Lucas finally was able to get out of school, after such a long day. Well, it really hadn't been any different from the normal length of a school day, it was just that it had been particularly difficult for him, so that it felt like a longer day.
After walking over to his bicycle, he got on it and started pedalling towards home. He'd passed bike safety with flying colors, and, because of this, he was now allowed to ride his bicycle home from school alone. That was what happened when you turned ten in his school.
Along the way, he passed a lot of his neighbors, but he paid them no heed. He couldn't help but dwell on what his teachers had told him that day.
Lazy! You're just lazy, that's all. Can't you just pay attention like everyone else?
How could he explain, to the satisfaction of his teacher, that the class just didn't interest him? It should have been so easy to explain that he wasn't able to concentrate on what he wasn't particularly interested in. He preferred to sit in the back of the class and draw pictures of Riolu. That was his favorite type of Pokemon, after all.
He arrived home eight minutes after departing the school, for he only lived about half a mile away. Using his long legs for his age, he strode up to the back door of his house. (That was the door they usually entered through, so it wasn't as though this was weird or anything).
"I'm home!" he told his mother.
Lucas could hear the sound of his brother downstairs. Jason had stayed home sick from school that day, and he was clearly playing video games. Lucas wasn't going to go downstairs in order to talk to Jason, though - he didn't want to get sick himself.
"Good afternoon, Lucas" his mother replied sweetly. Noticing that her younger son looked as though he wasn't in a good mood, she asked, "What's wrong?"
"I'll tell you" Lucas replied. He followed his mother into the living room, where she had laid out a plate of cranberry cookies. They were fresh out of the oven.
After both of them sat down on the couch, and each took a cookie, Lucas's mother said, "So...what is it?"
The young boy had a hard time putting it into words how he felt, how it seemed that everything was going wrong.
"All of the teachers have been calling me lazy" he said finally. "I don't know why that is. I mean, I try to do my best work. It's not my fault that all I want to do is draw Riolu pictures".
"I think I know what's going on" his mother said eventually. "Do you want me to explain to you?"
"Please do" Lucas replied, perking up at that suggestion. He was now sitting straighter in his seat, wanting to know what the answer was.
"Do you remember all of the speech therapy you used to do? That you still do sometimes".
"Yes, I do remember" her son said. He was concentrating on saying his R sounds, because those were the sounds he'd always had difficulty with.
"And the OT?"
He remembered all too well. For the most part, he recalled that he'd been forced to stand on one foot for thirty seconds, which had been more arduous than one might expect. It had taken him twelve tries to do so.
"Well...all that is because you are...how do I say it...different".
Lucas perked up yet again. He wanted to know how he was different, because he'd always found uniqueness cool. If he was different from the other kids, it would explain a lot.
"When you were two years old, you were diagnosed with something called Asperger's syndrome".
"What's that?" her son asked her.
"It means that you're very interested in some certain topics, while not interested in others. That's one way in which it manifests itself".
"I see". Even at the age of ten, Lucas knew some big words such as that one. He took another cookie and looked at his mother. "So I'm different?"
"Yes, you could say that" she told her son. "For instance, it seems that you are very interested in Riolu. Well, when you're thirteen, you can go on a journey with a Pokemon. How does that sound?
"Sounds wonderful" Lucas replied. "But this Asperger's thing...is it a disease?"
Lucas's mother decided that she was going to be honest. "Some people would have you think that it is...but I prefer to see it as a difference instead".
But I prefer to see it as a difference instead.
Lucas would always try to do the same. For the rest of his life, he'd always attempt to see himself as different, not broken.
"You're different, Lucas. Not broken. Not lazy. It's going to be fine".
This is the start of what I plan to be a fairly long story. I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and don't forget to review to tell me what you thought of it. I don't plan on speaking for everybody on the spectrum by writing this, but I hope that at least one person will read this and realize that they're not alone.
Yes, I am autistic. I've had it since I was 2, and I'm just used to it by now.
I know this was a really short prologue, but the next chapters are going to be much longer.