Exceptional

Chapter 1

*Disclaimer: Before writing this story, I really tried my hardest to study the disabilities and conditions I used. If you have a personal experience with any of these disabilities, or know a thing or two about one of them, feel free to contact me so I can portray them correctly.*

Bugs. Bugs. Bugs, everywhere. Covering her were angry ants, ladybugs, wasps, beetles, all the creepy crawlies. She was helpless, unable to move. What were she to do? She refused to kill anything, regardless of how much she hated it or not. Where were the bees, the only insect she admired? Coming from above was a spider. But wait, why was it ringing?

Charlotte woke up with a start. Her alarm was going off. She sighed in relief. It was just a dream. Just a dream. Climbing out of bed, she shut her alarm off and looked in the mirror. I am Charlotte Wallis and that was just a dream. She admired her black braids. No bugs crawling in there!
She was wearing a green and yellow tank top, symbolizing Jamaica, where she was born. She and her Mom had moved to Canada when she was only 1, as there was not enough well-paying jobs in Jamaica available to her mom.
Her mom was an icon to her. The amazing woman who had given her life sacrificed so much for her. But they all told her she couldn't do it. Someone with Down Syndrome raising an Autistic kid alone? Impossible. They are still alive? Inspirational. Everywhere thet went they were treated like they were less than whole, incapable of doing anything. Who says a family with disability can't be happy? I'm happy. Mom is happy. We're happy.

[Art by Luna Rose! MissLunaRose Check out her page!]

Charlotte lived her life being the minority. The minority of Canada was black. The minority of Canada was disabled. The minority of Canada was LGBT+. She could go on and on listing the things that made her "abnormal". But did she care? No. Did it bug her that others did? Yes. It's only 7:06 and I'm already contemplating my life. That's a record. she thought to herself. She turned on her iPod, and, without even looking at the screen, played some Ziggy Marley music. His songs put her at ease. Hearing music from a Jamaican artist reminded her of her true home. She broke into her happy stim, bouncing and snapping her fingers. By the time she had stimmed to a few songs, she had already forgotten about her dream.

She did the tasks she was able to do: make breakfast, shower, get dressed, and make lunch. But she was still learning how to do her hair, and driving was off the list. Driving was one of her biggest fears. All your life you depend on people; a baby depends on it's mother. A kid depends on it's family and role models. People like to say they are independent. But are they really? If you couldn't rely on the grocery store to have food, would you be able to grow food on your own? If you couldn't rely on the construction workers to build you a home, would you be able to harvest the wood and supplies, and build you're own home by yourself? It would be tricky after awhile. Charlotte spent her whole life depending on others, just like every living thing does. But was she willing to put her life in the hands of others on the road? No. One selfish person could simply check their phone while driving, and both of their lives would be over in a heartbeat.

Cynthia, Charlotte's Mom greeted Charlotte with a kiss on the cheek. "Good morning, Char." Charlotte wrapped her arms around her mom, hugging her tightly.

"Ready for school?" Cynthia asked. "Yep!" Charlotte answered cheerfully. The drive to school was a short one, but it consisted of several songs Charlotte and Cynthia dramatically sang, and plenty of laughter. Upon her arrival, Charlotte looked for her friend Adalin.

Adalin, a medium-sized tan Muslim girl, was standing in the hallways, seemingly searching for something. Charlotte approached her with cheer. "Hello Adalin!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Hiya, Charlotte!" Adalin greeted, still scanning the hallways for something. "Have you seen Liv?"

Charlotte hesitated to process what Adalin had said. Adalin was a fast talker! Because of her ADHD, she talked as if driven by a motor. She generally had a lot to say, and she usually said it pretty fast. Adalin was a fast person in general. "No, not yet. Let's look for her!" Charlotte suggested. She was quick to offer her help. The two girls wandered down the hallway.

***

A little teenager was fallen on her side, her wheelchair pressed against her. She watched people walk by, taking no notice to the world around them. Listening to music, tapping at their screens, or simply not paying attention at all. It was hard for her to walk, and so she needed her wheelchair. But at the position she was in, there was no hope of her weak body pulling her heavy wheelchair off her. "Help!" she pleaded. Nobody acknowledged her, not even a glance in her direction. Should she yell louder? She didn't want to make a scene. Maybe it was better this way. Maybe she had done something bad. Maybe karma wanted her to fall. She probably deserved this. Was this what her mom meant when she said that people like her would never make it in the real world?

To be continued
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