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Despite his seemingly uncaring attitude towards education, Drake really hated how stupid school made him feel. He used to be able to keep up, only falling behind when his dad started coming home late. But, before then, his father would sit Drake down at the kitchen table to ensure he completed all his homework, and refused to leave his side until he was certain Drake understood what he was doing. And when Drake began to bounce his leg or tap his pencil with a rhythm, distracting himself entirely from his assignments, his dad would gently guide him back to what he should be doing. When Drake would get frustrated because he swore the threes on his page looked like eights sometimes, or when he would call himself stupid because he got too many answers wrong in row, leaving him damn near tears, his father would but a hand on his shoulder and take a deep breath with him, and encourage him to give it another try. And when he'd complete something well, earning him a a squeeze on the shoulder with some words of praise, he's actually feel smart.
But, when his dad started coming home later and later more frequently, his mom figured out why, and dad wasn’t living with them anymore. Things changed quickly. Grades dropped fast. However, Drake felt far too guilty asking his mom to sit him down while he did homework while telling him everything was okay, when she was so broken over his dad. So, he just didn’t do his work. He found staring at his ceiling far more interesting than homework. Naturally, he fell behind and stayed behind, only moving up each grade by doing the absolute bare minimum.
And when he got his guitar? Forget it. It’s all he could think about during school hours. Why would he want to learn about math that made his head hurt, history that made him sad, science he couldn't care less about, or books that were way too hard to read, when he could teach himself another Beatles song on electric guitar.
He did feel shame when he saw a failing grade at the top of a test, however. And immense guilt when he handed his report card full of D’s to his mom. She would sigh and just ask him to try his best, but they both knew she may as well be speaking to a wall.
So, yeah, school makes him feel dumb, so he's given up trying. In turn, his grades fall, making him feel even dumber. It was quite an unfortunate cycle.
If it was hard then, Josh moving in made it worse. He loves him dearly, though he wouldn’t admit it, but, damn, was he smart. Well beloved by teachers and always made the honor roll. Drake knew what they were. The smart one and the dumb one.
One day, Drake went downstairs to get a snack, and found Megan and Josh sitting at the kitchen table. In front of them was a heavy textbook Megan was glaring at and scattered papers. It was obvious that this tutor session of sorts was set up by Audrey. Megan would never willingly do this. That much was clear by the sheer amount of distances she put between her chair and her stepbrother's.
“Take a deep breath and try again, okay?” Josh tried. It sounded familiar to Drake's ears.
Megan groaned and threw her pencil. “You just get it, Josh. You're smart . I can keep trying over and over again and just never understand.” That felt familiar to Drake's soul.
“You’re smart too."
“I could hit you."
“I prefer you didn’t,” Josh spoke. “Megan, maybe you should look into getting extra time on these sorts of things.” He pointed to one miscellaneous worksheet. “This page you got a pretty decent score.” He pointed to another. “This one, with the same topic, you struggled more. The main difference is only the font.”
Megan raised an eyebrow as if to say “And? What’s your point?”
“You might be dyslexic,” Josh concluded.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a thing some people have that makes it hard for them to read.”
“I know how to read!” She said, giving him a glare that shot daggers.
“I didn't say you couldn't.” He defended.
“I'm not that dumb,” Megan said. "I don't need pity from my teachers."
“It doesn't make you dumb,” Josh sighed. “It makes it fair for you.”
Megan didn’t look convinced.
“If you talk to someone and make a 504 plan you could take tests in separate rooms and get extra time on tests and assignments and stuff.” He grinned as he continued, “You can even have preferred seating which honestly probably isn't something you need, but you could still do it. I have a friend who can use calculators on non-calculator exams. Think of it as special treatment if that makes it easier for you.”
She only shrugged.
“Just consider it. Ask a teacher or mom or something.” Josh suggested.
He wasn't talking to Drake, but he did consider it.
The next day, Drake went through a mental list of all his teachers and huffed. He wasn’t particularly fond of any of them and he doubted any of them liked him much either. He slept through many of his classes and often handed things in late. Would any of them even be willing to hear him out? He saw Hayfer walk by. Nope. He thought of his science teacher. That man terrified him. He passed his math class. The teacher who taught that class probably didn’t even know Drake's name. He had a music teacher, but she was miserable. She was against anything that wasn't old-timey 1800s classics. She didn’t like his style much. And he hated her face. His history teacher, despite his dislike for the class, was nice enough. She definitely seemed to be frustrated with him often, but she never made him feel like a nuisance. She was always nice when she spoke to him. Even when she was losing her patience. Maybe he could talk with her.
During lunch he peeped through her classroom window, seeing she was the only one there. He didn’t get nervous at school often, but he did notice there was a slight tremble in his fist as he knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Ms.Díaz shouted. So, he did.
“Hi,” he breathed out, shuffling into the classroom.
“Oh,” she looked shocked to see Drake. “Hello, honey. Is everything alright?”
He sat at the desk closest to her. “I think there’s something wrong with me.” Well, that's not what he wanted to say. “Not wrong, but something’s…up? And I heard I should talk to a teacher.”
She blinked, processing his words, before smiling at him. “What’s going on?”
“I think I need a 504 thing,” Drake confessed.
Ms.Díaz nodded. “I think you're right. Drake, do you have any diagnosis's?”
“No. I was never tested for stuff. Do you have any theories?” Drake asked, getting more comfortable with the situation. She spoke about it so casually, which certainly eased him.
“I have ADHD and I see that a bit in you,” She replied.
“I heard my brother talking about something called…well, I forgot what it was called. It makes it hard to read stuff.”
“Dyslexia.”
“That," Drake confirmed.
“It could be both,” Ms.Díaz nodded. “You can be accommodated even if you can't get an official diagnosis yet. That is, if you speak with a physiatrist and have them write a letter to the school. I think the sooner the better.”
The idea of having something to explain why he was the way he was felt reliving, but…scary. “What if I don't have it? What if I'm completely normal and I'm just screwed?”
“You’d be normal either way,” she gently corrected. “And it couldn't hurt to check, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“I'll talk to your mother about it, if you'd like,” Ms.Díaz offered.
“Yeah. That’d be…yeah,” Drake mumbled.
“We’ll figure it out, hon,” Ms.Díaz promised. “Now go enjoy the rest of your lunch.”
Drake nodded and flashed her a genuine smile. “Thank you.” As he walked back to the cafeteria, he looked forward to a future where maybe he'd start to feel smart again.