I sit there looking down at my hands sitting on the lumpy couch in my counsellor's office. My parents talking to Ms. Timon, I have no clue what they're talking about anymore, I had zoned out as soon as we sat down. Whatever it is, I'm happen I got called in during English Englsh. I hate English, I'm a horrible spelling, I don't try to be. I just aways assume they're spelt differently, I remember they were spelt differently. Everytime I bring that up to others they think I'm crazy.

"Som of hr teachrs bleieve Amy is Dysxelic."

My ears pricked up when I here this word. My friends like to call me that as a joke but I never thought it was true. Just because I have a hard time reading and spelling doesn't mean I have mental problems. I'm just bad at English.

"No," I look up, "I'm not. I swear. I'll get better at spelling." All three of them look at me, puzzled. My mother speaks up, "Honee, It's ok. Yuo con't controll it."

"Yes Amy, we wlil giv yuo erxta suprot and maek srue that yuo wun't be limitd in eaxm." Ms Timon chimes in.

"But everyone will think I''m stupid."

Ms Timon shakes her head, "No oen wlil thinc yuo're sturpid. I pormisse."

She turns to my parents and begins to tell them about all of the progams for those who struggle with reading: Tutors, After-school classes, Teachers aids. I sit there quietly, Imagining every single senario in which my peers will use my stupidity against me. I hear the bell ring, that's lunch. I look up at the Ms Timon, "Can I leave now?"

She nods. I rush out of the room and I don't look back. I walk out of the administartors building and make eye contact with Jamie Hill. She uses this oppurtunity to speak to me, "Hy Amy, I herd yuo're dysxelic, how deos it feel tp be sturpid." I feel a sour look reach my face. A promise my ass.