The next morning, Crutchie walked into Photography class. He sat down in his usual seat, towards the back of the room. Usually, there was no one in the seat next to him. No one usually sat next to the boy with the crutch. But this time, there was someone there.
"Oh. Hi." He said, seeing that it was Davey. "I didn't realize you were in this class."
"Yeah, I was pretty good back at my old school." He shrugged, then looked around the room. A lot of photographs were displayed on the walls, many of them were pictures Crutchie had taken. "Though, not as good as you." He added.
"Nah, I'm not that great." Crutchie shrugged.
"Oh really? Most of these pictures are yours. And, they look amazing."
Crutchie smiled slightly. "Thanks, I guess." He looked away, trying to hide the fact that his face was a little red. "So, uh, you do photography too?" He asked.
"Yeah, I do. Mostly just as a hobby though."
"Photography is pretty much the only thing I can do." He shrugged, but smiled a little.
"That can't be true. I'm sure there's plenty a guy with a bad leg can do. Sure, you can't do sports, but there are academic things you can do."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. There's painting, drawing, writing…" Davey shrugged. "You don't need to have two working legs for those, just a little imagination."
"Yeah, well, my buddy Jack does the painting and drawing, not me. And writing… Writing's not really my thing." Crutchie said quietly, not wishing to expand on his statement.
"Oh… Why not?"
"It just isn't, okay? I'm not a good writer."
"Oh, yeah, I guess it's not for everybody…" Davey nodded. He could sense that the other boy didn't want to talk about it and stayed quiet. Neither of them spoke again for the rest of the class. They didn't have any more classes together until after lunch. When the bell rang for lunch, Crutchie went over to sit with Elmer.
"So, how was Photography? Davey told me you were in his class." the sandy-haired boy said. Crutchie shrugged.
"It was alright. We didn't talk much. It was nice to have a friend in my class, though." he said, taking a bite of his sandwich. Elmer grinned at him.
"What?" Crutchie asked.
"You like him."
"I do not!"
"Yes, you do! I can tell."
"Oh really? And what do you know about dating? Your motto is, 'I'm single, and not by choice.' You've never been on a date in your life!"
"So? I don't have to have been on a date to know what it looks like when a person likes someone. For one thing, when I mentioned him, you immediately got defensive and started blushing."
"What? No!"
"See? There it is! You're about as red as a tomato!" Elmer laughed.
"Okay, fine. So maybe I do like him. Elm, he's in my English class. What if he finds out?" Crutchie replied, putting emphasis on the words "English class".
"Finds out what?"
"You know…"
"Oh. Right. Crutchie, even if he did find out, he's not gonna like you any less. You're still really smart. Besides, Davey is really nice. He'd never judge you because of something so small." Elmer said, being serious for once.
"I hope you're right, Elmer. I hope you're right." Crutchie sighed.
After lunch, Crutchie walked to English, dreading seeing Davey. Of course, the teacher had seated the two of them next to each other, so he really couldn't avoid talking to him. The teacher gave them all copies of the first book of the year. They were to start reading right away. Crutchie was still on the first page after almost twenty minutes.
"Everything okay?" Davey asked quietly, wondering if something was wrong.
"Huh? Oh, yeah, I'm alright… Just, uh, a slow reader." Crutchie muttered.
"Oh, okay…" he replied. "Well, if you ever want help or anything… I'd be more than happy to-"
"I don't need help." Crutchie snapped, cutting him off. He looked away. "Sorry, I just…"
"It's okay, don't worry…" Davey said. The older boy felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Oscar Delancey sitting behind him. "What?"
"You can't help the crip." Oscar smirked, his New York accent very thick.
"First of all, why not? Secondly, don't call him a crip, that's not nice." Davey replied. Crutchie's eyes widened, looking at both of them. There was no way he was going to be able to stop Davey from finding out now, Oscar would stop at nothing to make Crutchie embarrassed. Oscar rolled his eyes.
"What, ya didn't know? Most everyone does, I'm surprised he didn't tell ya himself."
"Tell me what?" Davey asked uncertainly.
"Oscar, don't-" Crutchie said quietly.
"He's gotta find out sometime, Crutchie." Oscar said, then turned back to Davey. "See, the crip ain't just a crip. He's got, uh, some readin' problem. What's it called again?" He said.
"Dyslexia…" Crutchie muttered.
"Oh yeah. That. The kid's dyslexic. You couldn't teach him to read if you tried." Oscar explained. Before anything else could be said, the teacher made Oscar sit by himself for talking in class. Once Oscar had left, Davey looked at Crutchie.
"Are you really? Dyslexic, I mean…" He asked. Crutchie nodded.
"Yeah. Just about everybody knows, I dunno why I tried to keep it a secret… But he's right, you wouldn't be able to teach me if you tried."
"I don't know, I think I could. I've known plenty of dyslexic people and they learned how to read. They just needed a little encouragement." Davey explained.
"Really?" Crutchie said, with a slight smile.
"Really. And I'll help you if you want."
"I… I'd like that." Crutchie nodded, smiling.