My name is Isadora Smackle. I'm a teenager. I live in New York. I have Asperger's Syndrome.
I'm a science geek. I aspire to be a future astronaut, but at the pace I'm going, it's not likely to happen.
Ever since I was five, my parents were given a better understanding for why I act so advanced for my age.
My heart belongs to one Farkle Minkus. He is my equal intellect. My arch rival in some areas. My unlike force. Ever since I found out he thought he might have Asperger's Syndrome, I've grown fonder of him, and so have his friends. His blue eyes, the way the lights reflect his structural countenance, that time he made me quiver with the word "apropos." Damn you, Farkle Minkus. I'm under your spell forever.
See, part of having Asperger's Syndrome means I struggle with understanding human behavior. I can't understand emotions. I don't think I'm capable of love. I just know that I'm comfortable around Farkle because we have so much in common. But, I have heard the adage "like forces repel." When Farkle tested negative for Asperger's, we became "opposites." Now I propose this question: Why do I understand love if it's with Farkle? And, more importantly, what about Farkle?
One of Mr. Matthews's lectures involved a debate between my boyfriend and his childhood best friend, Riley Matthews. Riley is kind of a cuckoo-nutter, but I love her anyway. She lost because she failed to see to both sides of the story. The sun is always shining, regardless of what time of day it is. And so are the stars.
I guess Farkle could call me his "stars." Does that make me a collective plasma bound together by gravity? Am I just one ball of heat? Why do I shine?
...
He came to my rescue one day while walking with Lucas and Zay. I was studying at Topanga's by myself when a couple of snobby girls walked up to me. They looked just like Riley and Maya, but they were eviler. The Riley lookalike had a smoothie in her hand. She leaned over my table and dumped the smoothie over my head, covering my glasses. It was so cold. I was shivering in shock. I didn't see the girls run away. However, I sensed the guys coming toward me, offering to help me clean up.
"Smackle, are you all right?" It's hot-stuff Lucas talking to me.
"Oh, I'll be fine," I said as I tried to wipe my face.
I'm trying not to hold in my emotions and tears. If those girls knew I was sensitive to ice cold, they would've spilled the shake on somebody else! Why me? I think I'm crying. Have I cracked?
I felt one person hold my hand while Farkle held my other hand. I know his grip anywhere. I squeezed his hand to help subside my crying. Whosever hand is in my right hand better not... Nevermind. The third guy gripped my shoulder with one hand to wipe the rest of my face with a towel in the other hand. I took my glasses off and noticed three manly blobs surrounding me. I cried even more because I am so grateful that my boyfriend and his friends helped me when I needed it, even if I didn't want it. I leaned toward Farkle and sobbed in his shoulder. He is my comfort space. He tightly embraced me until I calmed down.
For that, I am forever grateful. He came to me in my time of need. Farkle, wherever you are, thank you. I love you, Farkle.