sighed.
"And if you talk to him, your brain becomes metal."
Brains don't become metal.
"And if you touch him, it's too late, you're already a robot."
Bailey kisses his cheek.
The next day she is late to school.
"Warty turned Bailey into a robot," Jeremiah explains to anyone who would listen. "So she'll never come back."
She came back.
Jeremiah said a bad word at Hortense when she did.
-
Okay so I know you knew about this but did you like it!
This is your first surprise, not.skipper.but.shipper
but happy one month friendship anniversary!