Not All Fish Can Climb Trees

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

The word echoed through his head. Ever-present, no matter how he slammed his hands against his ears or drowned out the world with hard rock. The word was there. He knew it better than he knew his name.

He'd heard it said behind his back all his life. Even to his face, when his dad lost his temper and when his sister saw fit to remind him what she thought of him. You're so stupid, she'd say, a sneer on her face. Don't you know anything?

He could never find the words to fight back. Maybe he was stupid. His face would get red and blotched, and he'd storm away. Emotion was easy. Thinking, perhaps not so much. But he wasn't stupid. If only he knew how to say it.

A speech impediment, they called it. A learning disability. He knew what those words meant. And it wasn't his fault.

Stupid.

Because he couldn't solve a math problem?

Stupid.

Because he lost track of time?

Stupid.

Because he reads slower than he should?

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No. No. No.

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No.