The Human Experiment (bxbxb)

The Human Experiment

Lunchtime was just like usual as he swung from the swing set behind his home. Well, it wasn't really a home as much as a place for kids who didn't have one. He didn't really remember his parents, but he did keep the one thing they had left for him when they dropped him off on himself at all times. Glancing down at the small stuffed bear in his lap, he smiled slightly. It was the only thing they'd given him besides his looks, which were somewhat normal. Rolland had light brownish-blond hair and chocolate brown eyes. He'd thought over the years that if his parents had given him the bear to remember them by, then they were coming back eventually.

That's what he had thought when he was growing up at least. Every day he'd waited for them to walk through the big double doors at the front of the orphanage building. They would ask the head lady, Mrs. Spryfield, how he was doing, then adopt him back to them. He'd have the family he'd always wanted and get to live in a house, maybe even have a pet. That wasn't the reality that he got, though. Rolland had lived at the orphanage all of his life, and that would be seventeen years come next week.

At least he'd gotten to find some solace in school. He was homeschooled during elementary because of his handicap, but come middle school, he had been allowed to go to public school with everyone else. Of course, he had to take a white board with him along with a few markers to communicate, but it was totally worth it to be out of the orphanage for a while. With the board, though, came the bullies, but he was already familiar with them. They came at him in droves, especially because he hardly ever spoke and couldn't hear at all. Rolland thought it made them pathetic, but when he wrote that down and showed it to one of them, he got kicked in the face and beaten to the ground, making him quickly realize he shouldn't do that again.

He had just come home from school on the bus and was enjoying the swings before the more aggressive kids got home—mainly the younger ones that would bite—when he felt eyes on him. Granted, he couldn't hear, but it was like the saying that if you lose one sense, your others will grow. He could almost sense when people were looking at him or close by. It was handy, especially when he couldn't hear them approaching.

After a minute, Rolland let his gaze lift until it met Mrs. Spryfield's. Having her come find him was surprising in itself, but when he looked right behind her and saw a man and woman following, he was a little confused. Are they social workers? I didn't do anything bad, he thought to himself nervously. Without really thinking, his hands went to his stuffed bear, wrapping it in a hug against his chest as the three stopped in front of him. Mrs. Spryfield pulled out a small whiteboard that was tucked under her arm, then a marker, and began writing.

"Hello, Rolland, these nice people would like to talk to you, is that alright?"

People actually want to talk to me? He could talk, kind of, but being deaf, his voice was extremely quiet and sometimes sounded funny to others, so he had learned to keep his mouth shut. Thus, he just grabbed his own whiteboard kept on a small chain hanging around his neck and removed the magnetic marker to begin writing. When he'd finished, he turned the board around and gave a slight smile.

"Okay."

Mrs. Spryfield turned to the people. "Do you need me to stay?" The two shook their heads, then pointed to the whiteboard Mrs. Spryfield had. After a moment of thought, she shrugged and nodded, handing over the item along with the marker that went along with it. She then walked away, waving to Rolland to signal that's what she was doing. Wait... she is leaving me with these people? But she didn't even tell me who they are.

He glanced at the two adults, not really knowing what to do in this situation. The woman had light brown eyes and dark brown hair that reached her shoulders and was styled well in slight wavy curls while the man had short blond hair and bright blue eyes. They couldn't be interested in adopting him. He was almost seventeen and deaf. Every time someone had come in to inquire about him, Mrs. Spryfield only had to say that one word and they would quickly redirect their interest to another kid. Not that he was bitter, far from it, he'd just gotten used to thinking that this would be his home until he was eighteen, then he'd be on his own.