Oakley Curtis

Chapter 1

Oakley's POV

I stared at the iPad in my hand. This iPad was my way to actually communicate with my family. My whole body was on edge. I jumped up and started spinning in a circle. I do that when I get really excited, "Oakley, Oakley," my dad whispered to me, "let's keep a calm body. I know you're really excited."

I took a few deep breathes and was able to get my body under control. Bethany, my therapist, looked at my parents, "ready to hear her first word?" She turned on my iPad, "Oakley has learned this very quickly. It shows how much she wants to communicate with you." She handed it back to me, "go ahead."

My mom knelt in front of me and touched my hand to get my attention, "hi Oakley."

Hi Mom, I typed into my iPad, Hi Dad. My mom pulled me into her, crying. I typed into my iPad and pressed send again, mom, are you sad?

"No baby," she held me tight. "I am so unbelievably happy!"

Mrs. Curtis's POV

I was over the moon!  My only daughter and I could finally have a conversation with her! I have waited 11 years for this. Oakley has autism. She is almost completely non-verbal. She cannot speak. She communicates through gestures and small sounds. She will show that she angry by stomping her feet or throwing things.

When Oakley was younger, we used PECS, which stands for Picture Exchange Communication System.  She would show us a picture of food if she was hungry or a cup if she was thirsty.  She was able to let us know what she wanted or needed.  It started simple, but became more complex as she got older.

I knew right away that Oakley wasn't like other children.  She cried a lot.  She hated being clothed and preferred a diaper and her fleece blanket. She spit up all time and was considered failure to thrive at one time. Darrel and I were so worried, but it never slowed her activity down. She was an early walker and climbed on everything.  When she was 12 months old, she tried to climb the ladder of the tree house.

Things got scary when she was 16 months old. She starting banging her head on the floor when she was mad. It was like she was so mad, she didn't feel any pain.  It was also around that time that we started to realize she wasn't babbling like other children.  She was a very serious baby.  Sometimes, she would laugh and when she did, her laugh was so contagious. 

She also didn't seem to know that I was her mother and that Darrel was her father.  She knew that we loved her and that we took care of her; she wanted us when she was hurt or scared, but she didn't understand that we were her mom and dad.  She hardly paid attention to her brothers.  It was like she was trapped in her own little world.

When she was 2 and a half, she was officially diagnosed with autism.  I fought for two years to get her the help she needed.  We had teachers, therapists, and social workers in and out of our house.

I was constantly worried about my sons, not getting enough attention.  Our oldest son, Darry, was 9 when Oakley was born.  Our middle son, Sodapop, was 6, and our youngest was only 3.

Oakley's autism didn't really interfere with Darry's schedule.  He was 11, out doing his own thing, playing football.  He never really paid attention to Oakley and she never really paid him much attention. Sodapop was very attentive to Oakley at first, but became distant when she couldn't form a connection with him.

Ponyboy, on the other hand, adored his baby sister. He has always been my sensitive one. He took the time to understand her and slowly, she allowed him into her world. I loved their bond, but I worried that Pony felt he had to take care of her. It was only in the last few years that he started hanging out more with friends. He felt bad about it sometime, but Oakley never seemed bothered by it.

I felt a tug on my sleeve. Oakley had her sweatshirt on. She pressed a pre-programmed button on her iPad, home.

"Yes, baby, we're going home."