Living to Loving

Chapter 24

"I have autism?" My voice cracks mid-sentence.

"It's the mildest form of an Autism Spectrum Disorder," Dr. Lacaster explains. "Have you ever noticed that you have problems meeting someone's eyes? Does it make you feel uncomfortable?"

I nod.

"That's pard of Pervasive Development Disorder," Dr. Lancaster says. "Your problems writing? Your school's tested you for dyslexia and dysgraphia, but you don't have either. THey can't explain your problems with writing, right?"

I nod again.

"It's not a problem with writing itself or your academic ability," Dr. Lancaster says. "It's a problem with the development of fine motor skills. You hate being in crowds, right? Does it give you anxiety?"

"Yeah," I mutter. I know what she's going to say. It's part of PDD.

"That's part of Pervasive Development Disorder," Dr. Lancaster says. "You hate certain textures. Do they feel uncomfortable? Painful, sometimes?"

I suck in a breath and nod again.

"Part of PDD," Dr. Lancaster says. "It's a sensory processing problem. It's not you being oversensitive. Your bain processes different touches differently than other people."

I look down. All I can think of is autism. Me. I'm autistic. How can I be autistic? At the same time, I'm a little relieved. The problems I couldn't explain before are now linked to a disorder I can understand. But autism? How could I be autistic? I didn't look like autism.

"And I know you're porbably used to the tropes set by Hollywood centered around autism," Dr. Lancaster says, as if reading my mind. "So first of all, you're not the same. The people they have on TV make up very few of autistic people and you're not one of them."

"How do I fix it?" I ask.

"You don't," Dr. Lancaster says, turning to my mother and addressing her. "You find ways to adapt and deal with it. For starters, she'll need a 504 plan for school that you need to discuss with the administration. I'll write up a doctor's note for it." She looks at me and smiles. "And we're going to try music therapy to see if you could benefit from that."

I don't pay attention. I'm just focused on the fact that I'm autistic. Me.

I only have one word.

How?

Daniel

It's been about two weeks since the accident and since Gemma and I split. As I walk down the halls of Britain High School, I walk alone. Tyler and Hayden abandoned me. Gemma won't even look at me. Why is this so hard? Then I remind myself, this is what Gemma does every day. And I feel even worse for her.

I pull up the hood of my forrest green sweatshirt and walk down the halls. I glare at a poster for Solo Fest and rip it down, crumpling it into a ball in my fist. I stare at the ball and almost break down in tears. I've lost everything. Gemma's gone. My popularity's gone. My sister isn't even here for me to annoy and antagonize.

Why is everything crashing around me? Why can't I keep anything together? What's wrong with me? I glance at the clock, that reads one thirty. I can't keep going that long.  Tears blur in my vision as I stare at the paper. Then I run. Away from everything.

And I don't look back. Not for one second.

I run and find myself crouched beside a dumpster near Britain Middle School. I unfold the paper and stare at the names. Joanna Thompson, with a line through her name. Because everyone thinks she's missing. Gemma Caddel, with so many lines through her name, I can't count them. She's dropped out? Was it because of me? I still love her. I can't help but wonder if she dropped out because of me. It's my fault. I have to fix this. But how?