Tara Kelly - Harmonic Feedback

He smirked. “Need some eyedrops?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s a pretty straightforward question.” He tilted my chin, gazing at me. His left cheekbone was smeared with eyeliner. “Nah, you’re good.”

“I need to get to class.”

“So go to class,” he said softly, dropping his hand. His lips twitched like he was about to laugh.

But I didn’t want to go to class. I wanted to ask him what was so damn funny, or if he really liked Kari, or if he’d ever smoked pot. Anything, really. “What were you listening to in your car?”

His smile faded, and he shrugged. “Probably someone you don’t like.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“So you can hate me more?”

“I don’t… never mind.” I brushed past him and headed toward the school, but he didn’t follow.

“‘Bus Stop’ by the Hollies,” he called after me.

I was glad he couldn’t see the cheesy grin on my face. Mom always played that song when she was in a good mood. And we’d sing an off-key rendition on every road trip. It was the number-two most-played song on my iPod.

M onday, September 10 History is boring. My teacher talks too fast . What am I supposed to write about? I’ve been at Samish High for a week now. Naomi is my only friend here. She doesn’t treat me like I’m a freak. And she loves to talk and sing. Her words fill the gaps in my mind. She’s always smiling too. But I don’t think she’s that happy. My mom is broke, so we’re stuck living with my grandma. But I don’t really feel like writing about Grandma. I see her enough. There’s this boy

“Andrea Horvath?” the teacher asked.

I glanced up, dropping my pen. “Yeah?”

“You’re wanted in Jackie Bartlett’s office. Take your things, please.”

Great, the school counselor. I’d rather have listened to Mrs. Heinz’s skewed perception of U.S. history.

Justin was leaving when I got to Jackie’s office. He hadn’t dressed like me again, thankfully. But he had a slightly different look every day. Almost like he fished things blindly out of a suitcase. Today he wore a gray thermal and a pair of tattered jeans.

I wondered why he had to see the counselor—maybe he needed help picking colleges or something. He gave me a small smile and brushed past me. Like I was just another student. Nobody. And for some reason, I wanted to matter to him.

“Hi,” I said.

He turned around and raised his eyebrows. “Am I hallucinating?”

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t looked at me all week.”

“I—never mind.” I turned on my heel and headed into Jackie’s office. It was true that I buried my face in Go Ask Alice during English class and hid out in the library when Naomi ditched campus at lunch. But I didn’t know what to say when I felt his eyes on me. Everything I thought of sounded stupid—like I couldn’t possibly be interesting to someone like him.

“How are you, Andrea?” Jackie asked. She was lanky with dark hair and big teeth.

“Call me Drea.” I slid into the plastic orange chair, but kept my backpack on.

“Fair enough. Feel free to dump your backpack. Can’t be comfy sitting there like that.”

“I’m fine,” I said, looking at the array of pictures on her desk. Everything from black-and-white arty photos to smiling teens in the sunshine.

“Twix bar?”

“I don’t like chocolate.”

“Ah.” She banged her drawer open. “I’ve got SweeTarts for the chocolate haters.”

I took a couple packages from her—at least she had good taste in nonchocolate candy.

“So, you’ve been here about a week now. How’s it going for you?”

I ripped at the paper and dropped a green SweeTart into my mouth. “It’s fine.”

“Getting used to all the rain?”

I sank into the chair. “Can we skip all the preliminary questions? I’m not having any problems in my classes. I’ve found my way around school just fine, and I’ve even made a friend.”

“Have you seen a lot of counselors before?”

“Of course. You guys think people like me always need the extra help.”

“People like you?”

I hated it when they pretended not to know what I was talking about. “Yep, I’ve got AS and ADHD—and whatever other acronym assigned to me. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Jackie leaned forward and clasped her hands together. “And what do those acronyms mean to you?”

“They’re a constant reminder that I’m a freak. That there’s something wrong with me.”

“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?”