Deebee

Chapter 10

We're not going home. I don't recognize any of the intersections. Deebee is in the back of the car with me. Mom and Dad won't tell me where we're going.

We've been in the car for almost an hour. We must be going somewhere important.

Finally, the car parks in front of a large, white building. We all get out of the car and walk across the parking lot. The building has automatic doors. On the wall, a sign reads service animals only. I don't know what that means, but Deebee is going to come in no matter what

We wait in the waiting room. That's when I realize where we are! We're in a doctor's office! I hate the doctor's office! They make me take off my clothes and touch me everywhere and even touch in my underwear! I hate it, HATE IT, HATE IT!!! My knees begin to tremble.

A door opens in the waiting room and some lady with light brown skin and shiny black hair requests, "Can Matthew Reusha come with me, please?"

Mom and Dad come with me. I keep my arm around Deebee the whole time.

"Please come with me." The lady directs us into a room with a gray, pink, and yellow carpet. There are chairs near the wall, and two chairs directly in front of each other. The lady makes me sit in one. Deebee drops down beside me.

After the lady takes her seat, she starts, "My name is Gracie. What is your name?"

"Maffew Reusha," I say in monotone.

"Gracie laughs pleasantly. "Don't worry, Matthew. I'm just going to ask you some questions. I am not a doctor; I am a psychiatrist."

I stare down at my shoes.

"What is your favorite food?" asks Gracie.

"A peanut buttah and banana sandwich."

"Mmmm, that sounds tasty. Do you wish you could eat it all the time?"

"Yes."

"Hmmmm." Gracie writes some things down. She asks about where I live, what I like to do, and what's my favorite animal.

After that, she asks my parents a bunch of questions. How do I react when someone touches me? How do I react to new foods, people, or places? How do I react to loud noises?

Finally, Gracie declares, "Mr. and Mrs. Reusha, I believe I can now diagnose your sin with autism."

"WHAH?!!" I yell. Deebee licks my hand.

"What's autism?" queries Mom.

"Naffaniah has autism," I indicate.

"Lots of people have autism," Gracie explains. "It makes your brain work differently. People with autism just act a little different from other people."

"Is that why he refuses to answer us and treats everyone, including us, disrespectfully?" Dad questions angrily.

"Well, in some cases," Gracie responds, "People with autism are nonverbal."

"I wurned," I input. "I wurned how to talk."

"Yes, you did," smiles Gracie.

My parents sit there, gaping. I stroke Deebee's ears and kiss the top of his head. He smells doggy. I love that smell.

Gracie hands me a thick book entitled Autism Spectrum Disorder. The cover shows a crowd of people smiling. They are all grownups.

I open the book and sniff the pages. It's a normal habit I do to test whether I want to read the book or not. The book has a strong salty smell, but in a good way.

I can't wait to start reading it.