These Eyes Are Blind

“How old are you then?”

“How old do I look?” Frank asks.

“I don’t know,” Patrick says, “how am I supposed to answer that?”

“Well, the thing is that I don’t know what I look like, so that was a real question that I was hoping to get an answer to,” Frank says.

“Right then. I don’t know, maybe seventeen?”

“Close. Eighteen.”

“So we’re in the same grade. I might see you around,” Patrick says.

“Well you’ll be seeing me, but I’m certainly not going to be seeing you.”

“You’re going to need a lot of help getting around though since we don’t have any blind students here,” Patrick says.

“Really? None? How diverse,” Frank says.

“Well it’s not the richest town in the world if you hadn’t noticed,” Patrick says, “and not the biggest either.”

“Dandy. This will be fun,” Frank says blandly.

“Well I’ll help you out.”

Frank scoffs and turns his head to face out the window likes he’s looking outside. He wishes he could. Wishes he could see the texture of the leaves passing by the moving bus, or the cracked asphalt in need of repaving.

“Do you not want my help? I’m offering it to you, but if you’re going to be mister ‘I can do everything on my own’ on me, than I won’t. Frank, I’m not trying to piss you off. I just don’t want you to have to go through your first day without knowing what the hell you’re doing,” Patrick says.

“You don’t have a lot of friends do you?” Frank asks.

“What?”

“You don’t have many friends. Either you’re a complete and utter dick who’s hanging out with me so that you can find ammunition to shoot me with later, or you’re in desperate need of friends and are hoping the cripple will be good enough.”

Patrick makes a dejected sound, “I’m not some big hotshot here, no, but I don’t need to be nice to you, Frank. I’m kind of insulted by the way you think I’m out to get you.”

“Everyone’s out to get me.”

“Who wronged you that made you think that way?” Patrick asks.

“A more appropriate question would be, who hasn’t wronged me?”

“The world isn’t great, I know that much, but you talk like everyone you’ve ever met was a bad person when that can’t be the case. A lot of people are full of crap, but there’s equally as many people who aren’t,” Patrick says.

“Well, you may be right, but I’ll tell you one thing,” Frank says, “there may be good people in the world, but one place you’re not going to find them is in the zombie oriented halls of public school. Being a good person in there makes you the anomaly, not the other way around.”

“You’re so negative. Honestly, it sounds like you use sarcasm more as a defense mechanism for insecurity than for anything else.”

“No,” Frank frowns, “I’m just a jackass who likes to piss people off.”

“That’ll be a good strategy for making friends,” Patrick says, “though I guess that’s somewhat of a hypocritical statement.”

“Don’t think I’m your friend just because I told you my name, Patrick. I don’t trust people, I told you that. I don’t trust you either. I don’t care how few friends you have or how unpopular you are, rottenness comes in all walks of life.”

“Well someone made you think like that. Who?”

Frank sighs, “I haven’t always been blind, Patrick. It’s not my fault that I am either. That’s why I don’t trust people. If it weren’t for other people, I’d still be able to see. I’d be regular. Ordinary. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to be. But I lost that. So forgive me if I don’t greet you with open arms and a big smile on my face, okay?”

Patrick doesn’t respond immediately as the bus comes to a halt, assumingly in front of the school.

“So is that all people are then?” Patrick asks, “Potential threats who just haven’t hurt you yet?”

“I’m a cynic,” Frank says, “And I accept that, but the world is full of a lot of messed up people, so I have to think this way. Everyone else has an edge on me, which leaves me pretty vulnerable. I refuse to be seen as vulnerable though.”

“Well I guess that’s what makes you who you are,” Patrick says, and Frank is aware of him standing up, so he assumes that he’s now going to have to try to get off the bus.

All in all, it’s not too hard. Patrick tells him to grab onto his shoulder so he knows when to stop so as not to run into him. As it turns out, Patrick is short as fuck. Getting into the school is pretty uneventful, but Frank can tell that all eyes are on him. Patrick helps him into the school and to the office to get his roster. Frank doesn't exactly want Patrick tagging along like they’re new best friends, but he has to admit the help is much needed and appreciated. Now they’re standing at his locker and Frank is trying to figure out why they use the kinds of locks that they do in school settings.

“This school is incredibly poor,” Frank says.

“Poor as in having little money?” Patrick asks.

“Yes.”

“What makes you say that? You’re right, but how do you know?”

“Let me guess, they spend all their money on sports teams,” Franks sighs, tinkering with his lock.

Yeah, there are special schools for blind people, but what happens when a blind kid ends up in a regular school, like Frank? How are they supposed to get the lock open if they can't see where to turn and stop? It’s very inconsiderate if you ask Frank, but of course, no one asks the blind kid anything. They should have key pads with braille on them to make things just a little bit easier.

“There’s no attention to anyone with disabilities,” Frank says, “you don’t have any wheelchair ramps, or handicap accessibility of any kind, and I am so not looking forward to those stairs later on. You also don’t have the right type of locks for kids who can’t see the dial turn. You sure as hell aren’t going to have any braille in this whole goddamn school yet.”

“Well, I mean, considering you’re here now, maybe some things will change.”

“Legally they have to,” Frank says, “but it’s not very interesting.”

Eventually, Patrick opens Frank's locker for him and Frank thanks him as nicely as he can muster without puking. It's not that Patrick is a bad guy, because he isn't. He could have left Frank alone with the tedious task of getting around on his first day, but he hasn't done that. Frank just doesn't feel too trusting, especially on his first day of school. This whole thing could be an act. Patrick could be working for them, and by ‘them’ Frank means the assholes that he knows are staring at him right now.

“Do you need help getting to class?” Patrick asks, “I’m running a little late, but I can-”

“Just tell me which way I’m supposed to go then.”

“Alright, so you’re going to want to turn around, go straight forward, and then down the hall. Turn right and it’s the first classroom on your left. You have English first, with Mrs. Bentley, and she usually leaves her door open for the first ten minutes,” Patrick says, “and I’m sorry, but I really do have to go if I don’t want to be late.”

“Bye,” Frank says curtly.

“Okay, will you need my help getting to your next class?” Patrick asks, as he starts walking down the hall. Frank can tell it’s pretty much cleared out for now, so he’s going to be late too probably, but he’s the new kid, and blind.

“No, I’ll ask a teacher if I need the help,” Frank says. Luckily, his schedule has braille written on it which must mean that the school did plan ahead to his arrival a little bit, but he still can’t see room numbers.

“Good luck with that,” Patrick says, “the teachers here don’t care about students. They care about paychecks.”

That’s the last thing Frank hears from Patrick before he turns down the hall, going the opposite way of where Frank intends to be going.

He sighs and turns the direction Patrick had told him, and makes his way down the hall. He puts his cane out in front of him and he can feel the generic cheap tiling under his foot that probably reflects the many broken overhanging lights, but he sees neither of these things. He just makes his way down the hall until he hears a voice carrying out of a classroom. Patrick may actually have given him some good advice.

Frank walks over to the classroom after figuring out where it is, and then he knocks on the open door, so that he can make sure he’s found the right place.

“I’m looking for a Mrs. Bentley’s class,” Frank announces, “Well I say ‘looking’.”

“Frank I assume,” the voice of a teacher says, “you may take a seat.”

“Mhm, and where exactly may I take a seat? Telling me to take a seat means very little.”

“Just find an empty one.”

“I can’t,” Frank says.

“Do as I say,” she says.

“How?”

“You’re wasting my time. Just find a seat and sit in it, I don’t care where.”

“God I love public schools. ‘Find an empty seat.’ that’s like giving me permission to feel up everyone in the room to figure out if there’s a person there or not. In case you hadn’t noticed, I have a detrimental lack of vision that makes it very difficult for me to just find a seat without being told where one is,” Frank says.

“Are you talking back to me?” the teacher asks, “I told you to find a seat.”

“I know you strive to treat everyone the same way, as if we’re all shit eating goats, but really, there are some instances where it is acceptable to show a little compassion and tell the goddamn blind kid where he’s supposed to sit.”

“Excuse me?” the teacher asks.

“Oh did I cross a line? I crossed a line. Oh well, too late now. I just wanted to get the point across to you that I can’t see where to sit down, so telling me to just find an empty seat is like telling a deaf kid to pick the best sounding kazoo.”

“I assume you just came from the office to get your schedule, so you know the way?” The teacher says simply, which is probably just the easiest way for her to tell him he definitely crossed a line and got himself in trouble.

Frank is almost disbelieving of the fact that he’s gotten himself in trouble this quickly. Usually when he got in trouble when he was younger it was for getting beaten up for calling someone a twat. It’s not his fault that everyone at his old school was a twat though.

“Yep,” Frank says, “I think I can make it. Or I’ll just stumble into the girl’s bathroom. You never know if you can’t see where you’re going.”

The teacher makes a noise like she’s considering something, and then says, “Blake, go with him.”

“Why do I have to help the cripple?’

“Cripple is a derogatory term, asshole,” Frank says.

“Office,” the teacher whispers.

“I can already tell this is going to be my favorite class,” Frank says with a grin, as he hears someone’s chair screech backward. He could probably find that chair now that he’s heard it, but he wanted to point out the teacher’s negligence as it was more fun that way.

“The dude was right though,” Frank says, “you teachers here really don’t give a shit about your students. Though I should get a world record for this. This has to be the quickest anyone has ever been sent to the office on their first day. Yay for me.”

The kid who Frank is assuming is named Blake, walks quickly ahead of Frank but not too far. He doesn’t say anything to Frank when he passes him, but at least he does seem to be doing as the teacher asked. Frnak keeps his cane out in front of him as he follows behind this Blake kid like a lost puppy.

"Say dude, what's your deal?" The guy asks. Frank looks at what he assumes would be the back of Blake's head if the lighting wasn't so shit in this school.

"What do you mean?"

"Why couldn't you just feel up a few people to get to your seat?" he asks.

"I'm sorry but I'm not that kind of person," Frank says sarcastically, “Or at least, not before a first date.”

Blake scoffs and keeps up his pace. It’s clear to Frank that this dude wants to get away from him as quickly as possible. He probably thinks Frank is gross or infectious or something. People are stupid.

"Why aren't you in a special school?"

"It's nice to know you think of me as special. I don't exactly like those kinds of settings though. I just absolutely love the joys of being shoved around by grumpy teachers and greasy students in public schools."

"How can you complain when this is what you chose?"

Frank snorts but ignores the boy’s question. Frank didn't choose anything. This is the way his life was supposed to go. He still wants to have the life he was going to have, there's just an obstacle that's been brought upon him.

"I asked you a question."

"I chose not to answer it, Blake," Frank gives emphasis to the word 'chose'.

Blake turns sharply and stops in front of Frank. Frank knows because his cane hits the back of Blake’s feet, which he doesn’t seem to appreciate very much.

"At the end of this hallway you turn and then you will be at the office. I don't think you need my help anymore."

"I didn't need it from the beginning. So I guess I'll see you around."

Frank walks around Blake and down the hallway. He feels Blake's eyes burning into his back as he continues down the hall. Before he turns the corner he stops and looks in Blake's direction.

"You know if you were going to stand there and watch me you could've just finished walking with me," he says, “though I guess you just really wanted to get a look of my fantastic ass. I don’t blame you on that one.”

With that Frank turns back around and heads for the office. He’s quite excited to explain that he pissed off a teacher already. His mom will be supremely happy to hear about that.

Frank huffs though and makes his way further down the hall. Frank accidentally hits some guy who’s at his locker with his cane. He’s not far from the office now, but he turns to say sorry to the victim whose foot he just whacked.

“Sorry about that,” Frank says. He wouldn’t say sorry were it not for the fact that he just hit a stranger and the fact that it was his fault.

“No, it’s fine,” the person says, a guy by the sound of his voice. “Do you know where you’re headed?”

“Kind of,” Frank says, and he decides that that’s a good enough explanation because he doesn’t like talking to people in general.

They don’t say anything more, but he hears the guy looking through papers or something. Or at least, that’s what it sounds like. He hears the sound of the guy dropping a book behind him, but Frank just keeps walking.

Frank is fairly sure he remembers where the office had been. Patrick had guided him from the entrance to there, and then to his locker. He’d just remembered the way that the hall twisted and the approximate value of steps it took to get there.

“Excuse me?” A woman asks when Frank enters the office. The door is open already, and he can tell it’s the same place he was in before, because this room is carpeted. It also appears to be brighter, and there’s a nauseating smell of drugstore perfume coming from a secretary that’s probably incredibly old.

“Yeah, I’m Frank, and-”

“Did you need help finding your way or something?” the woman asks.

“No, I pissed off my teacher and I was sent in here,” Frank says.

“It’s your first day,” the secretary states.

“Well I’m somewhat of a brat,” Frank replies.

“Okay, what class are you coming from then?” she asks and starts typing things.

“English. From someone named Bentley?” Frank says.

The secretary types something quickly on her computer, Frank listening to the sound the keys make in the room. It’s not a big room, but it’s much stuffier than the halls. The acoustics are more grating, making the sound of any echoes lose their way before they get the chance to bloom.

“Since it’s your first infraction, and your first day, I just need to contact a parent, and you can head back to class,” the woman says. “What was the reason?”

“I didn’t want to feel up a bunch of people to find an empty seat,” Frank shrugs, and he can tell that’s not enough of an explanation, “Your fine academic enforcer seemed to think that it would be okay to tell the blind kid to just sit anywhere, because she was too busy reading a stale page out of a completely fallacious and outdated textbook to give a shit that said blind student couldn’t see where the free seats were.”

“That’s all?” the teacher asks.

“Yep. All I did was state the obvious. I can’t find the empty seats unless I’m allowed to hit people with my cane. Looking back on it, I probably should’ve just done that. It would’ve been more fun. Pin the tail on the empty seat,” Frank says and he smirks to himself at the thought.

“That doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal to me, but I have an obligation to report it, sorry kid,” the secretary says.

“No, do your worst. My mom was going to be disappointed in me either way. If not this, she’d have found something else,” Frank says, “though maybe pissing off the teacher before I’d even stepped into the class wasn’t a good idea.”

“No, maybe not,” the secretary says.

“If you want, you can just wait here until class ends so that you don’t have to face her,” the secretary says, and Frank decides that he really likes this woman. He may not like her perfume, but he likes her as a person.

“Well how much longer is the period?”

“About fifty minutes left,” she says.

“Sounds good,” Frank nods, “I can entertain myself for fifty minutes.”

“Okay then, you can take a seat to your left, but this is just a onetime deal, kid,” the woman says.

“Fine with me,” Frank says, and he finds the seat she’d directed to him.

Frank sits there and 'looks' around the office. He can guess where a few things are, but not many. He’s pretty sure he can make out what some of the things are though. Like the clock on the wall, it’s a stark white against a wall that’s probably beige. He also sees the flag in the corner of the room, as well as the huge computer on the desk. Frank’s still not quite used to how deep computers are, but he hasn’t seen too many in his life. Frank faintly hears the woman talking to his mother on the phone, as she tries to keep her voice lowered and professional for the setting.

Frank can also hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. If he could actually see he'd be watching the hands go around said clock. Actually, if he could see he wouldn't be in this situation. He would've been able to grab a seat and get to work paying attention to the adenoidal voice of his teacher. He probably wouldn't even be in this new school because the move probably would've never happened. There's a lot of things that wouldn't have happened if Frank wasn't blind.

He probably wouldn’t have lost most of his friends. He probably would’ve been able to play a guitar for real rather than just ‘well for a blind guy’.

That’s all he is mostly. Whenever Frank does anything good, he does it well... for a blind guy. Frank is good at reading for a blind guy. He’s good at walking on the correct side of the road for a blind guy. He’s good at running for a blind guy. He’s good at putting a fucking straw in a cup for a blind guy. Everything he does is good, but only for a blind guy. Frank is held at a different standard, because of something so stupid. Nothing he ever does can be good for just a human. It’s always good for a blind guy. It gets annoying after the second time, so the millionth time makes him want to murder someone.

"Hey, could you tell me what time it is?"

"You have forty minutes left."

Frank chuckles and nods to her, "Thank you."

Frank gets quiet and slips back into his thoughts. Today could've gone way worse than it already has, Frank thinks. Frank supposes he kind of sort of made an associate. He won’t be calling Patrick a friend anytime soon. He won’t be calling Gerard a friend either. Acquaintance. Associate. Contact. Anything but friend.

Patrick is a nice guy and Frank can't deny that no matter how much he wants to. Frank doesn't trust him of course, but there’s nothing wrong in admitting that the guy may be worth keeping around.

Time passes by slowly but before Frank knows it, the bell is ringing out through the school and annoying the hell out of him. Frank is easily spooked by loud noises, especially buzzing noises, because they’re unsettling when you can’t see them. Frank stands up and thanks the secretary one last time before leaving the office. Frank realizes he doesn't know how he’s supposed get to his next class. At this, he turns around and back into the office. Frank walks over to the desk and from the movement he knows the woman is looking at him.

"How can I help you this time, Frank?"

"I apologize, I seem to be more needy than usual, but would you mind escorting me to my class?" Frank shrugs sadly because he really hates being this hopeless and having to intervene on other's time. "I don't mean to impose. Usually I wouldn't ask for the help, but I just really don't feel like all the bullshit of people leading me astray."

"You don't have to explain yourself. I am here to help, and I don't mind helping someone who actually needs it," she says and the sound of a rolling chair meets his ears.

"Well since you put it that way I don't need your help," Frank says, feeling marginalized as usual.

"Hush boy and follow me. Hand on my shoulder, let's go."