Written Special 2: First Day of SchoolTWs: Misgendering (Though it is both confusing/both ways (both

Written Special 2: First Day of SchoolTWs: Misgendering (Though it is both confusing/both ways (both he and she, to be blunt,) and before Frisk is out) and Infantilization (Though Frisk IS only 5)Click. Click, click, click.Frisk’s chest swelled. The new pin was like a little finger magnet. It had a little metal piece that could move in a 180 direction and click whenever it landed, each and every time. Whoever made these things didn’t seem to think about making them silent or subtle, even though the design made it clear the pin was meant for a child.Frisk flicked it again, watching the pin bounce to the other side and cover the two letters on that end. Back and forth…“Try not to mess with that, okay, baby?” Lightly tanned hands eased Frisk’s fingers from the shiny pin, giving their hand a tiny, warm squeeze. Frisk blinked, curling their fingers around Maman’s hand.  She’d been touchier than usual today, holding hands and insisting on watching Precious do their hair.  It wasn’t like Frisk minded her clinginess, but she acted like this whenever she was anxious, so that meant Frisk should pay close attention to whatever it was that was igniting her anxiety. Which was….?The little room they were in was bright and cheerful, warm and welcoming, yet Frisk’s other mother stood in front of the desk with her legs tense and her expression forced.Smile doesn’t touch eyes. Curves = happy?“Hopefully there won’t be any problems with that?” Mama was saying. “I don’t want this big day to go wrong…”Repeating words: big day. Big = emotional. Hopefully not as emotional as their fifth birthday. Everyone climbed in a car (Frisk got to hide in a cozy little back nook) and drove to see Maman’s family. Too many tears and French people. There was so much happening, Frisk could barely grasp why everyone was so teary-eyed.Something to do with getting so big and being so cute. Meaningless, really! All words people applied to what shaped Frisk’s being. The adults should’ve turned their tears into hugs. Frisk liked hugs, and being carried, and climbing on the taller family members. Frisk knew people cried to get their emotions out, and sometimes Frisk felt things very Much and water built up in their eyes, but if a day is supposed to be celebrating Frisk, they should all try to do things Frisk liked. Perhaps going to the lake or beach. Or just the park. Somewhere big with things to do.  But none of that happened. Like today, the emotions shown likely had little to do with Frisk themself. That was okay, though, because Frisk knew their mothers still loved them. The two of them couldn’t realize Frisk was eager, so they focused on what they knew. People were like that, sometimes. Well, at least some people. Frisk hadn’t actually interacted with too many people before..But today presented something new. Possibilities. People to see that Frisk didn’t know. Voices to hear that weren’t on TV.Smiles to see, hands to squeeze.New people. New faces. Frisk’s fingers twitched, tempted to fiddle again already. They reached for Mama’s hand with their free one, but she didn’t seem to notice. She was focused on her conversation about Frisk’s “situation.”Instead of Mama, Maman leaned in and flicked the moveable part of their pin to the left, covering the word on that side. “There we go. It’s important everybody see this each day!”Important = necessary. Pin =… Necessary?Just word. One word each side. Two.The receptionist- Frisk hadn’t yet looked at them long enough to discern a solid image of them- smiled. “Ah, I see, so we should rely on whatever Frisk has set it to? That’s simple enough!”Frisk set it? It… The pin.Hm.Frisk’s gaze traveled to the tall, tall faces of each one. Maman: uneasy, her dark eyes flicking to and from Frisk. Mama: focused, smiling at the receptionist. Frisk studied her face.Worst lipstick color. Too pink. Clothes blue. Lipstick needs: dark.She just smiled. Terrible lipstick and all. They had tried to tell her that it looked bad. Apparently shoving a GOOD lipstick tube in her face and pointing at her lips wasn’t explanation enough. She assumed they were playing.Frisk’s gaze traveled up and up until they could see their mother’s eyes. “That’s right! We don’t want to upset Frisk.”Her gaze was on the receptionist. The receptionist was looking right back. They prodded their computer screen with a computer pen. “So, I’ll just go ahead and put Frisk on the card, I’ll leave a note on the back that it’s a nickname, though.” Frisk focused more on the receptionist the longer they spoke. They had light brown skin and green hair. Piercings lined their ears; shiny little spikes that seemed to stab through the shell of their ear and emerge. How did they sleep with those things in? Frisk wanted to stare for longer, but there was more to observe. The little name card pinned to the receptionist’s shirt made little sense to Frisk, save for the little Venus symbol from those entwined earrings Mama would wear sometimes. And didn’t Maman have a tattoo of those somewhere? Venus pin. Earrings. Tattoo. Shared traits.“That sounds good.” Mama said.“So this is what the card looks like,” the receptionist swiveled the screen around to face Frisk’s parents. They stood on their toes, looking up. “We like to leave a spot for stickers right here. Some kids like putting little SOUL stickers on their tags." Frisk felt the hand holding theirs tense. "It’s not required, is it?” Maman asked. “Frisk wouldn’t like that…”Frisk just stared at her, brows creased. They actually liked stickers, but they also knew that whenever the SOUL subject arose, it was best to stay quiet (which wasn’t hard.) Unlike most things, Frisk’s moms didn’t like to discuss that subject directly in front of Frisk. They got to learn what ovarian cysts were because “Frisk isn’t listening” but SOULs were inappropriate subject matter. Moms were weird. Hm…Frisk blinked, and the people around them had moved, conversation skipping ahead. “- it’ll be printed any minute!” The receptionist- she?- said, hitting a button on her computer. A soft hum started up in the corner of the room, somewhere Frisk couldn’t see. “I’ll message the teachers for Frisk’s class now,“ she moved to type on her computer. "And let them know. “Frisk pursed their lips. Eighth time today."So there’s a few teachers?”She nodded, tapping her nails against the glossy plastic of her computer mouse. Been a while since Frisk had seen any of those. “Yeah, we’ve got a few. Something like this isn’t a problem at all, though! They’re all very enthusiastic about our students. Frisk might like-” she stopped, leaning back in her seat and gazing at something out of Frisk’s sight. After a moment, she smiled and leaned over the counter. "Oh, Frisk! Frisk, sweetie!“They looked up at her. Her gaze flickered over their face, confirming they were paying attention. "Your card is done printing! Let’s give you that first.”It was strange….Someone was looking directly at them and speaking directly to them. She didn’t even try to mention  the card thing to Mama and Maman. So that meant…It belongs to [Frisk] alone?Only?Frisk stood on their toes and peered up at the receptionist while she bustled about. Their gaze shifted to the small white square in the employee’s hand. As they watched, laser-focused, she attached a small metal clip to it. They preemptively reached a hand out, because that had to be the Thing that was for Them. It was probably just a card, but it was for Frisk and Frisk alone, and there were very few of those kinds of things. Mama also reached for it, but the receptionist’s aim had been low (because it was for Frisk) so Frisk’s hand reached it first (good, because it was for them.) They gripped it tight, feeling heat radiate off of the plastic. Few things were given to them so directly by people outside of family. Though, then again, most strange grown-ups they met were important business people who had grown-up things to talk about with Frisk’s moms. So maybe it was just that those people were rude.That made sense. If everyone here was so polite, then this would be fun.The card was so fresh the fumes from the printer still lingered in the air surrounding it. Frisk squeezed it between two fingers, rubbing their fingertips all over the soft plastic.Warm…They could feel Mama’s bewildered gaze. When they looked at her, she was focused on the receptionist, her hand carefully settled on the edge of the desk instead of staying in the air where it had been snubbed. The receptionist didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, but Maman was fiddling with her bracelet. Giveaway. Anxious.The receptionist looked down at Frisk. “Are you fine with the clip or would you like a lanyard, Frisk?”Frisk blinked. She said their name a lot, and looked directly at them a lot. It was kind of strange. Frisk’s parents’ eyes turned towards them, and suddenly, three pairs of eyes bore into them. Time seemed to skip forward a few seconds. The next moment, Mama was bent down to their height, touching their face. The card felt a little too tight in their hands, digging into their skin. They unclenched, wondering when they had stiffened.“Not again….” Mama whispered.“Everything okay?” The receptionist asked.Ninth.Frisk looked up, about to nod, but Mama interrupted. “Oh, baby, are you okay? Do you feel all right? Is everything fine?”"Ma'am, I think Frisk’s fine,” the receptionist blinked. “Absence epilepsy is relatively harmless. And you’re trying a new medication, right?”Mama pulled Frisk into her arms. Smells: peach conditioner. Feels: Soft blouse. Warm… Mama huffed, "Yes, but it’s obviously not working!" "Love, it’s only been a week, don’t worry too much,” Maman leaned in, touching her wife’s shoulder. “I suppose…” she leaned back, rubbing her eyes. More dramatics, though these ones were from a good place.  Everyone always had to act as though Frisk was in pain, even when they weren’t. It meant they cared. But still. Frisk made a small grunt, forcing the noise out with some slight effort. All eyes returned to them. Frisk clipped it on their shirt for everyone to see: they could do it on their own! The receptionist’s eyes drifted, flicking back to the two women besides Frisk “See? Frisk is ready to start the day!”“Ah….” Mama sighed. “I suppose…”“Don’t worry! There’s nothing we can’t accommodate, including gender identity and names." She smiled at the two of them. "Honestly, good on you for giving your child so much freedom!”Same phrase. Over and over. Smile. Laugh. Humility.Mama spoke first, bringing a hand to her face and chuckling. Now they were all just talking praise, mindless words that didn’t really have anything to do with Frisk and instead had everything to do with their mothers. While the adults went at it, Frisk unclipped and examined the ID tag. They knew that was their face looking back. The letters were their name. A gleaming little symbol stood beside Frisk’s name: an outline of an open mouth with a tiny speech balloon extending from it. A large red X crossed out the image. Indicating ‘no" or “bad” or “do not." "Do not talk.”Interesting. There were tiny bumps underneath Frisk’s name.They ran their fingers over the odd little bumps under the letters. Their oldest sister read books using this. She sometimes told Frisk about the books. She called them Braille.Braille. Name above = name below.Braille, probably of their name.  Frisk ran their fingers over the bumps again, counting each dot.The rest of the card was just letters and numbers. Flat ones, so Frisk couldn’t even feel them. Boring things that didn’t have anything to do with Frisk. They tuned back in, still rubbing their fingertips on the pleasant little bumps.“We"re just trying to do our best as parents. Frisk deserves that!" Frisk gave the tag a flick. When the sensation proved satisfying, they did it again. Tap, tap, tap…They smiled, wiggling their fingers on their left hand happily. Tap, tap-"Aw!” Mama covered her smile with her hand.Aw? Discomfort replaced the joyful motion. Frisk hated when she stared. They stopped and dropped their hands, letting their limbs swing by their side instead. The receptionist continued. “And today, we should use “he?”“Yes!” Mama smiled. She wanted today to be one of those days. She usually preferred the “she” days. Maman usually preferred the “he” days. But it depended on the day and whatever mood struck their mothers’ minds. Yesterday, Maman had said, "I want to say my youngest daughter is starting school tomorrow! Let’s go take pictures with her right now!” And then they did pictures.   Frisk got to eat candy after the pictures were taken. Hmm….Table? Table workers. Bowls on tables. Candy bowl? Where?Frisk peered past the receptionist. A bowl of hard candy sat on the corner of her desk, multicolored squares and circles flourished with a bright piece of paper.Scribbles. Blurry. Frisk looked closer. Letters. Words.Ugh…Those letters all made sense individually. A was an A. But together, they were nonsense. Even worse, they were supposed to correspond to sounds. A was the same as an “ah” sound. Ridiculous! Sounds weren’t pictures! The two things were completely different! .And yet, everyone else took the weird little shapes and connected them to sounds. They could turn pictures into noise. And why? Shapes didn’t equal sound. Everyone was so weird, acting like Frisk was odd. And maybe they were, but so what? Frisk would stick to pictures and everyone could use their picture sounds if they wanted to.Or, so they wished. They couldn’t figure out how to comfort their mothers and tell them than Frisk would be fine, that’s why the two decided to bring Frisk here. As much as Frisk smiled and played and looked happy, the two couldn’t believe Frisk was going to be happy or “okay” unless they mastered this ability.Happy now. + This = happy future….?Maman said this place would “help.” That Frisk could learn to do this weird thing that everyone wanted them to do. Even though it made their eye go funny. Too much work when Frisk could just as easily be told what the words meant. The talk was still going on. Frisk kept an ear tuned in.“You know, there’s three other children sort of like that in Frisk’s new class! Of course, that’s not quite the same, but maybe Frisk will be able to make friends with those children?”Like that.Like that could mean several things. Alternating dates. Both at once. Parents chose words. “That’s interesting…!” Mama smiled.Smile touching eyes? No. Awkward.Why?Her problem.Will ignore.Frisk had better things to do than listen to Mama get all stiff. Frisk stood on their toes and eyed the candy bowl. Nobody had noticed them yet. They could see the small hard jawbreaker brand of candies that Mama said were made of chalk in there. Tall enough? Yes, yes-Frisk reached up and grabbed a candy.Then another one.Maman tutted gently. “You need to ask first!”She picked up the slip of paper and held it down to eye-level.“See?”Frisk looked at the paper. Their vision started to wobble, warp, and gargle the letters into incomprehension. It didn’t help that these letters were handwritten- the little pen marks were far whirlier and confusing than the printed letters Frisk was used to.“Oh, it’s fine,” the receptionist said. “Those are here for the kids, anyways! And not all of our kids can speak first. Typically, if a child can read the note and ask, we give them extra candy, but anyone can have some.”Mama smiled. “That’s nice of you!”Maman sighed just slightly and replaced the card. Frisk pulled the wrapper off the candy and stuffed it in their mouth. They glanced at their other mother, watching her movements closely. Mama facing. Smiling. Looking at.“It’s a good thing, since Frisk can’t read OR speak….” she sighed.Frisk rolled the candy around, getting it into a good position in their mouth. Somewhere it wouldn’t move too much and clack against their teeth.Hard. No teeth. Waiting.  Slow flavor.The receptionist smiled. "You’ll be surprised how quickly kids pick up on stuff!”“I hope this will all be okay… It’s such a big change for Frisk,” Maman sighed. Smells like tears. Salt. That meant-They stiffened, enveloped in a hug, and smiled, hugging back.————————————Frisk didn’t want their moms to worry. They were fine, and would show it. They always worried, worried, worried! Worried about what was best! Parents.This, class, though…Faces. Colors. Movement.Movement.Where should they sit? So many choices… Not that it mattered in the end. Chairs. Colors. Red, blue, green, yellow, purple, orange…There were also words on the digital board. Frisk turned.Same colors. Code? Rules?Rules, huh….Frisk blinked, and all the moving shapes and faces had moved. They shook their head and focused on the screen. Words and a video of someone making gestures with their ends. The video was on repeat, the gestures playing over and over. Frisk stood still and watched for a moment.Video with words. Video = words. Movements = words?But Frisk didn’t know those words. So they’d have to read. Or try to. So long as they tried, they did a great job! That’s what Maman used to say, until….she realized Frisk trying didn’t mean much. They tried and tried and failed and failed. Repetition didn’t change a thing when the letters simply refused to do what they did for everyone else. It had felt nice to be praised for simply attempting, though… So this, too, was worth an attempt. Even though nobody would praise them.Frisk stepped back. They squinted. They knew these letters. They knew them all. But the words wouldn’t connect. Maybe if they tried something else. Frisk covered their squinty eye until the letters came into focus. The words floated there, just looking like a bunch of lines wiggling in space. People were supposed to take the letters and hear the sound each one made inside their head, but Frisk couldn’t hear anything. Lines were meant to form pictures, drawings, cartoons- not angular little shapes that connected to specific noises!Hate. Annoying. Letter, letters, noise. Instead of pictures? Why?A voice rang out, interrupting their concentration. "Hey, you!” Frisk turned, seeing a tall child with pale white skin and a big smile eyeing them. A big blurry smile against a big round face. Perched on the child’s nose was a thick pair of complicated glasses, not like the glasses Frisk had seen at home. The arms of the spectacles gleamed just slightly and adjusted the lens as Frisk watched.Quiet hum. Adjustable lens. Glowing arms.Helper glasses. Bionic. Computer?Pale eyes. Pale smile.“Your eye’s funny, right? Cause you covering it?” The child said, pointing a blurred hand at Frisk. Frisk pulled their hand away. Their eye adjusted its position, focusing on the child before them.“Oh, there it goes. Gone!” The other child giggled. Frisk puffed their cheeks out and looked around some more. “Freddy’s eye goes out also. You guys… Got mirror eyes! Left against right!”Freddy? Who? The child spoke like this information was clear to Frisk.The other kid pointed to a child just now sitting down to the right…Glasses. Brown skin, bright brown eyes. Nervous.Frisk gave him a small smile. Sometimes that helped nervous people.“Um, you could sit with us. But sometimes we got ages that make us sit other places…” he said. “I’m six.”“I’m seven!” his friend said.Frisk held up their free hand, holding out five fingers.“Oh, five? You’re basically little!”Frisk stared and puffed out their cheeks in frustration. They weren’t LITTLE. They were small! There was a difference.Little = young. Small = size.“That’s not nice!” Freddy said, his voice jumping in pitch. “It’s the truth. Being five is like being four. Being four is little. My sister is three and she’s even little-er,” his friend nodded their head. “So that’s little.”“Little ages can still be here…” he mumbled back. He looked at Frisk. “You can still sit with us. She’s mean, though.”“Am NOT. I’m seven!” The other child- she?- glared. “Hey, hey, listen, okay? I saw something! Ages go in order…”5, 6, 7…Frisk pulled the chair out and sat down. The ages did go in order. So she could count, that was good. Frisk could count, too, three, four-“You don’t say much, huh?” she observed, tilting her head and squinting pale blue eyes at them. Say. Speak. Voice.No.Frisk shrugged, because she was right; they didn’t. Yesterday they sort of said “Mama,” but their mouth hated it. School was supposed to “help” with the talking, but would it really? Help = fix?Help =make easier?Words =/= noise.Easier?Help = ..?Freddy pointed at Frisk’s card. “Yeah, that’s why you got the talky mark. Kids who don’t talk much got that. Like Tuesday.”She scoffed. “That’s a day." "So? It’s also a name. Anything can be a name…”“Wait. I have a name, and so do you.” She said, intently. Suddenly, she whipped around to Frisk. “You!! You know my name, right?!”Frisk stared at her little pointing finger and shook their head. That always meant “no.” But if the question was a big one, Frisk couldn’t shake their head. Annoying.She kept going without waiting for their response. “I’m Ceecee, and, ummmm…”Frisk blinked. Things had changed.Ten?Oh. Freddy was speaking now. Whatever Ceecee said, they’d missed it.“The name.” Freddy said, pointing at Frisk’s tag. “Name.” He looked at Frisk. “Right? Your name’s on it.”Name?Frisk looked down, then back up, confused. What did they want?Ceecee turned and stared at Frisk’s card for a long moment. Her glasses shifted a fraction, adjusting. Frisk watched closely. Some people on their tablet computer used those same glasses, especially on Frisk’s shows. The exact sounds used to explain what the heck they did were gone from Frisk’s memory, but Frisk was positive they had to do with eye issues. Though her eyes didn’t seem to have any issues. Unless being blue was an issue….Maybe it was. Their eldest sister had blue eyes and she had her fair share of eye issues.After four seconds of focusing, she finally announced: “I knew that! I mean the other things!” Her hands flew to her hips.Freddy sighed. “Auntie said use me. I’m he….and you’re-”“Sheeeee. Yes!” Ceecee said. She looked at Frisk for an answer.Sometimes people asked for those words. Especially since the one incident on video. Some people did it before, but it really kicked into gear after the video incident with the new mayor. Frisk knew a mayor was the person who lead the town, but they didn’t really think too hard about what all that meant. Maman said the person “conducting the interview” did a “faux paus.”Mama had laughed and said, “Sure, but can you blame him for that kinda mistake?”Frisk still didn’t know what “that” is, but they did notice how everyone suddenly started asking for those WORDS… Like now. Which was weird. They had the pin since forever. Actually, Frisk had never used any words but the same two.Weird… Was there other options? Huh. Frisk just shrugged and pointed at their pin. “Oh, I don’t read.” She smiled. “Buuut… I like the pin even if the words are bad. Is it yellow? I like yellow. You should match me,” she pulled on the straps of her bright yellow top until they stretched an inch away from her pale skin. Her gaze stayed on the tag. “Ooh! Wait… WAIT, I know this.”Frisk blinked.“I know THAT,” Ceecee leaned in until her finger touched the pin, “Is what people call a H!”“That’s an E next to it,” Freddy said. “So H-E.” “Oh, so HE. Like you!” She smiled. Freddy shrugged. “Yeah, but I don’t gotta pin…” “Yeah! That’s weird. I wanna pin. Why’s Frisk gotta pin?”So pins were unusual. Frisk was “different.” They knew this, already, since they heard the word whispered between their mothers more than a few times. Also “special” and “sweet little angel.” Hm.Frisk wanted to tell the two that the pin would probably say "she” tomorrow, but they couldn’t think of how to communicate this. Would Ceecee be happy if they matched in that way? They liked her so far. She seemed friendly, and talkative, and reminded them of their sister.Freddy glanced at Frisk, then shrugged. ”Um, I dunno, I guess to remind people?”Frisk nodded a little. Remind others. Ceecee looked past them, then raised a hand, pointing. “He gotta button like them…”Frisk looked around, not sure who she was talking about. Freddy pointed more clearly at a red-haired child a few seats down.“Ceecee means Gray.”The child named “Gray” was cheerfully talking to the children around them, seeming for all the world like any other child. “Noooo, I mean they,” she insisted, frowning.Freddy looked at her. “That still wrong. They isn’t the name. It’s-”"I don’t talk, either. Talking is for…for….BABIES.” Ceecee insisted, blinking watery blue eyes behind her glasses. She was talking now, but Frisk suspected she was just being blustery rather than legitimate about her words. Tinted. Darker glasses. Talked about an eyes group.=Ceecee eyes bad.“Grownups gotta talk, too.” Freddy said. He would’ve continued, but one of the aides moved over, almost as if summoned, and everyone’s attention quickly shifted to them. They were a friendly-looking short-haired blonde with a crooked smile and long lashes. Frisk took note of the pink in the persons outfit and nodded slightly in respect. Perfect shades.The aide smiled at the squad. “Hi, Ceecee, hi, Freddy! How are you two?”“Goooood.” Ceecee said. The aide turned towards Frisk. “Hey, there! You’re Frisk, right? I’m Andy. You’re gonna sit here, honey?”Frisk nodded.The aide nodded. “So you’ve met Freddy and Ceecee?”They nodded again. They had the feeling they would be doing a lot of nodding.Yes, yes, yes. No, no, no.“That’s great!” The aide nodded. They looked closer at Frisk, eyeing Frisk’s button for a moment. But they didn’t comment. “So, you two, did you know….Frisk is extra special, because the words he uses for himself change sometimes,” they pointed at Frisk’s button.The two children looked at each other, then back at the caretaker, their brows curved.Twisted brows inwards. Meant: Confusion.Ceecee said, “S’that why he got the button? Cause there’s two words on their?”“Exactly! Frisk, is it okay if I touch your pin?” The aide looked at Frisk. Frisk looked up at them and smiled a little, nodding.“So, yes! Okay!” They gently flicked the pin to point in the other side, to the other word. “You see, this says “she.” Some days Frisk will go by she instead of he.” Hmm. Frisk’s expression didn’t move, but they did feel something twitch in their gut. They heard these words all tjhe time from their mothers, but it was now being brought into a bigger world. They didn’t envision this situation ever happening, and now that it was, they couldn’t understand why something felt wrong.“So, like me!” Ceecee said.“Yes, and like me!” The aide smiled, tapping their-no, HER- employee card clip. Now that Frisk was looking, they could see the same organization of letters that made up the other half of their pin sitting on a sticker on her card. “But right now, Frisk is still using he. So be sure to ask what kind of day it is for Frisk, okay?”"Huh? How’re we supposed to know that? I don’t READ,” Ceecee said again. “And Frisk don’t talk! SO asking does NOTHING!” She put her hands on her hips, looking pleased with this announcement. “Well…” Andy looked at Frisk. “Frisk, you could tell your friends in sign. If it’s a he day, use the fingerspelling for H. It looks like this,” the aide held up her hand in an odd shape. Frisk copied her.Hand… Letter.H = this shape.Frisk blinked and did the movement again.“Great!”They did it again, and again. They’d never used their hands like this. It felt as fun as flapping did, but also contained a PURPOSE… A way to communicate behind yes or no.More. More letters? Need more.“Wow, great job!” She showed another symbol. “This is the one for S, which is what you’ll use for she days, okay?“  Frisk nodded, copying her precisely. They couldn’t get these movements out of their head.The images stuck there and burned. H and S, carried in Frisk’s hands…Except…wait! She and he had more letters, probably. More than one each, Frisk knew that."Okay, n-” the aide started.Frisk waved and made an urgent noise from the back of their throat.She blinked. "Hm? Is something wrong, sweetie?”Frisk held up S and H, one in each hand. They frowned intently. Um, um…Letters, two and three. H = 1 of 2. S= 1 of 3.They held up S and two fingers.“You want to see It again? Okay, but I think you can make an S just fine!”Frisk shook their head. Their mind spun.The shakes that made up SHE. They had an S. The next letter was also an H, right? The same as in he. Frisk tried to hold up their good hand, making the S, then the H, then waving their hands in confusion.The aide looked even more confused..“SH isn’t a word!” Ceecee blurted. “You’re missing other letters!”Frisk pointed at her and nodded, hoping desperately that the aide would understand. The aide blinked. “Oh, would you like to learn the rest of the letters in the and he? Don’t worry, you’ll get to learn those eventually!”Not now?Frisk deflated, staring at their hands and flexing the signs.Andy turned away, focus quickly shifting to the other two children.“Okay, Ceecee, Freddy.” She looked at the other two. “Since Frisk is new here, you guys gotta be super helpful. Frisk doesn’t talk, so I’m hoping you two could try and help the best you can. If you think you gotta yell so one of us hears, then be sure to do so.”Just them? Job? Nothing else? Frisk…Helpless, or….This is routine?“Okaaaay, but you can just teach the hands talk today, can’t you?” Ceecee shrugged. “Then we don’t gotta do this.“Hopefully! That depends on if everyone knows the alphabet!”Frisk was tested for that a few months ago. All sorts of strange tests, including an alphabet test. Frisk knew the alphabet. The letter A correlated to an “ah” sound when someone spoke. Letters were all symbols in place of a noise. The symbols themselves were easy enough, they were just pictures. The tester had said, “We’ll put Frisk in the B class for now. All the children there know their basic alphabet, but they may not be able to read as easily. Even still…Frisk is a little young to start kindergarten, are you sure she’ll-” It was a she day-”-Be okay?”And Mama had said, “Of course! We know exactly what’s best for our child! She needs higher education!”Of course, it was all because there was nothing else to learn at home.To learn OR to be taught? Maman was a teacher. She taught French to people of all ages. But her teaching abilities weren’t enough to save her from frustration. Things had grown gradually more and more tense the more the failures piled up. So many frowns, so many flashcards.So Frisk was ready for public school. Because Maman wasn’t ready to teach.Everyone was tested. Results = what classroom they went into. Learning something good. Useful. Future…This was it.Frisk unclenched their fist and stared at their hand.This is useful. “Helpful.” “Good.”This has to be what they came to school to learn. If these are just letters, then what about words? Could Frisk finally tell Mama she has bad lipstick? Could they say they wanted to wear purple instead of yellow? Or maybe that they didn’t really like the arrow pin…?S, H, and….? -- source link

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