The next morning I woke up to my mother knocking at my door, usually I said that she could come in but this time, my mom just came in my room.

“Hey Pastel, how are you feeling?” My mom asked knowing what happened yesterday.

“I…I...ok,” I struggled to get out but the truth was that I was not ok after what happened yesterday.

“Something is seriously wrong, isn’t it?” My mom asked with concern evident in her voice.

“I’m fine really!” I yelled.

“Ok, please just stay calm, let’s get you ready for school,” My mom said picking me up and laying me on the floor to get me dressed, because that was the only way she could get me dressed,

Once I was dressed and in my wheelchair, I made my way downstairs and sat at the dining room table eating some cereal.

Then at 7:00 AM the bus came to pick me up so that I could go to school. My father who had gone by then left me a note in my lunchbox with a little heart on it.

My school was all one level, but the elementary classes were in a different room to the middle school and High school classes, Rarity was in middle school at the time, it was a mixed school so people with physical disabilities and people with mental disabilities would have classes alongside each other, which sometimes got a little bit complicated, because most of the students that I had in my class were severely autistic, some of the students were in wheelchairs because they had the same disability as me or something similar.

The playground that Pinkie took me to when it was recess was also divided into one more section, on the elementary school side of the playground they had a box of toys and a sandbox and a swing.

Now on the middle school and High school side of the playground, they had better toys than we had on the elementary side, they had a jungle gym while we only had a measly swing and a sandbox, so I was also very jealous that they had the jungle gym and we didn’t so I used to go over there, even though I knew that once I went over to the high school side of the playground I was in the danger zone of getting bullied.

Once all of the students came into the classroom we had circle time which was a time to tell each other and the teacher about weekends and our days after school, and my closest friend in that class was a boy named Jack who had spinal muscular atrophy and he was from Turkey, and we used to race around the school when we had recess.

And Pinkie was also in my class because she was very hyper active so her parents believed that it was because of her mental disorder, which was a high functioning form of autism called Asperger’s syndrome.

“So Pastel what did you do yesterday after school?” Mr Aptitude asked me.

“Play on my iPad,” I answered, not looking at my teacher.

I didn’t feel like being here. I felt like all of the students were judging me because I couldn’t speak properly and I couldn’t read or write, even though my teacher Mr Aptitude always reassured me that it would be fine, I know that it wasn’t.

“So...what...else...did...you..do...on...the…weekend?” A boy wearing a white T-shirt and black pants sitting across from me asked.

“Nothing!” I said with no emotion in my voice.

The classroom that we were in was very lovely decorated it had desks and chairs on one side of the room and toys and books on the other side of the room against the far left wall, on the walls there were many many paintings from students that had either graduated or moved up a level, most of those paintings were pretty good to say the least, the walls were painted a nice shade of green.

Some of the desks didn’t have chairs for the children in wheelchairs, the desks were a very sharp gray and the legs of the desks were red, the desks themselves were made out of plastic that was painted gray, when one walked into the classroom it did not look very inviting at first.

The boy who spoke to me, also had cerebral palsy but unlike me he could walk but he still had to use a wheelchair for long distances, and he had a speech problem.

Most of the kids spoke to me as though I was three years old but by now I was 10 years old and not three.

I felt ashamed to even go out for recess on the playground because my bullies were there, even though they were in a different class to me we share a playground.

I heard a very sharp scream next to me, so I covered my ears and started rocking back-and-forth. Now most of the children would say that I have a form of autism but I don’t have autism.

In a split second Mr. Aptitude was over by the boy’s side and escorted him out of the classroom, Mr. Aptitude always told us to stay calm in situations that were going to escalate.

When Mr. Aptitude told us to stay calm that reminded me of my first day when I had a seizure and all of the students ran out of the classroom, granted that was in elementary school and now I am in middle school but still I did not like it.

“Listen up class, today we have cooking with Mrs. Wind,” Mr Aptitude said, just ignoring me, and the fact I was not feeling well.

“When?” I asked.

“After lunch, first we have art class with Mr Apple Wood,” Mr Aptitude said as he wheeled the students in wheelchairs to the art room, some of the students with mental disabilities followed, but not all because the boy who got mad earlier stayed in the classroom rocking back and forth.

“Charlie, I think I’m going to stay, in the classroom, Midnight isn’t doing so well,” Pinkie said to Mr Aptitude.

“Midnight, be on your best behavior for Pinkie, ok?” Mr. Aptitude said.

“Your best behavior?” Midnight repeated, still rocking back and forth slightly.

“Good, i’ll see you later,” mr. Aptitude said as he left the classroom.

“So Midnight what would you like to do?” Pinkie asked,

“What would you like to do?” Midnight repeated, going over to the toy chest and opening up.

“Do you wanna play with toys?” Pinkie asked.

“Play with toys!” Midnight happily announced.

“Hey class, so how are y’all doin’ today?” Mr. Apple wood who was a back man with green hair and thick rimmed glasses graded his class.

“I…bad today, Mr. Apple Wood,” I announced.

“Sorry you’re not doing well Pastel, maybe some painting would just be good for today, I was actually hoping that we could work on our clay sculptures, I guess that would be too much work though,” Mr. Apple said.

“Where is Midnight?” Mr. Apple asked Mr. Attitude.

“He’s back in the classroom with Pinkie, he had a meltdown.” Mr. Attitude answered.

Pinkie was in our classroom with Midnight after his meltdown earlier.

Midnight was a very handsome young boy with green eyes and black hair, his skin was as white as a ghost, he was very thin as a result of not getting enough food as a baby. His mother abandoned him because she didn’t know how to take care of him, but luckily he has found a great home.

Midnight has a condition called shaken baby syndrome which was caused by his mother shaking him so hard that his brain didn’t get enough oxygen so it results in brain damage. The symptoms include extreme fussiness or irritability, difficulty staying awake, breathing problems, poor eating, vomiting, pale or bluish skin, seizures, paralysis and in some cases coma.

But for Midnight it caused him to have autism and other developmental disabilities.

“Hey Midnight, I know how much you like music so I put together a playlist just for you,” Pinkie said as she walked over to him and sat down.

Midnight didn’t respond to her instead he just sat there drooling and slightly dozing off.

Author's Note

Hope you like it, please let me know what you think.