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Jay didn’t like words. More specifically, he didn’t like letters . They weirded him out. He knew there was no magic on the Isle of the Lost (his father only complained about it a hundred times a day), but Jay swore that letters were cursed somehow. They were always jumping around and flipping and tricking him every time he dared to blink. Thankfully, Jafar didn’t make him do too much reading. His jobs were more… physical in nature. Jafar didn’t have time for old spell books and deep, historical learnings, and Jay was okay with that. He’d learned how to turn just about anything for a profit, even some of the most broken, worn-out junk that came over on the barges. It made him feel useful - talented, even. He’d never for a second considered himself intelligent, no; he wasn’t deluded. He couldn’t copy down pages of copious, dark notes from the professors at Dragon Hall, but no one required him to. Just as long as Jay could punch hard and run faster, he could be just as successful as those little evil geniuses.
Still, he sometimes wondered what it would be like to defeat the letter curse. To be able to glance at something and understand what it meant without having to study it for a wasteful amount of time. Reading wasn’t an essential skill, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t useful. And he was tired of having to spend twenty minutes deciphering notes slipped into his pockets by admirers. So, Jay decided to ask someone about it. He knew of other kids who could read; surely they would know of a way to get around the flipping letters.
Luckily, the opportunity to ask someone presented itself rather shortly thereafter. Neither Jay nor Mal were exactly sure when he’d become her right-hand-man, but one smoggy night on the roof, he’d felt comfortable enough around her to bring up the curse.
“Hey, Dragon Breath?”
She turned to him, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“You read, right? You can read?” Jay studied her carefully. “Like your mother’s spellbook and shit?”
Mal snorted. “I’m barely allowed to touch that thing.” Then, she nodded grudgingly. “But yeah. I’ve learned on some of the other lesser spell albums she has lying around. I’m pretty good, actually.”
He chuckled weakly. “Uh - yeah. Me, too.” Jay didn’t want her to think that he was stupid. “Just - how did you get the letters to stop… you know… jumping?”
“Jumping?” Mal narrowed her eyes. “What freak books have you been reading?”
Jay felt his heart sink slightly. “Like… the letters flipping and shit? How did you get them to stop? Is it magic?”
“Magic?” Mal folded her arms. “You and I both know there’s no such thing here. Seriously, what are you on about? Jumping letters? Have you been trying to study and drink at the same? And since when do we study?”
Defeated, Jay shook his head. “Forget about it,” he smiled casually. “Just messing with you.”
And maybe she believed him or maybe she didn’t. But he didn’t bring it up again for a long time.
-----
Auradon was different. Auradon valued reading and writing and all that shit Jay had learned to work around. Jay knew he wasn’t smart - and by now, he was old enough to realize other people didn’t have his same curse - but it had never truly bothered him until teachers started asking him to read and write consistently.
“Jay,” Fairy Godmother smiled indulgently, waving around her pointer like a wand. “Would you read the next passage aloud for us?”
Inside, he could feel his heart begin to beat a little faster than usual. Jay knew he wouldn’t be able to read from the textbook, all those fancy words and tiny print; he would just make a fool out of himself. So instead of complying, he grinned up at her - all charm and arrogance. “Nah.”
“ Nah?” Fairy Godmother repeated, shocked. Clearly, students didn’t usually talk back here. “Mr - uh - young man, this is not a request that you can simply brush aside. I have instructed you to read, and so, you shall read. This is a very important moment for you. Listening to instructions and speaking clearly for a crowd are two basic Auradon lessons our students must master.”
Those aren’t the skills I’m worried about, Jay thought to himself. But he kept smiling with his textbook shut on the desk. “Well, that’s a shame, isn’t it? Those sound ridiculously boring, actually.”
Next to him, Carlos hunched down in his seat, like he was afraid Fairy Godmother might start yelling or something. “Dude,” the other boy muttered. “Just do it.”
“Don’t think I will.” Jay stood up casually, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “I’m gonna go grab lunch. This class blows.”
And he strode right out the double doors of the Goodness Classroom before anyone could stop him.
He hoped no one would follow, but a few moments later, he heard running footsteps in the hall behind him. He half expected it to be Fairy Godmother coming to hunt him down and beat him with that pointer or something, but it was Carlos.
“Jay!” the freckled boy came up next to him, looking concerned. “Jay, you can’t just walk out of class here. They don’t -”
“I don’t care.” And Jay didn’t.
But Carlos wouldn’t let him alone. He kept walking beside him, stride for stride. “Why wouldn’t you read out loud?”
The question caught Jay off guard. “Because it’s stupid,” he said quickly with a scoff. “And boring.”
“You’re lying.” Carlos caught his arm, stopping. “Jay, look at me. I knew kids older than us who’d never touched a book in their life. Our lifestyle - our island - didn’t exactly foster educational foundations, right? If you can’t read… I won’t judge.”
Jay didn’t want to have this conversation in the hallway, even with no one around. Actually, he didn’t want to have the conversation at all, but Carlos was stubborn as he was smart, so ducking it didn’t seem like a viable option at this point.
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. “I can read, it’s just… I have this curse.”
“A curse?” Carlos crinkled his nose. “What kind of a curse?”
“An irritating one.” Jay shrugged. “It makes the letters do this weird moving thing. They don’t… stay in one place. They just dance around in these fucking dizzing circles and shit. Mal doesn’t have it, though, and neither does anyone else.” The son of Jafar cringed, waiting for Carlos to write him off as stupid or hopeless. It certainly seemed hopeless, at least to Jay. But that didn’t happen.
Carlos just stared up at him, nodding. “Moving letters? Jay, I think I know what that is. I’ve read about it. Dr. Facillier used to let me go down into the Forbidden Library after I fixed the TV in his office. It’s… it’s not a curse. It’s something else. But I can do research. We’ll figure it out, okay?”
For the first time, Jay was speechless. Everyone else had just looked at him like he was crazy if he brought up jumping letters, even Mal. He’d eventually just decided to stop talking about it at all. “Why?” he asked at last, one hand curled tightly around his backpack strap. “Why help me?”
“Because.” Carlos shrugged. “We’re a team, aren’t we?”
Jay nodded a little. He didn’t know much about being apart of a team, but he figured he could always jump ship if it became too much.
------
Jay had never seen someone so excited to do something for him that didn’t involve sex. The very night after the two of them had walked out of class, Jay was woken up from a pretty sweet nap at his desk by a heavy thud.
“Shit!” he cursed, his eyes flying open. Carlos stood over him, along with an impressive stack of books.
“Dyslexia,” Carlos answered, his eyes bright.
“Huh?”
“Dyslexia,” Carlos repeated, sitting down across from him. “That’s why the letters jump around. It’s not a curse. ”
An answer. Jay stared at him, blinking. Finally, he had an answer! Squinting at the spines of the books, he studied the letters. “If it’s a thing that makes letters go all weird, why the hell did they name it a word with that looks like that?”
Carlos laughed and Jay’s gut jumped a little - just like it always did whenever Carlos laughed one of his rare little chuckles. “You’ve got a point.”
But after a moment, the quick elation of finding an answer deflated some. “So, if it’s not a curse… then how do I stop it?”
He hoped Carlos would say something about how easy it was to fix or some pill he could take to make him normal, but the freckled boy just bit his lip. “It’s… it’s not something you fix. It’s just something you learn to work with.”
“Fuck.” Jay slammed his fist on the table. There was no cure. There was absolutely no cure. He was stuck with jumping letters and stupid -
“Hey.” Gentle fingers touched his bicep and Jay froze, looking up. Carlos was staring at him, looking a little frightened, but mostly determined. “We’re gonna figure this out, okay? We’ll work together every single day if it comes to it, I promise. You’re not fucked up.”
Jay flicked his eyes down at Carlos’ hand, which were still resting on his arm. There was something about Carlos’ voice that made him feel… calmer. And for some reason, Jay almost believed him.
------
And although Jay hadn’t really expected him to, Carlos kept his promise. For the next few weeks - whether it was after school or during their lunch break - Carlos worked with him. He brought books and exercises and his patience (which was definitely necessary since the work was frustrating and Jay didn’t have a very good attention span). The son of Cruella had Jay doing a wide assortment of daily reading and writing exercises, focusing on syllables and sounding out different words. Even if Jay wanted to give up, Carlos would never let him, always encouraging him to read one more line or practice one more word stem or root. It was hard to say no to him.
Jay didn’t tell anyone about the tutoring - not even Mal or Evie. Not that he was ashamed about having help; it just didn’t fit his image. Plus, Jay didn’t need them thinking he was stupider than they already thought considering he almost never worked on homework or took notes in class. And if by some miracle the girls didn’t believe he was stupid, the other students and teachers probably did. Jay tried to pass it off as laziness. He didn’t write anything down, didn’t turn in assignments, didn’t study for tests. The teachers berated him constantly about needing to try harder and not slacking off, and he would listen, barely, and shrug off their comments. Even if Jay “tried harder”, he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. Better to let them think he was just lazy.
Just another stupid jock, he would hear some of the brainaics in Chemistry whisper. He should pair up with Chad Charming - maybe their two brain cells combined would pull out a C.
“Ignore them,” Carlos would hiss every time it happened, snapping his fingers. “Just stay focused. We can get through this.”
And so Jay would work with Carlos in private and smile and flirt with the passing cheerleaders in public, all the while doing everything in his power to make sure no one could see through the cracks.
----
Cutting class at Dragon Hall was never a big deal - and Jay should know since he and Mal skipped class almost as much as they attended it. But at Auradon Prep? Deliberately not attending class was apparently grounds for a meeting with the headmistress.
Jay sat in the plush room, his eyes flicking across all the surfaces. His mind kept drifting to the kind of bank he would make if he could slip even a few of the nicknacks and trinkets Fairy Godmother had lying around into his pockets. And although the chair he was sitting in was one of the most comfortable ones he’d ever tested, Jay still slouched low - trying to come off cool and uncaring.
He’d been cutting class a lot - not every day (at least not since Carlos had been helping him) but too often for Fairy Godmother’s liking. He skipped mostly because it was so much easier not to go than to go. First off, the classes were boring as fuck - all about chivalry and Auradon law. And second, it was exhausting. Teachers here scrawled everything on the board, and if the students weren’t writing, they were reading. So many words. So many letters. And even though he’d been practicing, despite all the tutoring sessions, it gave Jay a headache after awhile. Maybe if he’d had Carlos in all of his classes, he’d have fared better. The freckled boy never got impatient with him, always leaning over to help him understand and sort out the jumble on the page, reminding him of the exercises they practiced in their evening tutoring sessions together. And when the teachers made him read aloud, Carlos whispered the words under his breath just quiet enough for Jay to hear if he got stuck. Jay almost liked class when Carlos was next to him. Unfortunately, though, the de Vil boy only shared a few classes with him, and in all the others, Jay was on his own.
“Young man,” came Fairy Godmother’s impatient voice - her naturally sugar-sweet tones wee ebbing away almost as quickly as Jay’s patience. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
Jay glanced up, folding his arms. He hadn’t been listening, but he figured it was the same crap she’d been saying all week about shaping up and taking pride in his education. “I get it. I get it. Put in more effort and stop skipping school.”
“Jay,” she sighed. “You were brought here to give you all a chance at redemption. But if you keep cutting class and approaching your studies here with such apathy, we’re going to have a much bigger problem on our hands. It’s just not a healthy environment for our other students. We pride ourselves here at Auradon Prep with providing a safe and productive learning environment. I’ve seen your performance in my class, and your other teachers have relayed truly dismal tales of your snark and carelessness. You haven’t turned in a single homework assignment since you arrived. Honestly, your last essay for History of Magical Ethics had one sentence filled with profanity and blatant rudeness. I’m sorry, Jay, but right now, I have no choice. It wouldn’t be fair to the other children if I didn’t. As of today, I must put you on academic probation.”
That didn’t sound good. Jay raised an eyebrow. “Probation?”
“If your next progress report shows no marked improvement,” Fairy Godmother warned sadly, her eyes practically pleading him to do better, to make different choices, to somehow make his stupid brain smarter. “I’ll have no choice but to dismiss you from Auradon Prep.”
---
“They can’t do that!” Mal cried indignantly later that night in the girls’ dorm. Jay had filled the rest of the group in on the meeting (leaving out the tutoring sessions).
“Yes,” Evie said gently. “They can. You have to keep good grades to stay in school here.”
“Jay.” Mal folded her arms. “If you fail out, they’ll send you back to the Isle, right?”
Jay would be lying if he’d said the same thought hadn’t crossed his mind. “I don’t know. FG didn’t say. But I doubt they’d want a stupid, flunked-out villain kid wandering around their streets, so probably, yeah.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. Jay had never felt so useless in all his life. He was never the weak link. He was the muscles, the protector, someone who faced the danger head on and kicked its ass. Now, he was stupid and impotent and holding them all back.
“If you’re going,” Mal said quietly. “We’re coming, too, you know.”
“No.” Jay rubbed the side of his face. He couldn’t let his failure ruin their chances here in Auradon, not now that they’d decided to actually try and be good. “Just because I’m a fuck up doesn’t mean -”
“You’re not a fuck up.” It came out of Carlos almost like a growl. Jay stared at him, as did Mal and Evie. He’d been saying it a lot lately, usually once if not more every tutoring session, but this was definitely the most ferocious version. “You’re not a fuck up,” Carlos repeated. “You’re like the bravest person I know. So letters flip around for you. Big deal. They’re just letters.”
“Wait,” Mal frowned. “Jay, that didn’t go away? From when we were kids? I thought you were just like… dehydrated or something. They still jump or whatever?”
Jay took a breath, shrugging. “Guess so.”
Evie was the only one who had never heard anything about his problem, and now, he could feel her eyes on him. He expected her to pity him or maybe to laugh. But when he glanced up, Jay saw something that looked almost like admiration.
“Dyslexia,” she said softly. “I saw the books on Carlos’ desk the other day. Figured he was doing some research, but I didn’t know it was for you.”
“I’ve been,” Jay cleared his throat. “Working with him, I guess. A little. Well… a lot. It’s sort of helping. I dunno.”
“That’s really cool,” Evie told him gently. “He’s a good tutor, isn’t he? Just the other day, he and I were working out this really difficult problem for physics, and he explained it perfectly.”
“So, what?” Mal turned to Evie, her eyebrows knitting together. “Is dyslexia some kind of spell? Can Carlos cure it? Is it permanent?”
“No.” Evie shook her head, smiling a little. “It’s not magic.”
“It’s a neurobiological condition,” Carlos told her. When Mal looked lost, he smiled and went on. “It’s all about how his brain processes information. He reads with a different part of his brain than you or I - one that’s not as efficient. So that's why reading is different for him.”
“Oh.” Mal looked over at Jay, her head tipped slightly. “And that makes letters flip?”
“Well,” Carlos held up a hand. “In one of the books, it was saying that Jay’s brain has trouble recognizing phonemes -”
“Hey, Spotty?” Mal interrupted. “If you keep using all these big words -”
“Shh!” Evie shushed her, swatting her gently. “He’s doing a good job. Let him talk.”
“People with dyslexia,” Carlos continued, “like Jay, have a harder time making a connection between the sound and the letter symbol for that sound. Like… the pure sound of a letter? Jay has to work harder to sort all those out when he reads and writes.”
It was strange to hear Carlos describe his problem, like it wasn’t a problem at all - just something that happened differently for him. Carlos didn’t present it like a disease or even something wrong. Apparently, he didn't think Jay’s brain was weird - just not the same as most people’s.
Glancing over at Mal, Jay noticed that she looked almost awed now, and he knew how rarely people impressed her. “Damn,” she said in a low voice, nudging his shoulder. “You’re kinda kickass, you know that?”
“See?” Carlos shook his head. “You’re not stupid, Jay. No one in this room thinks you're stupid except for you.”
Jay swallowed hard, a sudden tightness swelling in his throat. He hadn't cried in front of anyone in a long, long, long time - maybe ever. He wasn't about to do it now. But his eyes were betraying him, blurring slightly. Quickly, he pressed the heel of his palms to eyelids, trying to push the tears back to where they belonged.
“Hey.” Carlos was still talking, his voice steady. “You’re making such good progress, dude. Seriously. And I know you feel like you’re stupid, and it doesn't feel like it’ll get any easier, but this makes you stronger than everyone else. Most of us don't have to unscramble the letters. We have it easy. The fact that you're trying at all… even if Fairy Godmother can't see that… is enough for us.”
Jay had never been enough for anyone. Not his dad. Not the people he’d slept with. Not anyone. But Carlos had just said he was. He was enough for them. Jay felt more tears slide past his hands and drip down his hot cheeks.
He felt Mal’s arm around him first, strong and protective. Evie’s was next, delicate but deadly, her fingers plaiting his hair soothingly. Finally, Carlos moved to his other side, looping his arm around Jay’s middle. All three of them felt so warm and comforting - the team he’d never known he'd wanted.
-----
There was a C circled on Jay’s essay.
A pass.
Fairy Godmother didn’t look exceptionally pleased, saying something about what happened when he stopped being lazy and started actually paying attention. But he wasn’t listening to her. He was staring at Carlos, right at him and his smile.
Because Carlos was smiling brighter than Jay had ever thought was possible. He looked proud. Prouder than his dad had been the very first time he’d stolen an oil lamp. Prouder, even, than Ben had seemed when Jay set him up for the winning goal instead of taking it himself.
“You,” Jay muttered quietly, pulling him in close and curling his arm around the back of his head and neck. “You did this.”
But Carlos only shook his head, pulling out of the embrace some to point at Mal and Evie, who were standing a little ways off with smiles just as bright. “No. The girls and I know exactly who did this, and it wasn’t the three of us.” And just like that, Carlos stood on tiptoe and pressed a small kiss to the corner of Jay’s mouth. "It was you."
Heat spread through Jay’s body and he turned, grinning at the girls who grinned back. For the first time in a long, long time, he didn’t feel stupid. He didn’t feel especially smart, either, but that wasn’t his job.
I’m doing okay, he realized. We’re doing okay.