Why can’t I write? I ask myself for the twelfth time. Not that I’m counting. Usually, I love writing, and I do it even when I’m not supposed to, like in the middle of math class. Now that I finally have a chance to enter a writing contest, and maybe even win and get a chance to get one of my stories published in a magazine, I’m just sitting here, staring at the wall. It’s not even a very interesting wall, just plain light blue with a single poster cheerfully informing me about gum disease. I decided to get the lead cape that my parents put on people when they xray their teeth. Sometimes it helps calm me down when anxious. I’m not really anxious now though, just kind of uneasy. I don’t know why. If you had asked me twenty four hours ago if I wanted a chance to get one of my short stories published, I would have said yes, in fact, I probably would have said it so many times that whoever was doing the asking would have been quite annoyed with me. That's the problem with me though. Not the saying things multiple times, though I should probably work on that too, but the fact that I am so insanely indecisive. I mean, it takes me ages just to decide whether to have mint oreo or rocky road, and that’s ice cream, not exactly a life changing choice. And often I think I want something, but when I get it I actually don’t want it. Suddenly I remember a lesson my eccentric eighth grade English teacher (who had been both a philosopher and a chef before getting into teaching) gave us. The lesson on hopes versus dreams versus fantasy. I remember him telling us that if our fantasies were to come true we wouldn't actually like it. I remember his example of a fantasy that he didn't really want to come true too, playing in an NBA basketball game. I also remember the time his son Rick Rolled him on zoom, and the time this one kid, Maxwell, wore a squid hat as a good luck charm, but those aren't relevant. I realize that getting my writing published was a fantasy, not a hope. I remind myself that I probably won’t win anyway, even if I enter. Then I forget about all that, put the lead cape on, and start writing. Except the I only one of those I succeed at is putting the lead cape on. Instead, I keep thinking about the contest, eighth grade, the contest, zoom, the contest, a cake I once made that looked almost exactly like a toilet paper roll, and the contest, put the lead cape on, and stare at the wall some more. I start to wish it was a more interesting wall. Maybe I should try to convince my parents that their office needs more Harry Potter posters, preferably of Luna Lovegood. After ten more minutes of staring at the Luna-Lovegood-less wall, I decide to do something different. First, I head to my mom’s personal office in search of snacks. She’s not there, which is good, because she would ask about my day, and I can’t think of anything to say about it that won’t make her even more worried about me than she already is. I search in vain for chocolate in the snack drawer. There never is any, but I’m ever hopeful. I settle for fake-butter flavored pretzels, and grab one of those flimsy cones of water from the water cooler. I oddly love the flimsy paper cones though. I feel like they make water taste better. Snack in hand, I go to visit my little brother in one of the other dental rooms.
“Hey Raven!” I call as I step in. I get no answer. As I predicted, he’s painting. I never get an answer when Raven’s painting. “Raven! Earth to Raven! Come in Raven!” I call. Still no answer. “If you don’t answer within exactly twenty seconds, I’m going to eat all the pretzels myself!”. Still no answer. “Twenty, Nineteen, Eighteen,”
“That’s not the proper way to do it!” Raven says, finally looking up from his detailed painting of the dentist’s chair. “You have to count one hippopotamus, two hippopotamus…’
“Actually, I don’t have to count anymore because you responded. Pretzels?” I offer
“Danke schoen, Finch” he replies, grabbing a handful.
“Since when do you speak German?” I ask. I’m fluent in it, but Raven never learned as far as I knew.
“Since never” he replied “All I can say is Danke Schön and Ich spreche kein Deutsch”.
“I could teach you more,” I offer.
“Or I could just make it up” he decides “Kugy bugely uggely oo!”
“Not even close” I tell him “Anything interesting happen in your day?”
“Thea said she had snow balls for lunch but it turned out to be spaghetti. And then at recess she said she was going to throw spaghetti at Sal, but she threw a snowball at him” Raven informed me. “You?”
“In chorus Mr. Bill asked us to sing in assembly, but no one wanted to, so then he said, ‘What if I brought you oreos’ and then Amelie said ‘bribery doesn't work on me’ and Ellie said ‘I love bribery!’” I acted this out, crossing my arms to be Amelie, and throwing my arms excitedly in the air to be Ellie. “Also, I found out in English class about this writing contest for high schoolers and the winner gets published in American Short Fiction”
“I don’t know what American Short Fiction is, but mostly that sounds awesome!” Raven commented.
“The problem is though, I don’t know what to write about.”
“But you always know what to write about! Even at seven in the morning when I don’t even know my name yet!”
“I know,” I said. “I’m probably just being stupid. You want to play charades?”
“Sure, Eric can wait!” Raven replied.
“Who’s Eric?” I asked.
“My painting,” he answered. This actually made sense. Raven always names his paintings.
Our game of charades was rather haphazard. Raven keeped being a big fat pony, which made it easy for me, but not very fun. I keeped being obscure Harry Potter characters, so Raven could never figure out who I was trying to be.
“I’ve only read the first book!” he whined after it took him five minutes to guess professor Lupin “ And I had to stop reading that after the scary bit with the hooded figure in the forbidden forest”
“Ok,” I said, “I’ll only be characters from books we’ve both read”. After that I was every Phobia and the Unicorn character in turn, and I was just starting on Magical Animal Adoption Agency characters, when my mom came in, still wearing her dentist clothes.
“Time to go,” she said.
“Ok” I replied, quitting my Mr. Jams impression and waving bye to Raven. I followed her into the waiting room, grabbed my coat, and put it on while walking to the car.
Once we get out of the parking lot, Mommy askes the inevitable question. “How was your day?”
“Ok” I lie. “We’re probably going to sing in assembly.” I offer.
“Which song?” she asks.
“Probably We’ll Meet Again” I reply.
“We’ll meet again, don't know where…” Mommy sings
“Don’t know when” I join in.
“But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day” we sing.
I think I’ve evaded any more questions, but Mommy asks “ Did anything else happen?”
“I found out about this writing contest for high schoolers in English class and…” I stop myself before I say the other thing that's been just beneath the surface of my mind all afternoon. I don’t want to be one of those teenagers that never tells their parents anything about their lives, but I don’t need to worry her anymore. She has enough worries without me, what with two of the dental hygienists quitting at once, and finding out that Raven is hearing impaired.
“And what?” she asks.
“And umm.. I’m thinking of entering” I quickly cover. Maybe not quick enough, because Mommy looks suspicious, but she lets it go.
The thing that happened had been under the surface of my mind all day though. It’s like that lake we go paddle boarding on in the summer. The surace is calm and reflects the hills like a mirror, but huge fish and snapping turtles lurk underneath. My surface thoughts are light, about things like Harry Potter and cakes, and other things I can think about for ages, but under the surface, thoughts of what happened in science class lurk, ready to nip my toes. Somehow, my mother’s suspicious look is enough to make it all come flooding back.
I’m in science class, sitting at one of the low black tables, finishing up my lab writewright up, when Ms. McKeever tells us to find a partner to share our work with. I don’t move. Eventually, the only ones left are me and this kid named Crown (which is a really weird name). “Why don’t you partner with Finch” Ms. Mckeever suggests to them. My heart starts racing, and I rock back and forth forcefully, and rub my hands up and down my legs. I think I’m actually shaking too. “Hi” Crown says, and smiles. “Hi” I respond shakely. We share our projects.I comment shakely and formulaically on Crown’s popsicle stick orange catapult, always making sure to say the exact same number of good and bad things, so that Crown won’t think that I either like or dislike their design. Then I share my orange solo cup tower, and Crown comments on it. They keep making jokes, but I’m too nervous to laugh. I feel bad, because Crown’s actually pretty funny. If I wasn't so terrified of them, I’d try to get to know them better. Then they wonder aloud what the terminal velocity of an orange is, and thenthan, in a ridiculous english accent, they ask “What is the terminal velocity of a sparrow”. I am still too nervous to laugh, so they try to explain “That's a line from Monty Python and The Holy Grail”.
I don’t know why I do what I do next. Maby, all of Crown’s jokes relaxed me. Maybe the realization that I just had is so awesome that I just have to share it. Whatever the reason, I say “That actually explains a really weird interaction I had one time”. For some reason I’m not even satisfied with just saying that, so I ask “You know Clementine, right?”
“Yeah” replied Crown
“So I was on a trail in the woods,and I was about to cross a bridge when she said ‘you must answer my riddles three.’ ‘What is your name?’ ‘What is your quest?’ ‘what is the terminal velocity of a sparrow?”
“Yeah, that’s from Monty Python. King Auther and his knights try to cross a bridge, and the guardian says that anyone who fails to answer a question will be thrown into the water below. And the guardian asks those three questions, and then king Auther asks ‘Is it an English or American sparrow?’ and the guardian says ‘I don’t know’ so the guardian gets thrown into the water”
Then Ms.McKeever start’s talking, and we have to be quiet, and that’s when the enormity of what I just did hits me. I run. I bolt out of the classroom door thinking Who did you think you were, talking to them like that? Like you were friends?! You probably said something wrong, or in the wrong tone of voice too, and now they're going to tell everyone what a freak you are! I bolt through the hallway, and out the door of the Arts and Science building, those same thoughts going over and over in my head. I bolt across the quad, around the choral mansion, and into the parking lot. Once there, the thoughts that have been swirling around in my head quiete just enough for me to remember that my phone and headphones are in my pocket, pop in the headphones, and put on some John Denver. Once John Denver is singing about sailing on a dream, the thoughts in my head quiete all the way, and my heart stops beating quite so hard. By the time John start’s singing about the dolphin that guides you, I am calm enough to start heading back in the direction of my science classroom. I take the long way though, and walk slowly. I’m not sure if I’m really ready to go back to class yet. To be in the same room as Crown. Eventually I go back to class and nothing else happens. But for the rest of the day memories of these things, and the thoughts of Who did you think you were? follow me.
I try not to cry as all of this runs through my head again. I hate it! I’m not exactly sure what “it” is, but I hate it! I hate myself! I wish I were someone else, anyone else! I stop myself from going down that line of thinking. I know other people have much worse problems than I do. I just wish I was fighting something other than myself. I hate autism too! I hate having autism! I know that if I had had a good day, I would love it, but today, I can’t stop myself from hating it. I hate not knowing the right way to act, and not knowing what people think of me! I hate social anxiety too, and I always hate that, even on a good day.
Then we get to the psychologist's office, and I have to get out of the car, and I have to stop thinking about the things I hate. I climb the stairs to my psychologist’s office and say bye to my mom.
“Hi Finch!” My psychologist, Wendy, greets me as I walk in the door. I sit on a beanbag chair and grab some bees wax to play with while I talk to Wendy. She asks me her usual question “What’s going well, and what’s not going well?” I tell her that the quarter is almost over in school, and I’m pretty confident that I’m going to make high honors again, and that Ice skating lessons are also going well. I tell her that I still hate school. I also tell her about talking to Crown, and how much it scared me, because I don’t need to worry about worrying her. It’s her job to worry about my anxiety, just like it’s my parent’s job to worry about people’s cavities.
“I wish Crown was a book character” I lament. “I’m not scared of book characters. I think I might actually like them if they were a book character”.
“I have an idea!” says Wendy, putting down the bee’s wax that she’s been forming into a perfect cube. “What if next time, you imagined that the other person was a book character. Try to imagine what their story is, and try to imagine that maybe you’re not the villain. Maybe you’re even the deus ex machina!”
I grin. Not only because Wendy is talking about plot devices, which I love, but also because I finally have an Idea for my story. I actually jump up out of my bean bag chair.
“What?” asks Wendy.
“Nothing” I lie, sitting back in my beanbag chair, because I know Wendy doesn't approve of competitions “I like that idea!” I say, maybe a bit too entuiasticly.
We continue our session, but I’m too excited to concentrate on coping strategies. I know what to write about now! I can write a story from Crown’s point of view! Now that I had a starting point, thousands of ideas were buzzing around in my head, but it would be a while before I could actually write them down. First I have to finish my sesion with Wendy. Then, as soon as I get home, it’s time for dinner. It’s delicious, chicken stew with rosemary dumplings floating in it, but I can’t concentrate on it. I’m still thinking about my book. Once, Daddy tries to ask me a question, but I’m not listening, and he has to repeat it three times before I finally tell him that my school doesn't have a skating rink, unfortunately. After dinner, I have to help clear the table, but after that, Ravn goes upstairs to take a shower while reading a book (this might not end well for the book), Mommy starts doing a load of laundry, and Daddy starts washing the dishes, so I took out my computer to type up the story that had been buzzing in my head for the past hour and a half. I opened up a new google doc titled it Crown’s Story, and began typing
It was eight ten, and Crown was in science class, trying to actually work on their orange catapult reflection, instead of on the awesome house they were building in Minecraft…
“Hey Raven!” I call as I step in. I get no answer. As I predicted, he’s painting. I never get an answer when Raven’s painting. “Raven! Earth to Raven! Come in Raven!” I call. Still no answer. “If you don’t answer within exactly twenty seconds, I’m going to eat all the pretzels myself!”. Still no answer. “Twenty, Nineteen, Eighteen,”
“That’s not the proper way to do it!” Raven says, finally looking up from his detailed painting of the dentist’s chair. “You have to count one hippopotamus, two hippopotamus…’
“Actually, I don’t have to count anymore because you responded. Pretzels?” I offer
“Danke schoen, Finch” he replies, grabbing a handful.
“Since when do you speak German?” I ask. I’m fluent in it, but Raven never learned as far as I knew.
“Since never” he replied “All I can say is Danke Schön and Ich spreche kein Deutsch”.
“I could teach you more,” I offer.
“Or I could just make it up” he decides “Kugy bugely uggely oo!”
“Not even close” I tell him “Anything interesting happen in your day?”
“Thea said she had snow balls for lunch but it turned out to be spaghetti. And then at recess she said she was going to throw spaghetti at Sal, but she threw a snowball at him” Raven informed me. “You?”
“In chorus Mr. Bill asked us to sing in assembly, but no one wanted to, so then he said, ‘What if I brought you oreos’ and then Amelie said ‘bribery doesn't work on me’ and Ellie said ‘I love bribery!’” I acted this out, crossing my arms to be Amelie, and throwing my arms excitedly in the air to be Ellie. “Also, I found out in English class about this writing contest for high schoolers and the winner gets published in American Short Fiction”
“I don’t know what American Short Fiction is, but mostly that sounds awesome!” Raven commented.
“The problem is though, I don’t know what to write about.”
“But you always know what to write about! Even at seven in the morning when I don’t even know my name yet!”
“I know,” I said. “I’m probably just being stupid. You want to play charades?”
“Sure, Eric can wait!” Raven replied.
“Who’s Eric?” I asked.
“My painting,” he answered. This actually made sense. Raven always names his paintings.
Our game of charades was rather haphazard. Raven keeped being a big fat pony, which made it easy for me, but not very fun. I keeped being obscure Harry Potter characters, so Raven could never figure out who I was trying to be.
“I’ve only read the first book!” he whined after it took him five minutes to guess professor Lupin “ And I had to stop reading that after the scary bit with the hooded figure in the forbidden forest”
“Ok,” I said, “I’ll only be characters from books we’ve both read”. After that I was every Phobia and the Unicorn character in turn, and I was just starting on Magical Animal Adoption Agency characters, when my mom came in, still wearing her dentist clothes.
“Time to go,” she said.
“Ok” I replied, quitting my Mr. Jams impression and waving bye to Raven. I followed her into the waiting room, grabbed my coat, and put it on while walking to the car.
Once we get out of the parking lot, Mommy askes the inevitable question. “How was your day?”
“Ok” I lie. “We’re probably going to sing in assembly.” I offer.
“Which song?” she asks.
“Probably We’ll Meet Again” I reply.
“We’ll meet again, don't know where…” Mommy sings
“Don’t know when” I join in.
“But I know we’ll meet again some sunny day” we sing.
I think I’ve evaded any more questions, but Mommy asks “ Did anything else happen?”
“I found out about this writing contest for high schoolers in English class and…” I stop myself before I say the other thing that's been just beneath the surface of my mind all afternoon. I don’t want to be one of those teenagers that never tells their parents anything about their lives, but I don’t need to worry her anymore. She has enough worries without me, what with two of the dental hygienists quitting at once, and finding out that Raven is hearing impaired.
“And what?” she asks.
“And umm.. I’m thinking of entering” I quickly cover. Maybe not quick enough, because Mommy looks suspicious, but she lets it go.
The thing that happened had been under the surface of my mind all day though. It’s like that lake we go paddle boarding on in the summer. The surace is calm and reflects the hills like a mirror, but huge fish and snapping turtles lurk underneath. My surface thoughts are light, about things like Harry Potter and cakes, and other things I can think about for ages, but under the surface, thoughts of what happened in science class lurk, ready to nip my toes. Somehow, my mother’s suspicious look is enough to make it all come flooding back.
I’m in science class, sitting at one of the low black tables, finishing up my lab writewright up, when Ms. McKeever tells us to find a partner to share our work with. I don’t move. Eventually, the only ones left are me and this kid named Crown (which is a really weird name). “Why don’t you partner with Finch” Ms. Mckeever suggests to them. My heart starts racing, and I rock back and forth forcefully, and rub my hands up and down my legs. I think I’m actually shaking too. “Hi” Crown says, and smiles. “Hi” I respond shakely. We share our projects.I comment shakely and formulaically on Crown’s popsicle stick orange catapult, always making sure to say the exact same number of good and bad things, so that Crown won’t think that I either like or dislike their design. Then I share my orange solo cup tower, and Crown comments on it. They keep making jokes, but I’m too nervous to laugh. I feel bad, because Crown’s actually pretty funny. If I wasn't so terrified of them, I’d try to get to know them better. Then they wonder aloud what the terminal velocity of an orange is, and thenthan, in a ridiculous english accent, they ask “What is the terminal velocity of a sparrow”. I am still too nervous to laugh, so they try to explain “That's a line from Monty Python and The Holy Grail”.
I don’t know why I do what I do next. Maby, all of Crown’s jokes relaxed me. Maybe the realization that I just had is so awesome that I just have to share it. Whatever the reason, I say “That actually explains a really weird interaction I had one time”. For some reason I’m not even satisfied with just saying that, so I ask “You know Clementine, right?”
“Yeah” replied Crown
“So I was on a trail in the woods,and I was about to cross a bridge when she said ‘you must answer my riddles three.’ ‘What is your name?’ ‘What is your quest?’ ‘what is the terminal velocity of a sparrow?”
“Yeah, that’s from Monty Python. King Auther and his knights try to cross a bridge, and the guardian says that anyone who fails to answer a question will be thrown into the water below. And the guardian asks those three questions, and then king Auther asks ‘Is it an English or American sparrow?’ and the guardian says ‘I don’t know’ so the guardian gets thrown into the water”
Then Ms.McKeever start’s talking, and we have to be quiet, and that’s when the enormity of what I just did hits me. I run. I bolt out of the classroom door thinking Who did you think you were, talking to them like that? Like you were friends?! You probably said something wrong, or in the wrong tone of voice too, and now they're going to tell everyone what a freak you are! I bolt through the hallway, and out the door of the Arts and Science building, those same thoughts going over and over in my head. I bolt across the quad, around the choral mansion, and into the parking lot. Once there, the thoughts that have been swirling around in my head quiete just enough for me to remember that my phone and headphones are in my pocket, pop in the headphones, and put on some John Denver. Once John Denver is singing about sailing on a dream, the thoughts in my head quiete all the way, and my heart stops beating quite so hard. By the time John start’s singing about the dolphin that guides you, I am calm enough to start heading back in the direction of my science classroom. I take the long way though, and walk slowly. I’m not sure if I’m really ready to go back to class yet. To be in the same room as Crown. Eventually I go back to class and nothing else happens. But for the rest of the day memories of these things, and the thoughts of Who did you think you were? follow me.
I try not to cry as all of this runs through my head again. I hate it! I’m not exactly sure what “it” is, but I hate it! I hate myself! I wish I were someone else, anyone else! I stop myself from going down that line of thinking. I know other people have much worse problems than I do. I just wish I was fighting something other than myself. I hate autism too! I hate having autism! I know that if I had had a good day, I would love it, but today, I can’t stop myself from hating it. I hate not knowing the right way to act, and not knowing what people think of me! I hate social anxiety too, and I always hate that, even on a good day.
Then we get to the psychologist's office, and I have to get out of the car, and I have to stop thinking about the things I hate. I climb the stairs to my psychologist’s office and say bye to my mom.
“Hi Finch!” My psychologist, Wendy, greets me as I walk in the door. I sit on a beanbag chair and grab some bees wax to play with while I talk to Wendy. She asks me her usual question “What’s going well, and what’s not going well?” I tell her that the quarter is almost over in school, and I’m pretty confident that I’m going to make high honors again, and that Ice skating lessons are also going well. I tell her that I still hate school. I also tell her about talking to Crown, and how much it scared me, because I don’t need to worry about worrying her. It’s her job to worry about my anxiety, just like it’s my parent’s job to worry about people’s cavities.
“I wish Crown was a book character” I lament. “I’m not scared of book characters. I think I might actually like them if they were a book character”.
“I have an idea!” says Wendy, putting down the bee’s wax that she’s been forming into a perfect cube. “What if next time, you imagined that the other person was a book character. Try to imagine what their story is, and try to imagine that maybe you’re not the villain. Maybe you’re even the deus ex machina!”
I grin. Not only because Wendy is talking about plot devices, which I love, but also because I finally have an Idea for my story. I actually jump up out of my bean bag chair.
“What?” asks Wendy.
“Nothing” I lie, sitting back in my beanbag chair, because I know Wendy doesn't approve of competitions “I like that idea!” I say, maybe a bit too entuiasticly.
We continue our session, but I’m too excited to concentrate on coping strategies. I know what to write about now! I can write a story from Crown’s point of view! Now that I had a starting point, thousands of ideas were buzzing around in my head, but it would be a while before I could actually write them down. First I have to finish my sesion with Wendy. Then, as soon as I get home, it’s time for dinner. It’s delicious, chicken stew with rosemary dumplings floating in it, but I can’t concentrate on it. I’m still thinking about my book. Once, Daddy tries to ask me a question, but I’m not listening, and he has to repeat it three times before I finally tell him that my school doesn't have a skating rink, unfortunately. After dinner, I have to help clear the table, but after that, Ravn goes upstairs to take a shower while reading a book (this might not end well for the book), Mommy starts doing a load of laundry, and Daddy starts washing the dishes, so I took out my computer to type up the story that had been buzzing in my head for the past hour and a half. I opened up a new google doc titled it Crown’s Story, and began typing
It was eight ten, and Crown was in science class, trying to actually work on their orange catapult reflection, instead of on the awesome house they were building in Minecraft…
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