“The boy’s smart,” John had practically growled at Mrs. Manning.
She simply smiled at him and then turned her attention to his father. “I never thought otherwise. Sam just has a speech disability. One, with time and help, he can overcome. I’ve set him up with a speech therapist here at the school. Sam with have therapy three days a week. He’ll learn techniques to help him deal with this, how to speak without cluttering his sentences. We just want to help your son, Mr. Winchester.”
John had turned to him, narrowed his eyes as if he was actually looking at him, seeing him for the first time before turning back to Mrs. Manning. “Fine, help the boy. Do what you need to do help him with this.”
He had been so happy that day. He finally had a name for what he was dealing with. He had like the therapist. Mr. Valcor was kind. He made the sessions fun. He had even gotten Dean involved in a few of them so someone at home knew how to work with him; help him to practice outside of school. He would practice repeating a letter several times, slowly until he could say it without adding anything to it. He would chant a word over and over again, building up his confidence. He was making progress. He didn’t want to lose that. What if the new school didn’t have a therapist? What if they didn’t understand him? It was the what ifs that scare him.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he sniffled. He didn’t want to cry. Crying was weak and he couldn’t be weak, especially in front of their father.
He felt Dean’s arm slide around his shoulder, hugging him closer. “Scared?” Dean whispered to him. He nodded his head, keeping his eyes closed. “Me, too.”
Sam opened his eyes, shocked at hearing what Dean had just admitted to him. He turned to look at his brother. He breathed deeply, centering himself before he spoke. “You . . . are?” He spoke slowly so he was mindful of what he wanted to say, even if it was only two words. He only wanted those two words to come out, nothing more.
“Yeah, but it will be okay. Promise,” Dean responded with a slight smile. “We’ve got each other. And, we can still practice what Mr. Valcor showed you. I took all the stuff he gave you.”
“You . . . did?” He asked as he sat up a little straighter next to Dean.
“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, the smile growing wider on his face.
“Okay,” Sam managed to get out and then returned a dimpled smile to Dean before he went back to resting his head on Dean’s shoulder.
“Anyone makes fun of you. I’ll kick the shit out of them,” Dean said with a laugh which got Sam to giggle.
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carisma_sensei
Fill: Speak and Be Heard P2
Date: 2018-11-04 03:35 pm (UTC)She simply smiled at him and then turned her attention to his father. “I never thought otherwise. Sam just has a speech disability. One, with time and help, he can overcome. I’ve set him up with a speech therapist here at the school. Sam with have therapy three days a week. He’ll learn techniques to help him deal with this, how to speak without cluttering his sentences. We just want to help your son, Mr. Winchester.”
John had turned to him, narrowed his eyes as if he was actually looking at him, seeing him for the first time before turning back to Mrs. Manning. “Fine, help the boy. Do what you need to do help him with this.”
He had been so happy that day. He finally had a name for what he was dealing with. He had like the therapist. Mr. Valcor was kind. He made the sessions fun. He had even gotten Dean involved in a few of them so someone at home knew how to work with him; help him to practice outside of school. He would practice repeating a letter several times, slowly until he could say it without adding anything to it. He would chant a word over and over again, building up his confidence. He was making progress. He didn’t want to lose that. What if the new school didn’t have a therapist? What if they didn’t understand him? It was the what ifs that scare him.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and he sniffled. He didn’t want to cry. Crying was weak and he couldn’t be weak, especially in front of their father.
He felt Dean’s arm slide around his shoulder, hugging him closer. “Scared?” Dean whispered to him. He nodded his head, keeping his eyes closed. “Me, too.”
Sam opened his eyes, shocked at hearing what Dean had just admitted to him. He turned to look at his brother. He breathed deeply, centering himself before he spoke. “You . . . are?” He spoke slowly so he was mindful of what he wanted to say, even if it was only two words. He only wanted those two words to come out, nothing more.
“Yeah, but it will be okay. Promise,” Dean responded with a slight smile. “We’ve got each other. And, we can still practice what Mr. Valcor showed you. I took all the stuff he gave you.”
“You . . . did?” He asked as he sat up a little straighter next to Dean.
“Yeah,” Dean said quietly, the smile growing wider on his face.
“Okay,” Sam managed to get out and then returned a dimpled smile to Dean before he went back to resting his head on Dean’s shoulder.
“Anyone makes fun of you. I’ll kick the shit out of them,” Dean said with a laugh which got Sam to giggle.
So, maybe the move would be so bad, this time.