Eyes

The air is thick, hot, and silent. The low hum of a computer is magnified in the silence, and accompanied by the familiar sounds of papers rustling, noses sniffling, desks creaking, and the occasional cough. People's minds are wandering as they try to concentrate on the task at hand, be it an assignment, or an intricate doodle.

"Does anyone have a calculator?" A male voice breaks the silence, and sends a ripple of alertness through the room as heads jerk away from their daydreaming to focus on this "Savior" who has temporarily given their dormant brains something to do. He stands lazily; eyes drooped, and tongue somewhat exposed, holding a notebook and a few papers.

"I do," sounds a soft, feminine voice from the back. The eyes follow in the direction of the sound, leaving the boy to stand alone as if he were no longer as interesting. They all watch the girl intently as she rummages through her bag, retrieving a small calculator and holding it up and out. The eyes travel back towards the boy, and observe as he makes his way through the sea of stares, and clumsily seizes the device being offered.

"Thanks," he slurs, as the class becomes aware of his disability. He struggles to relieve himself of the judging; the silent making fun, and trips over a hardcover book. He lands on the rug with a dull thump. The air becomes hostile, almost attacking, as snickers are stifled; some not so successfully.

The boy scrambles up from the floor, gathering his scattered belongings, and blinking back the blatant moisture that has formed over his kind eyes. Still drowning in the fixed gazes, he slumps back into his seat.

One by one, the eyes once again find their tasks, or go back to their daydreaming. The air returns to silence, and is then broken by the distinct ringing of the bell. Study hall is over. The children are free.