Huang MengxiHuang Mengxi (黄梦曦) is a senior student at Shenzhen Middle School. She is fond of literature, especially English literature. She became interested in psychology a few years ago and started interacting with children with autism and other mental illnesses.

    This serial story is based on the experience she had while volunteering at a local psychological hospital and partcipating in other charity activities. It tells the story of a teenager with Asperger syndrome who observes the adult world from a special perspective and struggles with the ideals of love and affection.Continued from Chapter II

    It took us about 40 minutes to walk to my schoo. At the school gate, Ms. Davis waved goodbye before she waltzed away with her boyfriend until she was in the mood to go back and do the cleaning.

    My school was horrible. It was enormous, so enormous that every time I stepped into it I felt devoured and would drown in it. In spite of its vastness, it was crowded with people walking around cheek by jowl. There was always an incessant droning and buzzing that drove me nuts. I suspect it could be pretty quiet and lonely there after everyone left for the day, but I’ve never been there during that time. Ms. Davis was always the punctual sort.

    My English and religion teacher, Ms. Humphrey, was a plump young woman. To be fair, she was not a bad teacher. She had a beautiful voice that flowed like a stream when she was reciting poems, and she usually wore a dull apricot jacket with a pale orange skirt that I liked. But once in a while, when a student was being obnoxious, I could feel that she was nervous. She had an awkwardness and clumsiness very characteristic of a young, inexperienced teacher lacking in confidence.

    One day before the bell rang, Ms. Humphrey walked into class with her slight strut. The classroom was a mess. Some chalk had been stolen from blackboard and Jimmy, Sam and Chuck were throwing them like darts. Some girls were chatting. Another boy in my class started making high-pitched noises. His screeches were like blunted arrows released from an obnoxious cuckoo clock that tore at my stomach.

    “Mr. Anderson, please be quiet!” Ms. Humphrey demanded, addressing the screeching boy. I felt very uneasy and began squirming in my seat.

    “Mr. Lewis, what do you think you are doing?” She was looking straight at me.

    Ms. Humphrey had an unnerving stare that made me feel like she was stirring my brains with a long stick. I lowered my head, trying to escape that soul-piercing stare, but my effort was futile. I rushed out of the classroom as fast as I could with Ms. Humphrey’s piercing “Get back!” still lingering in my ears. I shook my head to try and get her voice and her stares out of my head when I suddenly bumped into someone and fell back onto the floor.

    “Gosh, are you alright?”

    I looked up and saw books scattered around the floor. The veins in my forehead were throbbing hard. My nose felt twitchy.

    “Oh, darling, are you hurt? I’m so sorry. Let me help you.”

    A hand was held out to me. It looked very clean and soft. I took another look at the scattered books and felt like crying.

    “Oh, don’t mind that; it’s OK now.”

    I finally looked at the source of the voice and saw a girl several years older than me looking gently into my eyes. She bent down to collect the books on the floor and stacked them up again. She had light green eyes that resembled turquoise and long, smooth auburn hair. There were freckles on her cheeks. I looked down, my eyes fixing on her neat red-striped sneakers. She didn’t bend lower to meet my eyes, but I could feel her attention directed toward me. It made me feel safe and secure.

    “What’s your name?” she asked.

    I felt her soothing breath gently blowing over my hair. I didn’t answer but relished the warmth of her voice.

    “It’s alright. My name is Harriet.”

    I still didn’t look her in the eyes, but I could feel their tenderness, like a summer breeze ruffling the trees of a lush forest.

    The clicking of Ms. Humphrey’s heels rang through the hall.

    “Told you not to run around wild like that!” she screeched as she ran up to me.

    Harriet stood up. “Got to dash. You are going to be late for class,” she said. “I hope next time we run into each other it won’t be literally.”

    I looked at her. The expression on her face was so genuine and warm that I felt very comfortable. I tried to imitate it, but I didn’t know how. It was very frustrating. As I watched Harriet’s figure gradually walk away, I didn’t cry.(To be continued)