A Comedy of AR's

Chapter 89
Special Needs

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“Wait!” I called out.  Then I looked at Sammantha.  “Mom, we still have to discuss the elephant in the room.”

“That’s an interesting expression,” the principal commented.  “To what are you referring?”

“Mom, do you want me to start?”

“No, Derrek.  This is my job.”  Sammantha looked across the desk.  “Dr. Glass, the reason my son has been home schooled is because of a birth defect.  So before Derrek is officially enrolled, I’d like to ask if it is school policy to try to make accommodations for students who are, let’s say, different?”

The principal leaned forward.  “Let me assure you, Dr. Adams, that it is my policy and the policy of the administration, that this middle school be accommodating and welcoming to all students, regardless of special needs.”

“But I don’t have special needs, Mom.”

“Actually he does, Dr. Glass,” said Sammantha.  “Derrek was born with a rare disease called Aquagenic Urticaria.  He’s allergic to ordinary tap water.  Any contact with his skin makes him break out in extremely painful hives and swelling.”

“What can we do to accommodate him, Dr. Adams?”

“I ask that a folded blanket or tarp be available in all his classes for him to hide under in case of an accident.  Let his teachers know why.  The other students should not view his horrible condition if he contacts water.  Derrek would call me on his cell phone and say ‘code 9’, and I would rush over to get him … or ‘code 8’ if he has any other type of emergency.  His condition is so rare that you must not call 911.  They wouldn’t know what to do.  I must treat him myself at home.”

The principal asked, “And what kind of phone do you have, Derrek?  Normally, we don’t allow students to carry phones in school.”

I quickly whipped out the ‘Galaxy’ from my back pocket and explained, “My mom got me this phone that folds from top to bottom, so that it fits in my back pocket without sticking up.  None of the kids will see it, and I’ll never take it out.”

“As long as you keep that promise, Derrek, I’ll allow it.”

I had to further speak up for myself.  “I don’t want to be a burden, Dr. Glass and Coach Parker.  I always try to be aware of my surroundings.  My goal will be to get through the school year without any incidents.”

“Derrek,” said Coach Parker, “our teams always shower after games and practices.  What will you do?”

“I’d like to call a team meeting the first day, if that’s okay with you … to explain that I wash up with soap and some other liquid like ginger ale.  I’ll expect my teammates to back me up.  If they won’t, then I probably don’t belong on the team.”

The coach nodded.  “Derrek, I have to say that you’ve got a lot of moxie for a twelve-year-old.  You can be sure that I’ll back you.”

“What if it’s raining?” asked Dr. Glass.

Sammantha noted, “Normally, Derrek will take the bus, but for rainy days, would it be okay if I dropped him off inside the custodian’s garage?”

“Of course,” answered the principal.  “So Derrek, have we taken care of the elephant?”

“Yes, Ma’am … Thank you.  I’ll try not to be burden to anyone.”

“You just let us worry about that, young man.  I’ll think you’ll do great at our school.”

“Thank you, Ma’am.”

The next morning, Sammantha drove me to the high school for my physical.

“So sweety, did our meeting with Dr. Glass and Coach Parker help ease some of your fears?”

“A lot, Mom.  Now it’s just up to me to avoid water.”

“Did you study for your blood test?”

“Funny, Mom … I think I’m pretty normal for twelve.  This should be a piece of cake.”

“Call me when you’re done, sweety … but give me a kiss now, before you go.”

“Here you are … ‘mwaaw’ …. I giggled.  That just seems so weird”

“What’s weird?”

“We’re playing our roles … me, the little boy kissing his mommy goodbye, and then skipping off to school.”

“Don’t you like it?”

“I do, Mom, but it still feels weird … bye!”

“Good luck, sweety.”

I entered Jeffrey Dahmer High School through the front door.  I had no idea who Jeffrey Dahmer was, but I guess he must have been famous for something.  I would be attending Jerry Sandusky Middle School and he must have been famous for something too.  Maybe they were both inventors.

I saw several teachers moving about, getting their classrooms ready for the new school year.  One of them pointed me in the direction of the nurse’s clinic.  The door was open, so I went in and approached a woman dressed in the typical garb of the profession.

“Hello,” I presented myself.  “My name is Derrek Adams and I’m here for my physical.  Are you Nurse TiteRench?”

“Indeed I am, Derrek,” she greeted me with a smile.  “Why don’t you hop up on the table in the exam room and I’ll be right with you.  The first thing we’ll do is check your blood pressure.”

“Okay.”

(‘This shouldn’t take long at all’, I thought … strictly routine.  She must do this for most of the student athletes.)

The nurse approached me.  “Derrek, here at Dahmer High, we have a student nursing program, so today, I’m going to be assisted by one of our best student nurses.  She’s a junior and she’s in the second year of the program.  Here she is now.”

My jaw dropped.  All the fears I’ve ever had in my life came back to me in a second, in one big ‘ball of dread’.  My instincts told me to forget football and get the hell out of there fast … but instead, I just froze … a deer in the headlights, that was me.

“Hello, Derrek,” the student nurse greeted me with a sly smile.

“Oh?” said Nurse TiteRench.  “Do the two of you know each other?”

“Yes, we do,” said the girl.  “I’m Derrek’s babysitter.”

“Oh how sweet,” said the nurse.  “Then you’ve probably already seen him naked.”

“Many times,” said the girl.  Then she approached me and whispered in my right ear, “You tattled on me, you little shit.”

I whispered back with alarm, “No, I didn’t!”  Kitti Power was obviously referring to the fact that Sammantha placed a used condom in the wad of bills that she used to pay her for babysitting me.  Somehow, Kitti must have thought that I told my mom that she and Chikon were having sex in the master bedroom.  (I’m still glad that I stabbed Chikon’s buttocks with a safety pin.)

“Well, well,” said Kitti.  “You’ve certainly grown since the last time I saw you.  Why don’t you roll up a sleeve and we’ll get your blood pressure.”

I offered my right arm and Kitti wrapped the ‘velcroed’ arm band around me and started pumping the rubber bulb.

The pressure was quickly building and building to a point where something was obviously wrong.  “It’s too tight!” I cried out.

“Shut up dim-wit,” she scolded me.

“Owwwww!  Stop!” I yelled.

“You can let it go now, Kitti,” said the nurse.

Finally … relief … the sixteen-year-old looked at the numbers-dial and reported, “He has a 120 blood pressure.”

I asked Kitti, “Is that systolic or diastolic?”

She gave me a strange look and said, “What do those words mean?”

“Kitti, what’s the bottom number?” asked the nurse.

“It’s an 80.  Derrek, those are horrible numbers.  They’re 40 points apart.  What have you been doing, playing with yourself?”

Nurse TiteRench then instructed Kitti to ‘get his measurements and samples now.”

“You heard the lady, dip-wad … Take off your clothes.”

I asked the nurse, “Do I have to?”

“Only if you want to play sports,” she answered.

(Oh shit … Oh fuck … Kitti Power can’t wait to do horrible things to me, and the only reason I had for repeating the seventh grade was to play sports.)

I took off my shirt and then undid the snap on my pants.  My face was already turning red.  I wish this were the other way around … me stripping Kitti.  She still had an unbelievably sexy body for a high-schooler and nothing would be more satisfying than to get her flat on her back and fuck her brains out.  But she was sixteen and I was only twelve.

“Okay,” I said, not wanting to look directly up at her.

“What is this?” she asked, pointing at my underpants.

“What’s what?” I replied.

“You were told to take off your clothes.”

“I did.”

“No, I don’t think so,” Kitti said.  Then she slid her fingers inside my waistband and yanked my tighty whities down to my ankles in one swift motion.

If I didn’t have a boner before, I had one now … and it was not good timing.  Kitti smacked the head of my penis and said, “Don’t point that stupid thing at me.”

“Owww!  Stop it!” I yelled, turning to the side.

“Is there a problem, Kitti?” asked Nurse TiteRench.

“No Ma’am … We just have to keep in mind, from my experience baby-sitting, that Derrek is somewhat mentally defective for his age group.”

“I am not!” I yelled back.

Kitti pointed to my feet.  “Socks too, you little twit.  Get ‘em off, and then stand on the scale.”

Now fully nude and fully erect I stepped up onto the scale.  Kitti placed a ruler at the base of my penis.  “Erectile length four inches,” she announced.

“Why do you need that?” I asked with some embarrassment.

“For your cup size, dummy.”

Kitti then slid the horizontal head-stick down and rested it on the top of my head.

“Height, five foot two,” she proclaimed.  Then she slid the weights back and forth till the arrow was balanced in the center.

“Weight, 125 pounds … Hey Derrek, why are you so short?”

(I wanted to respond, “Why are your tits so small?”)  But instead, I said, “Five foot two is not that short for twelve.”

“I was referring to your penis, idiot.”