“I’m autistic too.”
Well, I guess that’s another option.
I tell a sixteen-year-old something I’ve never told anyone.
Chapter Sixteen
Nico
Callie moves her eyes along my face, her brows furrow, and panic sets in deep inside me. Before I can try to say anything, maybe take it back or laugh it off as a joke, she asks, “Really?”
Lie. Lie. Nico, lie! “Yeah, I have a rare kind of milder autism. My mom calls it atypical autism. There is another big name for it, but I always forget. At first, they said it was a more regular form of autism, but as I got older and went to more doctors, we figured out what it really was. I didn’t talk until I was four, and I was super freaked out by everything. Things overwhelmed me really fast, and if it weren’t for hockey, I don’t think I’d be the guy I am now.”
So, I guess lying wasn’t an option. Instead, I word-vomit on a child. A girl who thinks I’m cool and good at math. Now she’s going to think I’m a crazy, weird person. Just like everyone else when I was growing up. Just how I didn’t want anyone to see me.
“That’s so cool,” Callie says, her eyes wide and excited.
Huh? “What?”
“Like, you’re a superhero,” she gushes, pushing my shoulder back. It reminds me of the way Aviva does it. “Look at you. You came from not being able to speak to playing a position the people on TV say is hard as all get-out. I mean, you’re amazing!”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m weird.”
“No! Your mind works differently. That doesn’t make you weird. I think it makes you awesome,” she says, smacking me again. “That’s so cool, and I know you. I’m so excited.”
I don’t know what to say. “Um. Okay.”
“For real,” she giggles, shaking her head. “Man, I know Camden is really awkward, but he has an excuse. Meanwhile, I’m just awkward and say things because people freak me out. They’re so unpredictable.”
I smile. “Yeah, I feel like that a lot.”
“For sure,” she says, smiling over at me. “So, you said your mom taught you?”
“Yeah, she was my teacher my whole life. She helped me learn in a way that worked for me.”
“That’s incredible,” she sighs, leaning on her hand. “You know, when I Googled you, your autism diagnosis wasn’t on there.”
“I don’t tell people. You’re actually the first person I’ve told.”
Her jaw drops. “Like, ever?”
“Yeah,” I admit shyly.
“Why? Are you worried people will treat you and think of you differently?”
I nod. “Exactly that.”
“But they won’t. They’ll think you’re a damn rock star, and if they don’t, screw them. You’re awesome in my opinion. Man, just solve a problem or block a shot, though. Lately, you’ve been sucking.”
I scoff; she’s so much like her sister. “Please don’t sugarcoat it.”
She grins. “You should be open about it. You could help a lot of people.”
I cock my head. “Why would me having autism help people?”
“Because,” she says softly, “people with autism are treated like there is something wrong with them, when really, there isn’t. There isn’t anything wrong with any of us. We’re all just made up differently. We all have paths that are meant for us, and you could show the world that you can do anything, no matter what, as long as you fight for it.”
I hold her gaze. “You’re very optimistic for everything you’ve been through.”
She nods, her eyes sad. “It was hard watching my mom die, and then when Aviva got her diagnosis, I was terrified. But I watched my sister fight for us. We each only have one life, and I want to be happy. I want to change lives. I want to be what your mom was for you, but for another kid. All kids. I want to help them.”
“You will.”
“I hope so,” she says, shaking her head. “I need to get a scholarship so that it takes the burden off Aviva, but she is freaking out about paying for gymnastics, and she won’t take a handout from the gym.”
“Does she take one from anyone?”
“Nope. She’s too proud.” She looks back at me. “She’s very proud.”
“I know.”
“That’s why she’s an idiot sometimes.”
“I think it adds to her charm.”
She smiles, and I love how her eyes dazzle. “Does Aviva know?”
I shake my head. “Not at all. Please don’t tell her.”
“I won’t,” she promises. “I’m surprised you didn’t tell her when she showed you her scars.”
I press my lips together, eyeing her. “You know about that?”
She nods. “Oh yeah. I heard her with Jaylin, and then when you came into the shop the other day, I was listening in the back.”
I shake my head. “She’d kill you if she knew.”
Callie shrugs. “I don’t care. She hides everything from me. If I didn’t eavesdrop, I would know nothing.”
“I guess not,” I say with a laugh. “Still, that was our business.”