Another novel excerpt

I almost smile, save my story, and log onto the history module.  I’m doing the Civil Rights movement.  I wonder when crazy people will get civil rights.  You can’t see how I’m different from you.  My problems are definitely more than skin deep.  My pain goes all the way into my soul.  You just look up and see a geek, or a goth, or a cutter, or something.  You never really see me.  I think maybe I ought to write stories about crazy people, get people to understand us a little better.
I answer a 20 question quiz over the Civil Rights Movement and get an 85%, a solid B.  I’m happy with that
“Knight.”
I nearly jump out of my chair. The zookeeper laughs at me.  He shouldn’t be tormenting the animals.  I suddenly get this vision of a monkey in a glass cage and some spoiled, snotty kid tapping the glass to annoy the hell out of him.
“Just got an I.M. from the main building.  Ms. Mack needs to see you in the office.”
“What’d I do?”  I ask, immediately paranoid.
“Nothing that I know of.”
  I sit there.
“Go,” he says.
“Don’t I need some kind of escort?” I ask.
“Why?  You’re not the Prince of Sheba.”
Reluctantly, I walk out the door and up the covered breezeway toward the main building, also prison like, but merely minimum security.  Alternative school is hard time.  I step up to the back door and swipe my student I.D. over the sensor.  The door beeps, and I’m in.  The locked doors and the motel keys ie the student I.D. are supposed to add extra security to the school.  If I’m going to come in and shoot up a bunch of bass, I don’t think I’m going to have much trouble getting around these security measures.
I go into the office where the secretary greets me. Mr. Knight, go on in; they’re expecting you. ‘They’ are the principal and Ms. Mack.
“Do you know why we’ve called you here?”
“What’s wrong with Dee?”
Ms. Mack looks puzzled.  The principal says, “Your sister?  Is she in some kind of trouble?”

I can see they have no idea what I’m talking about.  This relieves me.
“No ... I just thought... never mind.  Why do you need me?”
“Well, when you went into the hospital,” Ms. Mack begins, “I sent a message to the educational coordinator there – she’s my niece – to keep a close eye on you and to get you to write something for her.”
“Something suitable,” the principal says.
“And apparently you did,” Ms. Mack says. “She submitted it to a children’s book publisher – a small press, so your advance won’t be high – but your royalties may bring in a lot more.”
“No shit,” I say before I can stop myself.
“No shit,” Ms. Mack says.
“I’m sorry.  It slipped.”
The principal looks at me with one of those, I want you to think about something, looks. Her eyes narrow and her brow wrinkles.  I am afraid to say anything else.
“I want you to think about something, Dean,” the principal begins, and I almost laugh because I’m feeling just a little bit giddy, like I do when I’m in manic overdrive.  Only this time my happiness is real, not some kind of brain misfire. “Think about what this means.  Despite all of the odds stacked against you, you are able to overcome.”
I frown a little because I don’t know where this is going.
Ms. Mack says, “You know the stigma people – especially teens – with mental illness have to endure.”
If anyone does, I do, but I still don’t know where this is going.
The principal says, “You are a shining example that those with mental problems are just as valuable to society as anyone else.  You have battled the battle and you have won the victory. Do you know what kind of role model you could be for kids with mental illness?”
I feel myself getting mad.  I don’t want to be some kind of poster child for the insane, but then Ms. Mack says, “Can you imagine how your life would have been different if you had been able to talk to someone just like you, someone who overcame and could tell you that hell yeah, life is worth living.  Did you know that the third leading cause of death for teenagers is suicide?  The rate for teens who are bullied is even higher.  And the rate for teens with mental disorders – well, you can imagine.”
“I’m not sure I can do this kind of thing,” I say, being honest.
“You are incredibly intelligent.  In four weeks of independent work at the hospital, you increased two grade levels in English, Math, and History.  You read on the graduate degree level, and I’m not talking about high school graduate.”