What's Enough?

Chapter 155

Dyslexia: A general term for disorders that involve difficulty in learning to read or interpret words, letters, numbers, and other symbols, but that do not affect general intelligence.

"Huh?" I partially smile. No way, he can't be.

"He is dyslexic, diagnosed when he was five, that's why he started school late," she explains. "We couldn't decide on a special school or regular,"

This actually makes a little sense; all this time in Mr. Brooke's class, I thought he was just being stubborn, not wanting to read out loud. But it was because he couldn't read; well, he can; it will just take a little longer for him to get the words. Also in kindergarten, he did have a stutter, it was pretty bad too, I forgot all about that.

"How come he isn't in special classes?" Our school offers special education classes for people with disabilities; he should be in those.

"Josiah," she says, disappointed, "He didn't want him to be in special classes; he didn't want him to get bullied," More like he didn't want Ryder's disability to be known to the town, so he kept it a secret, which has ultimately lead to his horrible grades throughout the years. "Now that you know, you can help him,"

"I don't understand; how can I help him?" If I could, I would. I would do anything for him, but there's no cure for dyslexia; nothing I do can help him see numbers and letters the right way.

"Patience, I guess, I know you are already patient with him, but maybe since now you know, you can take things a little slower, and maybe he won't be so afraid to show you his work," she says.

I guess I could do that. This also explains why he never showed me his work once he was finished. I always explained it to him. He did his own thing; I just assumed he knew what he was doing. He just gave up completely; his teachers returned to me a folder of his work, nothing was done. All this time, he has just pretended to do it.

Why would he not tell me?

The doorbell rings. Evelyn gives me a warm smile before walking away; Jacob snickers like something is funny; I shoot him a glare, "What's so funny?"

He shrugs his shoulders and says, "No matter how slow you teach him, he'll never get it; he's stupid,"

"He isnt stupid!" I say, defending Ryder; him calling him stupid makes my blood boil, like a kettle of water on a stove. "He's nowhere near stupid, you on the other hand,"

He hunches on the counter, bringing his face closer to mine, "Well, unlike him, I actually passed my classes, with A's, and I got into an ivy league school because of my grades, not because of sports," he says this as if this makes him a good person. "Not to mention I own very successful business around the world,"

"That doesn't mean anything, good grades, Ivy League school, thriving business! You're a horrible person; if people knew the truth about you, I'm sure you wouldn't be where you are at," I surely wouldn't go into business with a liar, a murderer, a narcissist.

"Maybe, maybe not," A smile creeps at the corner of his mouth; he's enjoying this so much. "So, I heard you and my brother took a trip to Georgia—an interesting place to visit. Why did you guys go there?"

"I think you know," even if he doesn't, it's not like I'm going to tell him.

He walks from around the counter closer to me, "What is it you want to happen? Your acting as if I killed the guy, what happened was years ago, there's nothing you can do, nothing will happen to me even if you go public with this, it over,"

"Wanna bet," I challenge.

Before he can say another word, the back door opens, Ryder walks into the kitchen, "What are you doing here?" He asks Jacob and walks to my side, in front of me, putting distance between his brother and me.