Work Text:
When I turned 15, Fiona brought home a laptop. It came in a sleek white box, an envelope taped to the shoddy wrapping. Instead of a birthday card, I got paperwork.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“Your birthday gift, clearly.” She pushed her slice of cake aside and poured herself another glass of wine. “You should learn from other people, not just your books, boyo.”
“No, thank you.” I shoved the papers back in the envelope and thrust the whole gift back in her direction. “I’m fine as it is.”
“You’re fine?” Fiona arched an eyebrow.
I wasn’t. I’d spent most of 14 asleep.
I could use a distraction. Some real connection. But this wasn’t school. I wouldn’t get the squeak of trainers on tile or the rustle of papers as a room full of students settled in for the day’s lesson. Online school would be a window into a world I could never touch. A cheap imitation at best. (Like everything else in my life.)
I couldn’t say any of that to Fiona.
“It’s a thoughtful gift,” I said instead. “But I’d rather you bought some new records. For a proper education.”
Fiona nodded.
We’d both learned how to pretend.