My mom flicked on the light, snapping me out of my dream. “Rise and shine, dear! It’s time for your first day of school, remember?” She said, walking over and giving me a hug as I climbed out of bed.

“Yeah.” I nodded.

“Is something wrong, Pastel?” She asked.

“I don’t… like school.” I finally said; cerebral palsy makes it hard for people to speak and unfortunately I wasn’t an exception.

“Don’t worry. I’ll take you to your class. You’ll be fine! So hurry up. I made pancakes and they’re better hot.” My mom said, before walking out.

I smiled a little. Those were my favourite. I put on some clothes I hoped the kids at school would like and then went to the kitchen. There, sitting on the table, were two stacks of pancakes. Sitting next to one of them was my dad.

“Hi Pastel.” He said, as I pulled my wheelchair up to the table, “You’re all dressed up today.”

“Yes, Rocks Glass, she’s starting her next year of school today. I marked it on the calendar last week.” My mom said, putting her own plate on my other side.

My dad ignored her. I don’t know if it was because he was still tired from being up all night bartending or if he was still mad at the argument they had last week. But I don’t think he’d be very happy either way; when he heard I was taking a Religious Education class, he started yelling about how he hated Christianity.

Eventually, he and I finished eating and my mom finished her cup of coffee just about the same time my dad had his third. She then turned to me, “Well Pastel, are you ready to go?” She asked.

I glanced over at my dad. He looked like he was going to fall asleep and use his last pancake as a cushion. I wanted to say goodbye but I really have a hard time talking, especially when I’m nervous.

“Bye.” I eventually said.

My dad waved goodbye as the minivan pulled out of the driveway. My mom didn’t look up. I wanted to wave back myself but I was too busy getting the straps on my wheelchair done right; because I can’t walk, it's easier for me to ride in the back in my own chair.

“Pastel, is something wrong?” My mom asked, a minute or so later, once we were driving to school.

“No.” I stuttered, “J-Just nervous.”

“Okay then. Just remember that if any of the other kids are mean to you, you need to tell me.” My mom said over her shoulder.

“I understand.” I managed to say. We spent the rest of the ride in silence.

Just as she promised, she wheeled me right to the classroom once we arrived at the school. The words “2T” were written on a chalkboard attached to the door.

“This should be it.” Said my mom, “Mr Aptitude Test’s class. Have a fun day and remember to make a good impression, alright? I’ll be back at one thirty to fetch you.” With that, my mom gave me a kiss on the forehead and walked out the door.

I waved her goodbye, not wanting to draw any attention to my slurred speech if I didn’t have to. The classroom itself look nice, with cheerful posters on the walls, a few beanbags and bookshelves in one corner and a board with row of names and stars on another.

Before I could get a closer look at anything, the bell rang and kids started walking into the class. None paid any attention to me; they were all happy talking to each-other and discussing how their holidays went. My desk was right in the back too, and the only other child in that row, a girl with curly pink hair and an old-fashioned looking dress, was talking to somebody in the row in front who looked like her sister.

About a minute later, once everyone had found their desk, the teacher walked into the classroom, hanging a bright red coat on a hook by the door as he did. After setting his briefcase on the desk, he turned to us, and clapped his hands to get our attention.

“Good morning class!” He said.

“Good morning Mister Aptitude Test.” Everyone else but me said.

“Now, I’m told we have a new student joining us this year. Let’s all give a warm welcome to Pastel Palette.” He said, nodding to me.

Instead of saying anything, I just stared down at my feet. Suddenly my new tennis shoes didn’t look so cool anymore.

“What’s wrong with her?” One boy whispered to the girl next to him.

“Yeah. She’s really weird.” Said somebody else.

“I know right, what’s with that chair?” A boy sitting in front of me said.

“There’s nothing wrong with being shy everyone. We all get scared when we have to meet lots of new people all at once. Now why-”

Somebody’s hand shot up. Then, before Mr Test could finish, she stood up and started talking, “Teacher, is she stupid or something? I don’t think she doesn’t want to talk. I don’t even think she can.”

“Now Rarity that was very mean. You shouldn’t-”

“But if she can’t talk, why is she even here? Is she retarded?” The girl said, crossing her arms and stamping a foot. A tear rolled down my cheek. That really hurt!

“Sit. Down. Now. We’ll talk about that later.” The teacher said, spotting me, crying, in the corner. I wanted to go home.

“You okay?” The girl sitting next to me asked.

I shook my head.

“You’ll get used to her, she's okay once you get to know her,” She continued.

I tried to talk but I could only shake my head. Then I shot up in my chair, and started to shake harder. I was having a seizure! Why now, of all the times?

“Teacher! Teacher!” The pink-haired girl said, waving her hand in the air. He spotted it, and rushed over, saying a word my parents yelled but I wasn’t allowed to say as he ran.

“Alright.” He said to the class, “Please stay calm and wait outside, like we practiced.”

The rest of the seizure lasted only half a minute, but it was awful. I was so embarrassed that everyone saw me like that. I thought my mom had told the teacher what to do if that happened.

Author's Note

This is about my life so please be nice and not rude comments