Forever Young

Chapter 15

My leg bounced under the desk as I struggled to stay still. Even if I wasn't paying attention, I knew that I needed to at least pretend that I was. My pinafore and blouse were distracting, though, both the thickness and the fabric different than the dresses I had grown used to.

Carlisle had placed a piece of paper in front of me. I had no idea what it said, but he told me that it was a placement test. I should answer every question as best I could,  even if I didn't know the answers. It would help Carlisle to decide what kind of material he should start with.

He had assured me that this wasn't a graded kind of test. And that it wasn't something to stress about. And that he knew I was nervous, but that I had no need to be- even if he needed to start with material generally meant for first-graders, he would.

But first graders knew how to read. I didn't. So I just sat. And waited.

"Camellia, it's alright if you don't know the answers," Carlisle reminded me. "Just do the best that you can." His tone was gentle, but I could see that his patience was wearing thin. I hadn't filled in any of the answers yet, despite the fact that Renesmee was on the third page of her history worksheet. 

For the third time, I picked up my pencil and allowed it to hover over the paper. Should I just make scribbles on the page? That would make him think that I was answering. But it would also likely lead to me being in trouble when I actually handed in my test.

At this rate, I would be in trouble either way, though. Carlisle was still standing beside me, looking over my shoulder. Watching as I didn't lower my pencil to the paper.

"I don't know any of the answers," I told him, looking up to see if he would allow me to just... quit. 

He was frowning. Not a good sign. "You know what four plus four is," he said, pointing at one of the questions. "And you also know plenty about nature and habitats. Yet you aren't answering those questions. Can you tell me what the problem is, Love? Are you nervous, and you just don't want to answer?"

The problem was that I was stupid. And unteachable. And hopeless. And would never, ever be able to read or write. So why bother trying? Why bother explaining?

It was better to not try and intentionally fail than to know that I had tried my best and still wasn't good enough.

 I shrugged, knowing that the action probably wasn't an acceptable answer to Carlisle's question. But, other than openly admitting to being an idiot, it was the best I could manage.

There was a knock on the door to the study, and Edward entered. He glanced at me sympathetically. "Carlisle," he called, "May I please speak to you and Camellia in the hall?"

He knew. Somehow, Edward knew that there was no way schooling would benefit me. He knew that I couldn't read or write. I must have underestimated Edward's ability to read minds- he was able to hear them just as well as he could hear real voices. He must have heard my humiliation and stress and desperation from another room in the house.

I stayed in my seat, tears building in my eyes as I stared at my blank test. It wasn't until Carlisle helped me up from the seat that I moved, having no choice but to follow Edward into the hall as Carlisle's arm came around my shoulders to guide me forward.

Carlisle shut the door behind us, and I glared at the floor. I could feel Edward's eyes on me, and I knew he was reading my mind, testing to see what the best approach would be. Even though he thought he was being helpful, it was incredibly violating. All I could do was shake my head. 

"It's alright, Camellia," Edward promised, though I wasn't sure if he was referring to the mindreading or the conversation that he had called me into the hall for.