Huang 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 participating 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.

    Chapter IV

    The young Alexandria laurel on our lawn began bearing white, chubby blossoms that spring. Trees have a lively color that reminds me of the first time I touched a soft kitten as it slipped from my fingers, yet the color is not so bright that it hurts my eyes. I could spend hours staring at them nearly in a trance until the talking around me turned into a blurred buzzing that seemed to come from another world. Perhaps if I sat there long enough, my limbs would gradually morph into roots and branches, reaching up towards the infinite azure and imbibing the juice of life from Mother Nature until I finally assumed the form of a stately, vigorous tree.

    A new flu was making the rounds. Mom decided to take several days off work to stay home with me. She didn’t cook much, but she made a mean apple pie. I could take a big slice into my room and eat on it all day.

    Ever since the episode with Ms. Humphrey when she threated to call my mom, I believed I had behaved pretty well. Mom looked worried though. She didn’t say anything, but I saw her crying in her room one day as I passed by her slightly opened bedroom door. She was quiet; I could only tell she was crying because her eyelashes were sparkling. Ms. Humphrey told me people cried when they were upset. I knew I cried when I was upset. But why did mom cry? I hadn’t done anything wrong to upset her, though she sometimes became emotional when she saw me. She would hug me, kiss me on my forehead and say she loved me so much. I liked the faint smell of her jasmine shampooed hair.

    Ms. Davis woke me up a little late one day. We hurried through breakfast and barely made it to school on time. Syl wasn’t there. Jimmy and Chuck, the two members of the “triumvirate of pranks” weren’t either. Col was absent. Ms. Humphrey was especially fond of Col. “Coyle is very talented, and I expect great things from him.” Col could even ignore the teachers in class while he worked on his grand trinket projects; a prerogative Ms. Humphrey had never authorized to me.

    The classroom felt lonely. I picked up a string of long hair from the floor and began playing with it. I entangled it round my pinky, around and around, and then pulled it tight until it hurt.

    On the way back home with Ms. Davis, I put my pinky into my mouth to ease the pain. Ms. Davis was talking on and on about her “impossible” time at the market or something while I hardly paid any attention. Then she suddenly turned to me and asked if I knew anyone in my class who had gotten sick.

    “Shyl…Khol…Chuhhh…”

    Ms. Davis hit my hand with my pinky still in my mouth.

    “Speak clearly!”

    I took my pinky out of my mouth and dried it on my pants. “Syl and Col and Chuck and Jimmy. They didn’t show up for class today.”

    “Did Ms. Humphrey tell you why?”

    “Ms. Humphrey wasn’t at school either. Mr. Kinsley took her place today and taught us Mark Twain.”

    Ms. Denis said, “Daniel is Syl’s twin brother, right? Better not hang out with him for a few days.”

    “Alright. I won’t.”

    Ms. Davis parked the car in front of our house next to a newly planted tree and got out. I touched a leaf on the tree fresh from the rain through the open window, and when I released it, the water splashed all over my face.

    Ms. Davis laughed so hard she fell to her knees.

    (To be continued)