Chapter Text
JJ is seven years old when he first comes to the realization that it's weird that he can't read.
Back then, in the second grade, he didn't really understand the significance of being stupid. It was just one of the names his dad called him, so of course, it had to be true, because his dad was right about most things.
Maybe he noticed a few times how the other kids always finished worksheets before him, but JJ just assumed it was because he was stupid.
JJ wasn't helpless, he knew being stupid meant he was slower than the other kids in his class. It meant his classmates understood things he didn't.
But he hadn't realized that his ability to read (or lack thereof) fell into that category.
Even now, when he's sixteen, JJ can vividly remember his younger self wondering, When are they gonna teach us how to hold the letters still? How do I read them if they're running away?
Because, when he was little, he thought everyone saw letters the way he did; jumbled and floaty.
It's only when the teacher has them read aloud for the first time that JJ truly realizes how behind he is. He remembers sitting criss-cross-applesauce on the carpet, staring at a girl as she stumbles through a sentence. The bafflement of How is she doing that?, is still unmatched by any other experience he's had.
After the girl finished her sentence, the boy next to her began his. Just like the girl did, he looked at the page, and he understood how to interpret the scribbles. JJ was shell-shocked.
When it was his turn to read, he tried his best to copy what his classmates did. He stared at the page and watched the words swirl, begging his eyes to find words like "cat", and "hat", like the other kids did.
Unlike the other kids, JJ was stupid, and he couldn't make sense of the scribbles. So, being a clever kid, JJ made up his own sentence about cats and hats, hoping the teacher would believe he was reading.
She didn't.
She had told him stiffly, "I want you to read what's written on the page, JJ."
To which he had responded, "You didn't show me how."
This had made her very upset, because apparently he's been learning how to read since kindergarten, and apparently he should be more than capable. She also announced that she didn't like being lied to, and it would be great if he could try and not cause problems.
JJ, with a temper as short as him, had shot back, "Well, how the fuck do I read the letters when they keeping running away?"
That sentence did the trick and landed him directly in the principal's office. From there, they called his dad (even after JJ cried and begged them not to), who had to leave work early to take JJ home.
The last memory JJ can recall from that revolutionary day was how that night, his dad beat him so hard, JJ couldn't breathe without pain for a week.
Upon that experience, JJ swore to himself, he would never mention his floating letters to a teacher ever again.
Despite what teachers say about learning harder things the older you get, third grade ended up being so much easier than second grade.
For starters, JJ met John B, and they easily became best friends within a week.
Not only was John B his favorite person to play with at recess and after school, but he actually helped JJ a lot academically. Either he was too young to notice, or he just didn't care, but John B didn't seem to mind JJ's stupidity. He actually helped.
They created a little system for themselves. JJ figured out a while ago that when doing school work, if the problem was read to him, he could figure it out just fine. It's when no one reads it aloud that JJ has an issue.
Somehow, John B understood this without JJ have to explain it.
So, they developed a system. Anytime they were assigned a worksheet, John B would read it aloud for the both of them, and they would solve it. John B didn't mind it at all, especially since JJ turned out to be surprisingly good with numbers and solving math problems. So, John B read, and JJ helped with math.
It was an arrangement that followed them all the way to high school, until the end of freshman year when they both had to drop out and get jobs to support themselves.
Then there was no need for their system anymore.
JJ isn't upset that he never learned to read or write. It doesn't matter to him personally, but he knows what people would think of him if he told anyone.
It's really not that bad. Sure, it'd be great if he didn't have to pretend to have the ability of reading and writing, but JJ has long since adapted to it.
Everyone thinks that reading is such a crucial skill to survive, but JJ adopted a few hacks along the way, and reading is apparently not as vital as people like to think.
Like, he calls his friends instead of texts. He looks at the pictures on packaged food instead of the words, so he knows what to buy. He remembers everything, so he doesn't have a need to write things down. He's developed an impressive sense of direction, and has no need for maps or street signs. And, none of the jobs he's ever worked required him to read anything.
Best of all, JJ practicality lives with John B, they're together so often. If he's in a situation where something absolutely needs to be read, 9.9 times out of 10, John B is there to do it for him.
However, aside from the reading aspect of his whole ordeal, writing proves to be a bigger issue, and not something JJ can get around easily.
Maybe JJ is stupid, but that doesn't mean he isn't clever. In the early years of his education, when he was learning how to write, his writing wasn't an issue. Most, if not all, of the letters he copied on the hugely spaced lined paper were either backwards, upside down, or distorted in some way.
It didn't matter back then because he was young enough that most kids were writing their letters backwards anyway. Teachers and parents called it cute.
But then he went up a grade level and was suddenly expected to write all his letters the "right way". JJ could never grasp what exactly the "right way" was.
As they progressed through the year, the teacher got more frustrated with his inability to "follow directions". Around half way through the year, his teacher gave up on bothering him about neatness; she let him write the way he wanted to write. She stopped caring how he wrote, as long as JJ could tell her what his writing was supposed to say.
JJ, the clever bastard he was, made a ground-breaking discovery: he just had to pretend he could write. If he scribbled on the paper, he could pass it off as cursive or really messy handwriting. And when people asked him what his writing was supposed to say, JJ just told them what he wanted it to say.
It was amazing. Not only did he cheat the system, but he got away with it. Fake it 'til you make it, right?
His god-awful handwriting actually became a running joke between JJ and John B, which John B had absolutely no problem calling him out on.
JJ can remember one specific argument they had during eighth grade, when they were lab partners.
"JJ, that literally isn't even a letter," John B had told him while he looked over JJ's notes.
"It's cursive, dipshit. Get cultured," JJ had shot back.
John B had rolled his eyes, "Dude, I don't think you know what cursive is."
"Whatever, I can read it just fine. I'll tell you what it says," JJ settled before rambling about the contents of his notes.
Aside from banter, John B never brought up JJ's horrible handwriting. They didn't talk about his reluctance to read either, at least not in a serious manner.
JJ's thought about telling John B. He doesn't know why the thought of explaining it is so terrifying, because he's pretty sure John B already knows. JJ's aware of how pathetic and stupid the situation is, and he knows he should just talk to his friend about it.
It's so ridiculous. JJ knows John B is nothing like his dad. He knows John B would never call him the names his dad does.
But, he still can't erase the tiny voice in the back of his head that worries John B will forever think of him differently if he admits to being illiterate.
John B's the only person JJ's ever met who doesn't loathe his presence. The only person who thinks he's worth knowing.
JJ isn't in any rush to change his mind.