Harmonic Feedback

“Do you think there’s something wrong with you?”

“I feel like…” I shut my eyes, trying to think of the words. “Like I can’t be me if I don’t want to be lonely. Nobody takes me seriously when they know.”

“Do you feel singled out?”

“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.