Braille, Disney, and Odd Zit Formations by flYegurl

Jeb was teaching Iggy how to read Braille. I didn't think there was any need at all, you know, because none of us really knew how to read real words. But Jeb apparently thought it was important for Iggy, and I'm pretty sure Iggy is having fun.

Actually, I don't think he's having much fun. I mean, Jeb's forcing him to stay indoors for days upon end, and Iggy's not allowed to run around or make bombs. Jeb's not even letting him cook until he's "learned all he needs to about everything there is to know about reading Braille." I don't understand it, I simply don't.

But, what the hey. I mean, I wasn't the one stuck inside on a day like this, being taught how to read by my pseudo-dad. I could just lie around all day watching television, or I could take a flight, or I could, you know, do other stuff that's not learning how to read Braille.

"AUGH! Why do I have to learn this?" I heard Iggy moan from the living room.

"Because, you're blind, but you should know how to read. Then you can know which one's the 'men's' bathroom when you go places by yourself."

Iggy groaned and shifted in his chair, and I chuckled. It was funny, it really was.

I walked into the TV room and switched to Disney. Sometimes it wasn't all that bad. You know, I don't actually like stuff like Hannah Montana or anything, but sometimes those writers actually had a pretty good sense of humor. Plus, I think I was probably being strangely hormone-y today, which most likely had something to do with it.

As I watched, I listened sub-consciously to Iggy's pain.

"But this is so boring!" he complained.

"Shut it, you're already through the alphabet! Just try to string the letters together and read words!"

"But I don't wanna!"

I chuckled. Iggy was sounding a lot like a pampered five-year-old.

More silence. Lilly and Oliver had just gotten together. I wondered if this was some sort of channel Nudge or Max would watch while PMSing. Probably, what with all the drama and teenage romance and stuff.

Then a thump.

"IGGY! Don't throw the Braille book! I bought that new just a few days ago!"

"Whatever," Iggy grunted sulkily. "I don't care."

"Go pick that up this instant, young man!" Jeb ordered in his father-voice. I heard Iggy stand and stumble across the room, muttering furiously under his breath.

"I don't know why Jeb has to make me learn how to read Braille. It's not even like Max or Fang can read regular words that well! And what's so great about figuring out what something says by fingering a bunch of little bumps? Holy crap, that sounds wrong…"

I had to struggle to hold in my laughter, trying to concentrate on the new episode of Sonny With a Chance that had just come on while my blind brother returned to the table with Jeb and spoke up.

"I've finished memorizing all the freaking dots on the freaking page. I can read Hop on Pop. In Braille. What more do you want of me?"

Jeb sighed, and I heard him lean back. "Fine, I give up. Go. You're officially free."

"Wahoo!" Iggy whooped, and suddenly he had raced into the room with me. He ran forward and flopped effortlessly back onto the sofa, and then relaxed, listening to the show.

"Ugh, Fang!" he growled, putting his hands over his eyes. "You must be PMSing or something to watch this kind of crap."

"Hey!" I protested weakly, cursing at myself for forgetting to change the channel before Iggy had been attentive enough to listen to which show was on. "It's not actually that bad. You can learn a lot of stuff from…"

"The national chic hormone channel? No thank you. Switch it."

I sighed and lifted the remote, making to change it to Animal Planet. It didn't work.

I clicked the button a couple more times. Still nothing.

Then I remembered that the batteries weren't in it, and we had had to change the channels by hand for a few days now.

"Unh, I don't wanna get up," I said, leaning back into the sofa. Iggy rolled his eyes.

"Seriously? Or are you just to embarrassed to admit you like this stuff?" He smirked weakly, and then frowned. "But you know, I'm going to scratch out my ears if I have to listen to another ten minutes of high-pitched teenage girls having hissy fits over male TV stars. I bet none of them are even half as hot as me."

"That's right Iggy, you're way hotter than all the other girls," I agreed, then laughed when he hit me with a pillow.

"Man, I have got to find some sort of good insult for you. Let me feel your face."

"What?"

"Aw, come on, I haven't felt it in like a year. You've probably changed a bit by now. Let me feel how you look like."

I sighed and relinquished, knowing if I didn't he'd just keep begging, and eventually Max would just force me to.

Iggy cautiously reached out his long hands and fingered my cheeks gently. He ran his hand over my chin, then my nose, then my lips, my eyes, and my forehead. Then he raised an eyebrow and ran his fingers over my forehead again.

"What?" I asked impatiently, but he didn't answer, just ran his fingers over my forehead a few more times, each time his smile growing. Then he doubled over laughing. "Geez, come on, what is it?" I asked again, aghast.

"You won't believe it!" Iggy cried, still choking on laughter, tears leaking out of his eyes.

"Just tell me!"

"Okay, okay," Iggy agreed, straightening, wiping his eyes and composing himself. Then, with a face that was threatening to crack in half with the size of his grin, said "Dude, the zits on your forehead say 'virgin' in Braille."

Um… That was interesting. I'm pretty sure it was either crack, sugar, or hormone-induced. You never can tell. Except I haven't snuffed crack at all in my past… but I did eat chocolate cake and a bunch of ice-cream… but I am a teenage girl… so you know what, it could be both. Hope you enjoyed.

And please REVIEW.