by Tara Kelly
“It’s not a feeling. I am singled out. My mom told all my teachers when I was diagnosed. They started speaking to me really slow, like I was retarded. Then this jerk-off in my history class found out somehow, and he kept asking me if I was an excellent driver. Then he told me they’d made a movie about someone like me. Rain Man. So I watched it.”
She took a sip of her coffee without taking her eyes off me. “What did you think?”
“I thought it had nothing to do with me. I don’t repeat things over and over. I don’t count toothpicks. I know how to subtract fifty from a hundred.”
“There are many different types of people on the autistic spectrum. Some end up being very successful out in the world—just like anyone else.”
“Yeah, I know—so why do I need a label?”
“Have you ever Googled Asperger’s? There’s—”
“Yeah, it listed a bunch of random symptoms. Bad social skills, lack of eye contact, can’t understand tone of voice, being overly interested in something—which makes no sense to me. Isn’t wanting to learn a good thing? I think everyone should be passionate about something.”
Jackie shut her eyes slightly and nodded. “What I was getting at was there are online communities for people with AS. A lot of people who probably feel like you do. If you want, you can just browse the boards. See what others are saying.”
“I belong to a lot of music communities. I do just fine on those. We basically stay home all night and talk about our gear.”
“And that’s fine. But I still recommend you check out some online communities for Asperger’s.”
“I’ll think about it.” But I had already thought about it, looking for others online. I was afraid they’d be so weird I’d feel as lost as I did at school—which meant I didn’t fit in anywhere. “How often do I have to come here?”
“Once a week for now, more if you’d like. But it doesn’t sound like you need it.”
“How about less?”
“We’ll consider it. Any other questions for me?”
“Why was Justin Rocca here?”
She smiled and leaned back in her chair. “Surely a guidance counselor veteran like yourself knows I can’t tell you that. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Not really. He’s my partner in film class. But maybe he told you that.”
Jackie shrugged. “So what if he did? Does it matter?”
“No, I was just curious.”
Her dark eyes combed my face for a second. They made me squirm. “Then why don’t you ask him?”
“I’m not comfortable doing that.”
“Why?”
“We don’t really talk that much.” I wove my fingers together and pressed down on my knuckles.
“Is that because you don’t want to talk to him?”
“I don’t know what to say to him.” I looked away—I’d already said too much. “He makes me feel stupid.”
She cocked her head at me, giving me that concerned doctor look. “How?”
“Sometimes it feels like he can see inside my head. Like he knows that…” I can’t stop thinking about him, or that I watch him in class sometimes.
“Are you going to finish your thought?”
“No, forget it. I don’t know what I’m saying.”
Jackie lifted her blue mug again. “I think you do. You know, people aren’t as closed off as they seem. Sometimes all it takes is a smile or a hello to break the ice. He probably finds you just as intimidating.”
“Did he say that?”
“I have a dare for you, Drea. Say hello to someone today—it can be anyone. See if you get a response.”
“That’s dumb.”
“Why? It’s hello—simple, straightforward. No strings attached.”
“I already said hi to Justin on his way out.”
“How’d that work out for you?”
“He was surprised.”
Jackie tapped her nails against her cup. The sound made me cringe. “Hey, it’s a start.”
I fought the urge to hide behind my book when Justin walked into English. I stared at his white tennis shoes as he approached his desk, straining to open my mouth. But hi came out more as a grunt.
He slid into his seat and turned to look at me. “You say something?”
“I said hi.”
He smiled. I noticed a faint freckle on his upper lip. “Poe sucks.” He motioned to my T-shirt.
“You suck.” Poe was one of my favorite female artists. And she actually produced her own music—couldn’t say that about most pop stars.
He poked my arm. “I was only kidding. My sister said she’s amazing live. She saw her back in 2001.”
“What’s your favorite album?”
“Haunted is pretty awesome—can’t say I’ve heard anything like it.”
Kari looked at me over her shoulder. Her eyes moved to Justin. “Hey.” She tapped her polished nails against his desk.
He turned to face her. “What’s up?”
“You never called me back.”
“I know, sorry. I—”
She moved closer and lowered her voice. “Can we talk at lunch?”
Mr. Duncan began his lecture before Justin could answer her. Kari rolled her eyes and spun around. I’d never been so glad to hear a teacher speak.
I stood in the parking lot like an idiot after school. Roger’s egg car wasn’t in its usual space. Just perfect.
Naomi wasn’t by the fountain at lunch, and she never showed up to PE. My wrist still ached from volleyball. Choosing to slam one’s flesh into a hard ball seemed wrong. How anyone enjoyed that was beyond me.
“Hey, Drea,” a sharp voice said behind me.
My heart pounded as Kari approached me. “Hi,” I mumbled.
“Have you seen Justin?”
“He was talking to the film teacher when I left class. Probably still there.” I eyed the ground, hoping she’d go find him and leave me alone.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her studying me. Her arms were folded tightly across her stomach, toe tapping on the pavement.
“So”—she shifted her weight—“are you guys, like, seeing each other?”
That particular phrase always threw me. Whenever Mom said she was seeing someone, I always thought—well, duh.
“Not like that.”
She wrinkled her nose at me. “What do you mean like that?”
“I mean, he’s not my boyfriend.”
“That’s not what I was asking.”
“I don’t understand.”
Kari rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “I’m not in the mood for games. Did you guys hook up or not?”
I backed up a couple steps. “He’s just my partner in film.”
A white sedan pulled up, and the driver tapped the horn twice. I could make out Casey’s long blond hair and broad shoulders.
Kari held a finger up, asking Casey to hang on. “If you see him on his way out, tell him to call me.” She shook her head and got into the car, slamming the door. Casey revved the engine and sped out of the parking lot.
Slow footsteps emerged behind me, and I got the prickly feeling of someone staring at my back. I looked over my shoulder and met Justin’s stare. What a convenient time to show up.
“Hey,” he said, peering in the direction Casey’s car went. “Sorry about that.”
“About what?”
“That she was interrogating you about me.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked a rock.
“Are you hiding from her?”
He sighed, rolling his eyes up to the dull sky. “Kinda—yeah.”
“Bad date?”
A smile tugged at his lips. “That’s the problem. It wasn’t a date.”
“Why? Did you want it to be a date?”
He crinkled his brow at me and shook his head. “You’re an odd duck, Drea.” Before I could ask what the hell that meant, he continued. “I signed up for a camera the weekend after next. Mr. Diaz said everyone waits until the last
minute, so I figured we’d beat the rush. Any ideas?”
“Not really. The only movies I’ve made are of sea lions, clouds, and my mom’s retarded ex with my crappy HI-8.”
“Hey, it’s better than nothing.” He scanned the parking lot. “You need a ride home?”
“It appears that way. But I can call someone.”
“Someone, huh? You’ve got a lot of friends in a town you just moved to.”
I looked away, my stomach tensing at the thought of being alone with him.
“Okay, suit yourself,” he said. “Later.”
Then again, getting a ride home from Justin seemed a lot more exciting than waiting for Mom or even worse—Grandma. “Wait,” I called after him. “You can give me a ride home.”
He turned around and walked backward with a grin. “Oh, can I? Thanks, I feel privileged.”
I followed him to his car, scanning the shiny black paint. M3 gleamed back at me in silver. It looked like a 2006—333 horsepower. Not bad.
He held the passenger door open for me. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite on the first ride home.”
I hesitated. “Huh?”
Justin rolled his eyes and waved me in. “Never mind.”
I slid into the black leather seat, breathing in the faded stench of cigarettes. Probably from Kari. I didn’t like picturing her in this seat.
He got into the driver’s side and started the engine. A song with grinding guitars and piercing synthesizers roared through my ears, but he quickly turned it down and mumbled an apology.
“They’ve got a V-8 M3 now,” I said.
He backed out of the parking space. “You don’t strike me as a car fan.”
“I used to read Car and Driver and Motor Trend a lot. Now I’m more into sound design.”
“You’ve got some interesting hobbies. So—where do you live?” He pulled onto the main street.
“Make a left at the light.”
“Can you give me a general area?”
“It’s near the bay. That street you make a left on—”
“Holly?”
“Yeah. Keep going straight and then Holly turns into something else after you pass this really big church. I live three streets down from that.”
He glanced over at me with wide eyes. “Oookay. Let me get this straight. I hang a left on Holly, and Holly turns into something else, hopefully another street. And you live on the third cross street after the church.”
“Yeah, it’s either the third or fourth.”
He shook his head, smirking. “Please tell me you know the name of your street.”
I looked out the window, my cheeks growing hot. I never paid attention to names—only landmarks and how many left or right turns it took to get there.
He touched my shoulder before shifting again. “Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out.”
A few moments passed before he tapped a button on his wheel, turning the music back up. The beat was danceable, and I liked the mix. Most modern songs overdid the compression to the point of killing any dynamic that once existed—they were just loud. Period.
“Who is this?”
He squinted at me as we pulled up to a red light. “Why—you hate it?”
“No, I kind of like it, actually.”
“It’s a band called Black Lab. They don’t normally do electronica. It was kind of an experiment, but I like bands that take risks.”
“Me too.”
“Do you consider yourself a music snob?”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes.”
He raised his eyebrows at me. “Same here. And you lost points for not knowing Black Lab.”
“Don’t play the music game with me. I’ll win.” At least I did every time someone challenged me online.
“Oh.” He shook his head. “This is gonna be good. Try me. Throw some names out.”
“Porcupine Tree.”
“I’m torn between ‘Deadwing’ and ‘The Sound of Muzak’ for my favorite song, but I think In Absentia is a better album.”
“It was a little mellow for me. I preferred Deadwing—it was more visceral and dark.”
“Of course.” He rolled his eyes. “Okay, here’s one for you. Puracane.”
“My favorite song is ‘Shouldn’t Be Here.’”
“Because it’s dark and visceral?”
“No, I can relate to it for some reason.”
“Why? You wake up on a lot of random couches?”
“No, I just get it.”
He tapped his finger against the steering wheel and gave me a sidelong glance. “Yeah, I know what you mean. Some melodies just talk to me. The lyrics don’t matter.”
We drove in silence for a minute. Brick buildings, kayak places, and bike riders whizzed by.
“So if you love cars so much, how come you don’t drive?” he asked.
I focused on two older women in the car next to us. One had purple hair. “I don’t have a license.”
“Why not?”
“I kind of flunked the test.” I didn’t want to tell him there had actually been six of them.
“Kind of? We’ll have to fix that.”
“Are you going to take it for me?”
He chuckled. “No, but I’ll give you free driving lessons.”
“Um, I drive pretty bad. You really don’t want to do that.”
He pointed to my right. “There’s the church.”
“It’s the street right after the white-and-black house.”
“Drea, there are several that color.”
“The one with all the yellow flowers in the yard.”
He nodded and sped up. Maybe he just wanted to get rid of me.
“You live on Daisy Street for future reference,” he said after we turned the corner.
“Thanks. It’s that ugly, yellowy-green house on the right.”
“I like your neighborhood. It’s got character.”
“It’s just old.”
He sighed, shaking his head. We pulled up next to the curb, and I was relieved to see Mom’s Toyota missing from the driveway. She’d ask a million embarrassing questions if she saw Justin drop me off.
“So, um…”
“We need to figure out what we’re doing for our film project,” he said.
I avoided his gaze. “You could come in, I guess.” After all, I did tell Mom we were working on a project together.
“I didn’t mean now.”
“Oh, okay. Well, bye, then.” I pushed the door open and climbed out, sliding my backpack over my shoulder.
“Hey, I didn’t say no.” He ejected the Black Lab CD out of his player and waved it at me. “Want a copy?”
I attempted to smile even though my knees were shaking. “Yeah.”
He shut off the car and hopped out, gazing at the trees lining the street.
I unlocked the door and prayed Grandma wasn’t home. “Hello? Grandma?”
No answer. My muscles relaxed.
Justin followed me to the basement and made an approving sound when he spotted my guitars and Mac Pro. “Nice.” He nodded at the computer. “Is that an eight-core?”
“No, it’s an older dual-core. Got it off eBay.” The setup had cost me years of birthday and holiday checks.
“Cool.”
“I’ve got Final Cut, so we can edit the video here—i-if you want to.”
He grinned and walked over to my work desk, scanning the effect pedals, wires, and boards in various piles.
“I’m, um, building some pedals. Hopefully, I can sell them later.”
“I can see that.” He seemed to have a permanent half smile when he was around me.
“Is that funny to you?”
“Not at all. If I played guitar, I’d ask you to build me one.”
I walked over to my computer and jiggled my mouse to wake it up. The silver tower revved like a car engine—I loved that sound. Justin came up behind me, close enough to smell the gel in his hair. Just feeling his warmth made my knees weak again.
“Here,” he said, slipping the CD case into my hand.
“Thanks.” I stuck the CD into the drive, trying to block out the burning sensation on my skin. Mom told me I had a much bigger space bubble than most. Certain people really set it off, like Roger or some of my mom’s boyfriends. The feeling wasn’t much different than a spider crawling through my hair. But Justin was different. Just as intense, but warmer somehow. More pleasant.
“I thought we could do a music video for our project,” he said.
“Yeah, we could work on a soundtrack and…” I didn’t know if I wanted to work that closely with him. It would be easier to just stick a random song over the top, but there was no way I’d settle for that.
“But that would require working on music with me,” he said. “Sure you can handle my greatness?”
I glared at him. “Let me be the judge of how great you are.”
“Fair enough. Guess I’ll have to use your crappy midi to prove my point.”
“It gets the job done.”
He sat in front of my midi keyboard, shaking his head. “You just don’t get it.”
My phone bellowed out of my backpack, making me jump.
“Does your cell always scare you?”
I ignored him as I dug the contraption out of my bag. He really didn’t need to know that my mom was the only person who ever called me.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Am I interrupting anything juicy?” Naomi’s voice exploded into my ear.
I held the phone a few inches away. “I don’t understand the question.”
She sighed. “Uh, I’m standing right next to Justin’s car. Did you guys decide to form a band without me?”
“No, we’re discussing our film project.”
Justin shook his head, grinning. Naomi’s voice was loud enough for him to hear every word.
“Discussing it, are you? So proper.”
“Why are we talking on a phone?” I asked, heading up the stairs. “I’m opening the front door.” I snapped the phone shut.
Naomi stood on the porch wearing big sunglasses and a cheesy grin. Her purple hair jutted out in various directions.
“Did you get electrocuted?” I asked.
“No. I’ve been at Scott’s for the last couple hours.” She threw her arms around me, making my entire body stiffen. Her fingers dug into my back, and she rubbed her cheek against my velvet top. “You’re soft, like a kitty.”
