When the hell did this happen?
“Well if there’s nothing else I can help you with…” she says motioning toward the door.
“Actually, Ms. Taylor gave me something that I need to read over and get back to her. Do you think it’s alright if I do that here?”
I can tell I’ve shocked her. It’s not a secret that you don’t have to ask to spend time here, but I figure with as weird as she’s acting with me being here at all, the least I can do is ask for permission.
“Of course you can. Everyone is welcome here. “
She walks away from me after I slam her with one of the fakest smiles I’ve ever done and I make my way down into the stacks of books in the corner, hoping against hope there’s a place at the end I can sit privately and read.
What Isabelle wrote is burning a hole in the back pocket of my jeans, so the sooner I pull it out and read it, the sooner the near obsession I have with keeping it close to me can end. I can do what the teacher asked of me, read it and return it to her, putting it out of my mind once and for all.
I soon realize the minute I sit down and unfold it in my hands, reading just the first two lines at the top, that the last thing I’m going to want to do is give this back when I’m done with it. No, this is definitely something I’m going to want to keep with me, just like I want to do with the actual girl herself.
To: The person in the future
From: Isabelle Reagan
There are people that will tell you that high school is the best time of your life. That when you’re older and look back on it, there will be so many good memories and things you want to treasure and hold onto forever.
They lied.
High school is not the best time in your life or it isn’t when you’re like me.
When I was four, my mother was worried about me, so she took me to the doctor and even though it took awhile to figure out what was wrong with me, they finally did.
I’m autistic.
I know. You don’t have any idea what that means and that’s okay. No one does. I’m not even sure I do and I’m the one that’s spent the last 13 years living with it.
Here’s the thing. People think that because I don’t talk much or I seem to always be lost in my own little world, that I’m stupid or deaf. Some even think I’m retarded. I’m none of those things and I don’t like that word. It makes me cringe and want to cry every single time I hear it and trust me, I hear it a lot here in Wexfield.
Being autistic is different for everyone that experiences it. Some people have things that are similar, but for the most part, we’re all different. That’s why there’s this whole list that doctors have about it because there’s so many different forms, that you can’t lump everyone in the same one.
For me it’s like this.
When I was little, I didn’t speak until I was six and even when I did, it was like I was two because I didn’t speak the way the rest of the kids my age did. I would point, grunt and jump for what I wanted and when that didn’t work, I would get frustrated and hit myself until my mom figured it out.
I didn’t eat like anyone else. It had to be crushed and mushy so I could swallow it. It hasn’t changed much since then either. I can eat a few things that I have to chew instead of just swallow, but for the most part, I still like the ease of just swallowing.
I wasn’t completely potty trained until I was eight. I didn’t understand the whole bathroom thing because I was so lost in my own thoughts that I didn’t understand the feeling that happens when you have to go. Yeah, I know, it’s gross, but that’s just me.
I got better with it over the years, but I still have accidents now and I’m seventeen. For years, my mom would keep me home because of it, but eventually she figured I had to adapt to the real world so I started going to school. Trust me, that didn’t help and I don’t think it ever will. Sometimes I wish I was at home still because then if I have them, no one would be around to see it.
Just because I’ve got issues, doesn’t mean it’s all I am. There’s a whole lot more to me, but no one really takes the time to get to know it. So I’m supposed to sit here now and write about it.
The one thing that still shocks people most about me is that I’m insane for numbers. I’m actually in advanced placement math because there’s just something about it that’s easy for me. As long as I have numbers around, I’m at my most comfortable. I guess that sort of takes away from everyone’s belief that I’m dumb, so I don’t go out of my way to call attention to it.
I also like stories. I guess when you’re like me and spend most days being made fun of, called names or even worse, ignored, like you’re part of the scenery, escaping into a make believe world where everything turns out right in the end isn’t a bad thing. Usually though, when it happens, I end up talking to myself or to the characters I’m reading or writing about.