These Eyes Are Blind

"Mom, I will be okay. Why must you treat me like a child?" Frank asks.

"You are my child. I just want you to be safe, Frank."

"No, you want me to be treated differently from everyone else. I understand I have a condition, but I still have to try and live normally in the real world. I can't do that with you always babysitting me."

Frank's mother slips his book bag on over his shoulder, and then turns him back towards her to fix his jacket. Frank protests, trying to push her away.

"I just don't wanna see you hurt," she says.

"I'm going to get hurt whether you like it or not. Not always physical either. Words hurt too, and you can't protect me from that."

"I can if I lock you up in the basement," she points out.

"That's fucking creepy, mom."

"Where do you think you get your creepy from?" she says, and Frank hears the smile in her voice. Frank laughs and shakes his head at his mom. He slips his glasses on and reaches for the door handle.

"Are you going to let me do this on my own or not?"

"Because I love you enough to give you what you want, I will let you go this time, but Frank, I promise if you end up hurt, you'll never have that freedom again," she says strongly.

"We'll see about that. You said those same words before, but I always persuade you. Like right now."

Frank opens the door and steps out into the morning air.

"Get in the car," she tells him.

Frank chuckles and shakes his head, "I don't think so. See you after school mom."

"Can I have the privilege of picking you up?"

"No you may not. Love you. Bye."

“You know I’m going to watch you from the window, right?” She asks.

“I figured,” Frank shrugs, “Do what you must, but if you come out to baby me like my first day of kindergarten, I will get really pissed.”

“Just go, or you’ll be late,” she says rolling her eyes. “You’ll want to go down the street and then to your right. I think there are a few other people there already.”

“Got it,” Frank says. He turns around to walk down the driveway, and perks his ears out to listen for any cars. He has to wait until he hears a car come down the street for him to figure out where he’s supposed to walk in the first place. Once a car passes, he figures out approximately where the curb is, and lets his cane train on it to guide him.

Frank doesn’t actually know where to stop, but he assumes, as it is a school bus stop, that he’ll figure it out. The snow from the other day didn’t stick to the ground which is probably the only reason his mom let him go. When there’s actual snow and ice, it won’t be so easy to convince her. Frank is pretty persistent though.

Frank has to listen for any cars whenever he steps in front of a driveway, and he knows where the driveways are because the curb stops for a little while. Frank doesn’t know when he’s supposed to stop at the bus stop yet though. He should be able to remember the way once he finds it once or twice. He can just count the number of steps it takes.

He’s tipped off when he hears someone shout at him from not too far away, “Yo dude, are you blind?”

“What? Me? Blind? Hell no,” Frank says, “My vision is clear as day. That’s why I walk with a cane and wear sunglasses everywhere.”

Frank wants to keep whomever it is talking, so that he can follow their voice to where he’s supposed to stop. It sounded like a teenage boy which is a good indicator.

“So you’re blind,” a different voice says, a female voice.

“My, you are very intuitive aren’t you? I’ve never understood the human need to state the obvious,” Frank groans.

“If you’re blind than why are you going on the school bus?”

“Because my hovercraft is in repair,” Frank says, and he stops in front of what he’s guessing is either two or three people. One is a boy and one a girl, and if there’s more than that, they haven’t talked yet.

“No but shouldn’t you go to, like, a special school?” the girl asks.

“Aww, you think I’m special,” Frank says sarcastically, “well thanks.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know it wasn’t. Sense the tone,” Frank says, and he wants so direly to roll his eyes at her, “I’m blind, I’m not inhuman. I can go to a regular school, but thanks for the attitude.”

“You’re the one with the attitude,” the male voice says.

“I never denied that,” Frank says, and he stands slackly by the other two. He’s looking at where he thinks they are but it’s harder to tell because it’s outside. Sound carries differently outside than it does indoors.

Frank can feel the other people’s decision to become quiet, and he smirks. Apparently he’s already made a few people wary of him, which is his goal in most endeavors. Frank is lonely sure, but he also likes to be sarcastic. It drives people away, which is his own fault, but he doesn’t care enough to stop because that would spoil the fun.

They stand there for what seems like forever, but is actually another five minutes, before Frank's ears perk up to the sound of the bus approaching. He hears it before the other people there, and he stands up a little straighter, making sure he’s not in the way of it.

He hears the bus come to a stop and waits until he hears a kid’s footsteps on the bus steps. He shifts a little, but isn't too sure where to go, because the bus is too bright for him to see, despite how huge it is.

"Hey, move a little to your left and walk forward," the girl speaks out. Frank’s wary of her helpfulness.

"How do I know you're not just waiting for me to smack into the bus?"

"She’s not, just do as the girl says so we can get on with this," the voice of an older man says.

"And who are you?"

“The person who will close these doors and go on without you. Now come on kid,” he says. Frank decides that’s the bus driver.

Frank hesitates before he decides he doesn't want to have to go back and tell his mom that he chickened out getting on a bus. He'd never live it down, and he'd surely be in her car the next day and every day after. Frank takes the steps forward as he was told. There’s a gap between the first step on the bus and the ground. It’s bigger than on a normal stairwell so he has to be more careful about it. Frank steps up and his foot slides off the step on his first try. He hears a few giggles from the people probably in the front seat, and he mentally rolls his eyes.

"I can tell we're all gonna be great friends," Frank says sarcastically.

"Why would we wanna be your friend?"

"It's called sarcasm you unintelligent buffoons."

Frank successfully makes it up the steps and starts walking down the aisle.

Once the rest of the people on the bus see him it quiets down a little bit. For one thing, he’s the new kid starting a few months after school started. For another thing, he’s the blind kid, which makes him a carnival attraction.

Frank doesn't exactly know where to sit since he can't see where everyone is. He keeps heading for the back of the bus, hoping he's the only one who actually wants to be back there, therefore leaving the seats empty. He trips on someone's foot and laughter breaks out in the bus. He catches his balance on one of the seats and straightens himself up.

"Your mother must be so proud of you," Frank says to whomever tripped him.

"About as proud as yours is of you."

"Oh, I don't think she's that proud," Frank replies.

"Flake off," is the response, and Frank has to wonder how old they are if they use a term so childish.

Frank feels the bus lurch and soon they’re in motion. He decides to stand still until the bus comes to a stop.

"What's wrong, can't walk while the bus is moving?" someone calls out in the distance, and Frank's head turns in that direction. Lucky for him the person is wearing red and sitting near the window, which is shining in quite enough light for Frank to see him.

"I can walk I just choose not to. Just like you choose not to mind your damn business."

"Language!" the bus driver calls out.

"So I get reprimanded for my language, but it’s perfectly acceptable to bully the blind guy? This society is clearly fucked up," Frank puts emphasis on the curse word and grips the seat tighter as he feels the bus stop suddenly.

He begins walking again and decides to take the first seat he feels is empty. He sits down and moves over until he is near the window. Frank doesn't want to have to stand up so someone else can scoot by and sit down.

Frank takes up as much of his seat as he can to make people know that they’re not welcome to sit next to him. He collapses his cane and holds it in his lap, ready to smack someone with it if they bother him. He hears people all around whispering about him, and he just frowns at how horribly bad they are at covering up their whispering.

He can feel several sets of eyes on him for a few minutes, but they soon start to look elsewhere. He’s sure he’s still got a few people staring at him still, but right now it doesn’t seem too bad. He’s not sure how long the bus route is, nor how many stops there are but he counts them so that he knows when to get off in the afternoon. He counts three when the bus stops again, and it’s starting to fill up. Frank is aware of someone in front of him, and there’s also someone across from him, and behind him. He isn’t actually sure how far back on the bus he is, but he assumes he’s not in the very back at least.

There’s the sound of a bunch of people filing onto the bus, and Frank tries to look as grumpy and unfriendly as he can, but he’s not sure what his face looks like.

“Excuse me,” someone says, “is anyone sitting there?”

“Yes,” Frank says, “I am.”

“Well there’s room for two people on one seat,” he says.

“No this is where my ego sits,” Frank says, “I’m here, but I need room for my charisma which is bursting with arrogance.”

“You can’t be that full of yourself,” the guy says, “surely if you’re that conceited, it would only take up half of the seat, so there’s room for someone else to sit down.”

“You haven’t a clue how vain I really am.”

“Vain or not, may I please sit?”

“I’m not going to convince you to go away, am I?” Frank asks.

“Well, I mean, if you don’t want me to sit there, then I won’t, but there’s like nowhere else to go.”

“Ugh,” Frank groans, and then moves his bag over a little bit to allow for someone to sit down. He keeps the bag between him and the guy who’d asked to sit, but he can still tell he sat down.

“Are you new?” the guy asks.

“I am,” Frank says.

“Oh, well, hey there.”

“Hi.”

“You’re not the most talkative guy in the world, are you? What’s your name?” the guy asks, and Frank groans.

“I don’t have a name,” Frank says, “or at least I don’t have a name that I’m going to hand out so freely.”

“I’m Patrick,” he says and Frank hears the rustling around that would suggest he’s holding his hand out for Frank to shake, but he declines to do so.

“That’s nice.”

“I was kind of thinking we could make that a tradeoff or something. I gave you my name, so you can give me yours,” Patrick says.

“That’s how conversation traditionally progresses isn’t it? Well bad luck for you, because I’m not traditional.”

“Are you really not going to tell me your name?” Patrick asks.

“I don’t trust people as a principle,” Frank says.

“That’s kind of ridiculous, but I’m not going to argue with a guy I just met. I mean, I’m not going to be mean to you or anything. What would I gain from ruining your first day at school? Besides, if I wanted to pick on you, I wouldn’t need to ask your name,” Patrick says.

“Why would I be afraid of you picking on me?”

“Because right now, you don’t look like the most popular guy on the bus,” Patrick says, “but I’ll give you credit for pissing off a couple of guys before you’ve even started your first day.”

“Have I really?” Frank asks, straightening up in his seat with a little smile, “how many?”

“That’s what makes you happy?” Patrick asks.

“Somewhat,” Frank says, “I may not be Mr. Popular, but that makes you even less than I am, because you got stuck sitting next to me.”

“Good eye,” Patrick says, and Frank snorts.

“What’d I say?” Patrick asks. Frank lifts up his sunglasses and turns in Patrick’s direction to show him the milky quality of the irises underneath.

“I think you’ll find that my eyes are the opposite of good,” Frank tells him.

Patrick doesn’t seem to have that all that much of a reaction, which kind of bums Frank out. He’d kind of been expecting some big gasp and then maybe Patrick would fall out of his seat, which would be one of his favorite reactions.

“So you don’t trust people because you can’t see them?” Patrick asks.

“No. I don’t trust people because my life experiences would suggest that most people are untrustworthy, and you can’t really gripe with statistics that substantial.”

“Well look, you said it yourself. Do you really think that the guy who didn’t have anywhere to sit and had to settle for the back next to the new guy, is the most popular guy in school who will pick on you? But if you have some vendetta against telling people your name because of the outcome that follows, then fine. Don’t tell me.”

“Poor Patrick,” Frank says, “But I guess you’re right. If you make me regret talking to you though I’ll eviscerate you.”

“I’ve never known anyone who apologizes by threatening someone with evisceration.”

“Well now you know me,” Frank says, “I’m Frank.”

“Frank the cynical new kid,” Patrick says, “You’re going to have a really great first day.”

“I’m planning on it,” Frank replies. “And don’t you forget about my fantastic personality, as well as my insatiable knack for running into fucking everything like a magnet.”

“Language!” Someone screams.

“Fuck you,” Frank yells back and raises his middle finger up high. “What kind of school bus regulates fucking swearing anyway?”

“Well,” Patrick shrugs, “Welcome to hell.”