Don't You Dare

Some people.

They just don't get it. I mean, people purposely steal my seat on the bus. They've done that for years. But purposely clapping your hands two feet from my ear after I've told you to stop? Purposely thrusting a basketball to the ground with two hands--an illegal move in the game you're playing-- just because I'm standing nearby?

Purposely directing profanity at me, and following it with "you?"

I'm starting to doubt that some of these sophomores are civilized human beings at all.

There are two of them, really. I have to deal with them three times a week in gym. They have, together, caused multiple public meltdowns and about a dozen at home. Sin-gle-hand-ed-ly.

Last night, Mom called the school and reported it. The guidance counselor had been notified of the profanity I had been subjected to first block, but had no clue about the clapping or basketball.

Yesterday was bad. But today was better.

First off, it was a half day. That's why I'm posting so early. Because of this, from the fifteen or so tokens I had to start with (a concept that I have really loved and embraced since I found out about it) school only took about four or five. I've regained them since arriving home. Of course, my shoulder hurts a ton right now, but that's because I partially dislocate it some nights from my tossing and turning. It'll be alright tomorrow, most likely.

Next thing, one of the boys was gone.

I only deal with him during health and gym normally. Today was a health day. He wasn't present. He was in the office. I'm pretty sure he's an official bully. The other boy was in class, but he had clearly been in the office earlier in the day.

You want to know why autistic children are bullied more often? They aren't. It's just that they will keep it a secret until it's the clearest thing to all of their teachers, unlike the other kids, who tell someone right away. The autistic kids don't have trust. They have to have a lifeline. Otherwise, you won't see the bullies caught until the damage has been done.

Schools, you have been warned.

You see, I remember.

You know, I can't forget.

You may try to understand me,

But I'm something you don't get.

P. S. I'm now typing The Attic from memory. Here's your clue: I share this eidetic memory with the main character's brother, as stated in the fourth short story collection. This older brother "has the greatest capacity for storing facts of any man living." Of course, this was a long time ago.