This is it, Noah.

You can do this.

You are strong.

I let out a breath and started walking in what I assumed was the right direction to the reception. I stopped when my cane hit the desk. A voice that was feeble and shuddering which I thought to be of an old woman hit my eardrum.

"How may I help you?" A voice that automatically put a smile on my face.

"Uhmm… I’m new. My name is Noah Carter and I… I don’t know where to go" I stuttered out, completely a mess of nerves.

This was the first time I was interacting with someone who wasn’t my mom, my step-dad or my sister. A completely new world for me, a completely new experience for me.

"Hello, Noah. I'm Linda. Don’t worry, I’m here to assist you. Please wait while I check your name on the list." she spoke, in her ever so gentle and sweet voice. I gave her a nervous smile and a nod.

“Your name is on the list.” She said as I heard some other shuffling noises and tapping on the keyboard.

"Let me help you" Now the voice was coming from my right side before I felt a tender touch on my arm. I licked my lips and took a deep breath.

"Umm thank you"

She led me to my first class and gave me some sheet saying it was the school map, well what use it was to me? I actually acknowledged it. I asked her to record the directions to my other classes on my recorder and thankfully she did. She inquired as to whether she could do whatever else for me however I just shook my head. I heard the compassion in her voice and I could tell she was feeling frustrated about me and I loathed it.

I never preferred compassion in any structure since I was not sorry for my condition. I lost my visual perception yet it wasn't my shortcoming. There was not something to be upset about because I was still a lot of types like some other person.

"This is your sociology class. The teacher will be here soon. Mr Bright is teaching sociology this semester. Do you want me to get you something?" I shook my head and sat on the seat.

All the compassion she was appearing to, was irritating me. I realized she intended no mischief and was simply attempting to be courteous yet I was unable to endure it any longer.

"I really appreciate you but can you not do this?" I toned down my annoyance as much as I could and asked her in my most polite tone.

"Do what?" I could hear the frown in her voice.

"Please, I would appreciate it if you treat me like other students without feeling sorry for me.” I tried to be polite but now my annoyance was showing in my tone and I myself, could hear it very clearly. I’m not very good at controlling my mood swings.

"No problem, son," she said, without being offended and patted my back. All things considered, at that point, I felt somewhat terrible for demonstrating my temper yet I'm lacking in temper it wasn't my shortcoming totally.

"Thank you" I smiled at her, brightly, aware that my dimples would be on display.

It’s not like I had seen my dimples but I had been told that I had these two adorable dimples on both sides of my cheek that make an appearance on my cheeks every time I talk or smile.

"I have to go now. Take care. " She said before I heard her heels making a rhythmic sound against the marbled floor, it faded away soon.

I was quite early. Consider it my mom's concerns or what since she was the person who was more anxious for my first day and woke me up at 5 AM. I could tell the hallways were unfilled when I showed up as I heard no strides or chitter-prattle of understudies. I was basically alone in the study hall too, I could hear an absolute hush in the room.

I laid my head on the desk and closed my eyes. As soon as my eyes were closed the soreness reduced. The longer my eyes stayed open the more they hurt because they were highly sensitive to sunlight or light in general.

Not long but rather 15 minutes after the fact, I heard the strides and uproarious voices of understudies who were prepared to begin one more day of school and sounded particularly invigorated. The voices got stronger and I could tell the room was completely gotten together with understudies and unexpectedly there were quieted voices, trailed by rearranging commotion and quietness.

"Good morning class. Welcome back to school. I'm John Bright and I'll be teaching you sociology this year." A deep voice echoed in the class. He sounded excited about the first day of school.

“We’ve got a new arrival.” Mr Bright said. There were murmurs in the class and I wondered why.

"Would you like to introduce yourself, young man?" he spoke. Everyone quietened down. I was waiting for someone to speak but no one did.

"I’m sorry. I'm talking to you, boy" he sounded closer to me and then I felt a hand on my shoulder. I stood up but he gently pushed me back on my seat.

"It's okay, just introduce yourself, sitting right there."

I gave a gesture, licking my lips and attempting to take full breaths to quiet myself down because talking noisily to an entire class, well I never encountered that. As I said I never addressed anybody yet my family.

"My name is Noah Carter. I’m seventeen. I’m from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire. We moved to London when I was 5. I have been home schooled before. This is my first time to attend any school.” I had to stop myself.

Indeed, the thing is… I don't talk a lot yet once I'm agreeable it's extremely difficult to shush me down. For what reason am I like that? I have no thought.

"We are happy to have you here, Mr Carter. I hope you find this journey enjoyable." Mr Bright spoke, with too much grace in his voice. I radiated at him and gave him an appreciative gesture for causing me to make some noise before the class since it encouraged me to acquire certainty.

Soon, Mr Bright started the first lecture and I noted everything down with the help of the braille typewriter I carried all the way to the school with me. The lecture was interesting. We discussed the definition and the “Big-Three” theories of sociology. It was an alternate encounter to sit in a class with different understudies while an instructor is giving you a talk and including you in the conversation. It was energizing and I making the most of my first class.

When the class was over, I gathered my things and put them back in my bag. I listened to the directions Linda gave me and walked to my next class.

I could hear little mumbles and quieted voices of learners as I strolled past them and I realized this planned to happen because a visually impaired learner in the school where the wide range of various learners considered themselves being better than me since I lost my one sense, was considered abnormal. This was the lone thing I was generally stressed over and how should I not be, at whatever point I went to any family meals where my cousins and relatives would be available, I was dealt with like some peculiar individual who never dealt with like an ordinary person. It is possible that it was compassion or quieted voice, mumbling about my visual deficiency.

Quite soon I was finished with half of the classes and practically delighted in the entirety of my classes and my own camaraderie since I didn't attempt to speak with anybody. Indeed, who am I joking with? No one attempted to converse with me, not simply a straightforward 'hi'.

I quit giving a lot of time to the possibility that perhaps I could never discover a companion to experience this long term school excursion and contemplated all the educators and classes I had taken up until now.

There was this one class that stood out for me, not because it was only exciting but the teacher was so kind and friendly. Mr Brown. A man with a raspy voice and deep voice, an accent so thick that sometimes it was hard to understand, a bit like a Yorkshire accent.

He didn't deal with me like I was not the same as others. He didn't feel for me which was what made him my number one educator up until this point. He wasn't excessively sweet, nor was he inconsiderate. He didn't phoney the generosity and what I closed after his group was that generally, learners loved him since he knew when the time had come to joke and when the time had come to be not kidding.

So, yes, Literature with Mr Brown was my favourite class so far.

With that idea, I entered the cafeteria. I strolled around in the bistro not for a really long time before I found a spot with was less uproarious and I could tell there was no understudy on the seat I sat down. I set my sack alongside me and let out a breath which I didn't realize I was holding since the pack with a typewriter and PC wasn't difficult to haul around. I inclined my stick against the table and removed my lunch box from my pack. As I opened the top, the fragrance of my mum's sandwich filled my nostrils and my appetite amplified.

Exactly when I began chomping on the chicken sandwich, I felt somebody's presence around me. It didn't seem like only one individual, with the snickers and mumbles I could advise it was a gathering. I quit eating and turned my head around to the bearing of the sound.

Be that as it may, before I could find the opportunity to ask, I felt something being poured on my head and afterwards leaking down my head to my shirt, splashing it. Giggling followed as the entire bistro lit up with its sound. I felt so humiliated. I hung my head low as tears began to shape in my eyes yet I vowed myself that I wouldn't allow them to fall.

"Nice little cane, fag.” I heard a voice say. I didn’t lift my face, just held in embarrassment because this was another thing that I was worried about attending the school. Bullying.

“Omg, what a freak he is.” Another voice came and I curled myself in a ball.

“Go back to the hole from where you’ve crept out. You don't belong here." This voice made me turn my head up to the direction it was coming from, a Yorkshire accent but the voice was a little squeaky.

"Look at his eyes. They are red. What are you creep? A demon?" he laughed again and I couldn’t take it. I knew my eyes become a deep shade of red when I cry and that was the reason, I wasn’t looking up at all.

I put my hands on the table and searched for my stuff so that I could leave but then another hand grabbed my wrist and stopped me. I tried to free my hand but the grip tightened.

"Looking for something?" He said and they all burst into laughter again.

"Let me go!" I freed my arm and reached for my bag but it wasn’t there.

I heard not many commotions as things were tumbling down and that is the point at which I comprehended that they tossed all the stuff from my pack on the floor. A tear got away from my eye, breaking the oath I made with myself.

"Look mommy’s boy is crying.” They mocked me, laughing.

One hand pushed me and I lost my balance, taken off guard. I fell on my back and they threw my sandwich and my lunchbox on me before leaving, laughing as if they had accomplished something big.

I cleaned the tears that have double-crossed me and began gathering my things. I didn't anticipate that anybody should help me and nobody even did. I stuffed them back in my pack, got my stick before I rushed off to the restroom, knocking in things to a great extent due to my newness to the spot yet was prevailing with regards to advancing out of the boisterous bistro into the passageway.

I smelled of strawberries because that’s what they’ve poured on me. Strawberry smoothie. I needed to clean this mess up before going home because then mum would make a fuss about it.