Hi, guys! I hope people are still enjoying my works. The Cars fandom seems very quiet now.
This is a rewrite of one of my old stories that accidentally got deleted. Enjoy (again)! This is also one that's very close to my heart, so please enjoy!
The Yellow Ladybug
"Fudgie?" Luigi opened his daughter's bedroom door. "Are you ready yet?"
Now that she was six, Luigi and Guido would make Fudge dress herself every other day. It was clear that she struggled with buttons and zips, so on those days, they would try to keep it simple for the time being.
"Yep!" the human girl confirmed. She was wearing a T-shirt and shorts and her feet were bare.
"No you are not!" her father corrected her firmly. "You have nothing on your feet."
"I don't want to wear shoes!" Fudge protested. "Or socks!"
Luigi sighed, trying to remain patient with the girl. "I know you don't, Fudge, but you must wear them."
"But why?"
"Do you remember what happened the other week when you did not wear shoes?" Luigi quizzed her.
Fudge stopped in her pouting. She remembered.
"Uncle Doc!" she cried, entering the clinic in tears.
Doc could tell right away that she was limping. "What have you done, kiddo?" he questioned.
Fudge held up her foot, which was bleeding. There was even a little piece of glass stuck inside of it.
"I- I was just playing outside with my bubbles a- and Papà told me to move away from the road", Fudge sobbed. "So I did! A-and then I cut my foot!"
"Where are your shoes?" Doc demanded.
"At home."
Doc groaned. "Fudge, why do you think we're always tellin' you to wear shoes?!"
"Papà just does not want to see you get hurt", Luigi insisted gently.
"I won't get hurt!" Fudge insisted.
"Fudge, shoes", her father instructed firmly.
The six-year-old pouted, but did as she was told.
"(There!)" Luigi beamed at her. "That was not so hard, no? Now, we go to Flo's. I am hungry."
Fudge smiled. "Me too."
"Mornin', Luigi! Mornin', Fudge!" everyone greeted the pair as they arrived at Flo's.
Luigi and Fudge returned the greetings as they took their usual places. Fudge crawled over to a stack of oil cans, which was a little messy. She straightened the pile and turned the cans around, so that all of the labels were in the same position.
"Fudgie, leave those cans alone", Luigi instructed her.
"It's all right, Luigi", Flo assured him with a laugh. "She's not hurting anyone."
Sally smiled too. "I used to babysit a kid who used to do that. His name was Charlie. He was such a sweet kid, but I felt sorry for him. He was autistic and found it hard to make friends."
"What does autistic mean?" Lightning wanted to know.
As Sally explained it, Guido listened with interest. The things that Sally was saying about struggling to communicate and socialise sounded a lot like his own daughter. He watched as Fudge organised the oil cans. He couldn't help but wonder...
Later that afternoon, when the tyre shop had hit a lull, Guido decided to go over to Doc's to see if he could use the computer there. Sally's words had stuck with him. So, he needed to do some research.
On his way over there, he passed Fudge, who was trying to join in a conversation with some kids about her own age. She was trying to yammer away about racing, but the kids were not interested.
"Go away!" a yellow Nissan Micra yelled at her. "We don't care about stupid racing. We're talking about Harry Potter."
"I bet you haven't even seen Harry Potter!" a pink Corvette sneered.
"No", Fudge admitted, "but racing's way better than stupid Harry Potter. Lightning McQueen is the best racer ever! He-"
"He can beat everyone on the track and he can turn right to go left", the Nissan Micra cut in in a bored tone. "You told us a million times already. Get lost. We're not interested!"
The other kids turned back to their conversation and Fudge had no choice but to admit defeat and walk away.
It broke Guido's heart to see his daughter struggle to make friends so much. Everyone had always just assumed that it was because she wasn't used to kids her own age. Although, now, he wasn't sure, especially now that he remembered some unusual things that Fudge did or used to do. For example, she would jump in the bath no matter the temperature of the water; she had always acted very young for her age (even as a four-year-old, she acted more like a two-year-old) and she struggled to play games involving imagination with Mater. The list went on. Guido hadn't been too concerned. He knew that his daughter was different, but now, he kept wondering how different she really was.
"You've noticed it too, huh?" Doc quizzed Guido when he arrived at the clinic and told the Hudson Hornet why he was there.
The little forklift nodded.
Doc gestured to the computer. "You're more than welcome to use it. I think we should find out more."
So, Guido did and searched up the symptoms for autism. He read through them carefully with several sticking out.
Difficulty developing and maintaining relationships appropriate to the age, such as peer play, lack of close friends. That sounded like Fudge all right.
Restricted or fixated interests such as only playing with certain toys or discussing certain topics. She did really only talk about racing and she did play with some unusual toys, like a balloon stick.
Lack of eye contact when speaking. Now that he thought about it, Fudge rarely looked at people during a conversation.
Repetitive speech and movements, such as hand flapping. Fudge was very repetitive in her speech and she tended to flap her hands.
Sometimes, kids with autism had sensory issues (like not wanting to wear certain clothes, if they were human) and could have meltdowns if they felt overwhelmed. That reminded Guido of Fudge's first trip outside of Radiator Springs...
Compared to the quiet and mostly empty small town life of Radiator Springs, Los Angeles felt like a very different world. Most of the others had forgotten how busy and loud big cities could get.
Fudge, however, who had never experienced life outside of Radiator Springs, was completely out of her element. Lots of people swarming the streets, all talking loudly either to other people next to them or into their phones stressed her out.
"Hi! I'm calling to make an appointment with Dr. Wheeler."
"Barbara! Hi! Oh, it's been so long!"
"Suzie! Stop it! Leave your brother alone!"
Then Suzie started screaming and crying, adding to the noise.
Every noise made her jump. Car brakes squealed as some idiot drivers sped past and cars tried to avoid them (also making Fudge worry that she was going to get hit by a car). Construction workers drilled and sawed. The final straw, however, was the sound of sirens wailing. The poor, overwhelmed six-year-old burst into tears.
"No!" she cried, covering her ears.
"Fudgie?" Luigi ventured, clearly concerned.
"No!" she screamed, kicking and banging her fists from her spot in Mater's truck bed. "No, no, no, NO! I hate it here! I wanna go back to Radiator Springs!"
"Fudge, you're the one who insisted on comin'", Doc reminded her.
"She's just not used to the big city", Flo pointed out. "She's never been out of Radiator Springs before. Poor little thing's overwhelmed."
"Oh, my angel!" Luigi exclaimed sympathetically, scooping her up. "It's okay, it's okay! Papà is here. Everyone is here. We are not going to let anything happen to you."
Fudge didn't seem convinced and continued to scream and cry for another twenty minutes, whimpering when there was an especially loud noise.
The website mentioned that children with autism often had unusual or extraordinary talents. Guido thought about that and he what came to mind was the fact that he and the others were in awe at Fudge's amazing memory. She was quite talented at memorising dates and she already knew all of the states and their capitals. (Now, they were teaching her world capitals.) Plus, she knew more about cars and tyres, than any other six-year-old he knew. He wondered if that counted.
Not everything listed applied to Fudge, but the website Guido was looking at said it wouldn't. Autism varied so much between people who had it. That was why it was called the autism spectrum. He was also relieved to know that being autistic meant that Fudge's brain wasn't inferior to everyone else's in any way. It just worked differently.
"I think..." Guido began slowly in broken English. "Fudge might be..."
Doc nodded in agreement. "I think you're right."
"What... we do?" The forklift wasn't particularly worried, but he wished that there was something they could do to make things a little easier for her.
Doc sighed. "I know a child psychologist in Ashgrove. She could probably get Fudge officially diagnosed. I'll call her."
So, he did. Fudge had an appointment for the following Tuesday. Guido left the clinic feeling satisfied. Although, he did feel a little guilty. He knew he should've consulted Luigi before making the appointment. Still, he knew that the Fiat wouldn't mind. He always had Fudge's best interests at heart. How could he mind?
Guido brought it up while the two of them were making dinner that evening. They both seemed to be in a good mood then. Lots of wonderful smells were coming from the kitchen. They had the radio playing Italian music and they were both humming along happily.
"Luigi?" Guido began nervously.
"Hmm?" Luigi responded absently, still focused on what he was doing.
"(Do you remember Sally talking earlier? About how she used to babysit a child who was... autistic?)"
Luigi paused for a moment, frowning tried to remember. Then he nodded, though he still looked confused. He wondered where this could possibly be going.
"(Well, it got me thinking...)"
Guido explained that the things Sally had said reminded him of their own daughter. Then he described the research he had done at Doc's.
Luigi was still frowning. "(You think Fudge is autistic?)"
"(You don't?)"
"(There is nothing wrong with her)", Luigi stated firmly. He turned back to his task as if to say, End of discussion.
But Guido wasn't quite so ready to let it go. "(I never said that.)"
"(Yes you did!)" the Fiat insisted accusingly. "(You just said you think she is autistic.)"
"(That is true)", Guido acknowledged with a sigh, "(but that doesn't mean there is anything wrong with her. It just means she is a little bit different. I was researching it earlier. I have learned a lot and the website specifically said that it doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with her.)" He sighed again. "(Maybe if we took her to see a psychologist, you would see-)"
"(She doesn't need to see a psychologist! She is perfect just the way she is!)" Luigi shouted. He often saw Fudge through rose-tinted glasses. "(She does not need a psychologist- or anyone else- sticking a label to her.)"
Guido sighed. He was much calmer and more rational than Luigi. He was used to the Fiat's ways by now, but sometimes, making him see reason was hard.
"(People are always going to stick labels to her)", the forklift pointed out. "(That's just what people do. At least this way, it will be the right label. What is the harm in taking her to a psychologist and seeing what they have to say?)"
Luigi shook his hood. "(There is plenty of harm. Fudge is my daughter. I know what she needs and it is not this!)"
For a moment, Guido just looked stunned as if Luigi had slapped him.
"(What?!)" Luigi demanded.
"(Your daughter?!)"
"Si...?" Luigi replied, unsure of where this was going.
"(Fudge is your daughter?!)"
"Si." That's when the Fiat realised why his best was so upset. "(Oh, Guido! I just meant-)"
"(No, no)", Guido cut him off in a quiet voice, cold as ice. "(It is my own fault. Obviously, I have not done enough to look after our daughter. It is not fair of me to leave you to do all the work. So, I will give Fudge her bath tonight. I will make sure she brushes her teeth and gets into bed. And don't bother getting up if she has a nightmare. I will take care of that too!)" On the last syllable, Guido slammed the salad he was making down on the counter, sending bits of it flying. Then he stormed out.
Luigi just stared after him, stunned.
Luigi and Guido were both ominously quiet during dinner that night. Fudge was a little nervous, knowing that something was wrong, but not what.
Guido told her not to worry about it as he undressed her for her bath that night.
"(Papà and I have been best friends since we were younger than you)", he reminded his daughter, "(and we have had worse fights than this. We will be fine.)"
Sure enough, the next morning, Luigi apologised to Guido and the little forklift accepted his apology.
"(I still do not think she needs to see a psychologist)", Luigi insisted, despite the apology.
Both Luigi and Guido loved their daughter very much and they both just wanted what was best for her. The problem was, on this occasion, they had different ideas on what was best for her.
Luigi doesn't know I already made the appointment, Guido told himself. I don't see why I shouldn't just take her. If she is not autistic, then there is no reason for Luigi to know.
So, that was exactly what Guido planned to do.
Tuesday rolled around. Guido waited patiently for Fudge to be ready.
"(I hate these shoes!)" she whined as she did up the Velcro straps. "(They're too tight!)"
"(I know. That is why we are going to get you some new ones)", Guido informed her,
That was what Guido had told both Luigi and Fudge they were doing: getting her some new shoes. Of course, he really would take her to do that before the appointment, so Luigi wouldn't get suspicious.
"(I will see you later, angel.)" Luigi gave his daughter a big kiss as she left with her other father. "(Be good for Babbo, okay?)"
"Okay! Ciao, Papà!" Fudge waved cheerily.
Soon, she was on the road with Guido and Doc.
"Uncle Doc? How come you're coming?" she wondered.
"Babbo asked me to come", Doc explained truthfully.
"Oh. Why?"
Doc smiled. "It'll be fun for the three of us to spend some time together."
Fudge grinned. "Yeah!"
That afternoon, after going to the shoe store (where Fudge got some sandals) and having the sandwiches Flo had packed for lunch in the park, Fudge thought that they were going home. She thought wrong.
"(There is one more place we need to go)", Guido explained gently.
"(Where?)" Fudge wondered. All of a sudden, she looked scared. "(Not an orphanage! Please don't leave me!)" Her eyes filled with tears.
"(It is okay, angel!)" Guido soothed his daughter. "(It is not an orphanage. We are taking you to see a doctor.)"
"(Doctor?!)" the six-year-old repeated nervously. "(But I feel fine! Am I getting a shot?!)"
Guido chuckled, stroking her hair. "(No. This is a different kind of doctor, angel.)"
Fudge sighed with relief. "(Oh, good.)"
The psychologist's office was in a large building where several doctors and dentists had their offices. On one side of the building was a pharmacy and on the other side, there was a supermarket. Just as they were about to enter the building, a human woman with a shopping cart and two small children by her side nearly bumped into them.
"Oh, I'm so sorry!" she apologised.
Doc smiled at her. "That's all right."
She looked at the building to her right. "Your kid got a doctors appointment?" she asked sympathetically.
Doc nodded. "With a psychologist. We think she may be autistic and-"
The woman's face was now twisted in disgust. "That is exactly why you shouldn't vaccinate your kids!" she snarled. "I assume she's vaccinated?!"
Guido nodded.
"No wonder she's autistic! Aaron, Jessica, let's go!" She pushed her shopping cart past them, muttering to herself.
Guido looked at Doc, confused.
"Don't listen to her", Doc answered his unvoiced question. "It ain't true that autism is caused by vaccines. It's a load of... bulldozer poop." He'd been about to use a much harsher term, but thought the better of it in the presence of a six-year-old.
Guido nodded, but he felt bad. It was awful to find out that people refused to vaccinate their children and would rather spread horrible diseases than have a child like his.
"Babbo?" Fudge ventured uncertainly.
"(Let's go, Fudge.)" Guido huffed as he grabbed her hand.
"(Babbo! You're hurting me!)"
"(Sorry, Fudge.)" He loosened his grip. "(That woman just made me very angry.)"
"(Why?)"
"(It is nothing you need to worry about.)"
When they entered the waiting room for the psychologist, the first thing Fudge noticed wasn't the artwork on the walls, all done by children and most of them being of yellow ladybugs. It wasn't the green couches with brightly coloured cushions. It wasn't even the huge collection of toys children could play with. No. The first thing Fudge noticed was...
"Papà!"
"(What?!)" Guido gasped as Fudge let go of his fork and ran off.
Sure enough, she ran straight to Luigi, who was on the other side of the room. And he did not look happy.
What is he doing here? both Guido and Doc wondered, but there was no time to find out.
"Can I help you, sir?" The red forklift behind the reception desk was trying to get Guido's attention.
Doc came forward. "I'm Doctor Paul Hudson and this is Guido Rossi." He explained briefly that Guido didn't speak much English and he was there as an interpreter. "We made an appointment with Doctor Mary Anne Sullivan for his daughter, Fudge Rossi-Topolino."
The receptionist searched on her computer for a moment before looking confused. "Who?"
For a moment, Doc was worried. Had they not made the appointment? Or had they come at the wrong time? Then he remembered. They were so used to calling Fudge Fudge that they all forgot her real name all the time. "Brittney", he corrected himself. "Brittney Rossi-Topolino."
The receptionist took another look at the computer. "Ah! Yes! There she is. Why don't you park over there. Dr. Sullivan should be ready in just a few minutes."
Doc nodded. "Thank you."
"Grazie", Guido added.
Sensing an awkward situation with the two Italians, Doc turned to Fudge. "Why don't you go play, kiddo? Look, see all those toys over there?"
"Okay!" Fudge studied the toys and soon became fascinated with the abacus, sliding the beads down the slopes.
"(I can't believe you did this, Guido!)" Luigi exclaimed, his eyes still on Fudge. "(I told you I didn't want her to come here.)"
"(I just had to know if she is autistic)", Guido explained calmly. "(It's no big deal if she is.)"
"(But how could you go behind my back?!)"
"(Because if you knew, you would have said no!)"
Luigi nodded emphatically. "(Of course.)"
Guido raised an eye frame. "(And you wonder why I didn't tell you?)"
Doc couldn't help smiling. This was starting to get a little funny.
"(How did you know we were here, anyway?)" Guido wondered.
"(Next time, don't write the appointment down in your calendar and then leave your calendar out in the open.)"
A long silence followed.
"(I am taking Fudge home)", Luigi announced firmly. "(She does not need any of this. Fudgie!)"
Fudge turned to look.
"(Keep playing, Fudgie!)" Guido instructed. He turned back to Luigi and hissed, "(Just because you say no, then that's it?! In case you have forgotten, I am her father too!)"
"(No. I have not forgotten)", Luigi countered in a surprisingly small voice.
"(Well, you don't act like you remember. What do you think of me as? Her uncle? Her baby-sitter? What?)"
Luigi didn't answer.
"(Luigi! I want to know!)"
Luigi turned to Doc. "You don't really think this is a good idea, do you?"
Doc sighed. "I don't think it can hurt. Besides, we're here now. Might as well see what the psychologist has to say."
"But you don't really think she is autistic?"
"Yeah, I do", Doc told him simply.
"Brittney Rossi-Topolino?"
Fudge made no movement, still occupied by the abacus.
"That's you, Fudge", Doc whispered. "Come on, kiddo."
The psychologist looked surprised and Doc explained that she wasn't used to responding to Brittney because they always called her Fudge.
The psychologist smiled. "Fudge, it is, then." She introduced herself to the group as Dr. Mary Anne Sullivan and shook wheels with each of the grownups. She was a dark pink Toyota Yaris with tortoiseshell-framed glasses over her soft brown eyes and a friendly smile. Right away, Guido liked her; Luigi did not.
"What are you going to do to my daughter?" Luigi demanded.
Dr. Sullivan looked slightly taken aback.
"He's a little sceptical about all this", Doc explained with an apologetic smile.
Dr. Sullivan nodded understandingly. "Just to start off, I want to ask you two a couple of questions. While I do that, I'm just going to let her play with some toys. I want to see how she plays."
That didn't seem so bad, but Luigi still didn't believe that any of it was necessary.
So, a few minutes later, Fudge was in Dr. Sullivan's office, playing with another abacus while the doctor asked her dads some questions. She didn't understand why she wanted to know that Fudge didn't like wearing socks or shoes or that she tended to repeat herself a lot. Neither did Luigi.
"Yes, she's got a very good memory", Doc translated for Guido. "She knows all the state capitals."
"Really?" Dr. Sullivan sounded impressed. "Fudge, what is the capital of our state? Arizona?"
Fudge grinned. She knew that she impressed grownups by doing this and she loved that. "Phoenix!" she announced triumphantly.
"Rhode Island? Texas? Michigan?"
Fudge got every single one right and Dr. Sullivan was amazed.
"If it's all right with you, I would like a few minutes alone with Fudge. I'm not going to hurt her", Dr. Sullivan assured Luigi hurriedly, seeing his anxious expression. "I'm just going to give her some games and puzzles."
The three stated that it was all right with them, but warned the psychologist of Fudge's abandonment issues. As soon as they started toward the door, the human girl looked scared to death. Her dads both assured her gently that they would be back for her soon and would wait right outside if she needed them. That made her feel a little better. Still, she didn't want them to leave.
Outside, Luigi glared at Guido. "(I hope you are happy!)" he snapped. "(You have traumatised our daughter.)"
"(This is not the first time she has had abandonment issues!)" Guido countered. "(And I don't think that anything else that has happened has been traumatising at all! You are overreacting!)"
"(She thinks that something must be wrong with her!)" Luigi insisted. "(Why else would she be seeing a doctor?!)"
"(Fudge doesn't think that)", Guido disagreed. "(She doesn't know why she is here.)"
"(You did not tell her?! Why would you do that?!)"
"(I did not want her to worry. I was going to explain everything to her after the appointment.)"
"(There will be nothing to explain because there will be nothing wrong with her!)" Luigi stated firmly. "(Or will you explain to her that you thought something was wrong with her?)"
"(I don't think anything is wrong with her. It is just obvious that she is different.)"
"(Of course she is different! She is our child! She is unique.)"
"(I know that! But that is not what I mean.)"
The two of them argued back and forth for a long time. Doc could only understand bits and pieces of it, so he could tell that they were arguing. He rolled his eyes, wondering if they ever got tired of it. At least this time, they were arguing about something important, not just which one of them looked more like a Ferrari. It was obvious that both Italians loved their daughter immensely.
Finally, Dr. Sullivan opened the door to her office, ending the argument.
"Papà! Babbo!" Fudge exclaimed, rushing towards her fathers.
"Well?" Luigi quizzed the psychologist. "There is nothing wrong with her. She is perfect, yes?"
Dr. Sullivan nodded. "Of course there's nothing wrong with her. She's a wonderful little girl."
Luigi smirked at Guido, looking both smug and triumphant. Clearly, it was a look that said, I told you so.
"However", Dr. Sullivan went on, making Luigi's heart sink, "based on what you have told me and what I have witnessed, I would say that Fudge is autistic."
Luigi looked horrified. Guido tried to look as smug and triumphant as the Fiat had a couple of seconds earlier, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
"(It is not a bad thing)", he assured his best friend. "(It just means that she is a little different to other people, that is all. She is still Fudge; still our precious little angel.)"
Dr. Sullivan, having no idea what Guido had just said repeated the part about it not being a bad thing; just that she was different. "She may find if difficult to make friends sometimes, but it won't always be that way. I've found that people with autism often find each other subconsciously." After a pause, she added, "I'm very glad we were able to get her diagnosed, especially so early on."
"Why is that?" Luigi wondered curiously.
"Well, for one thing, if she ever needs support later in life, it'll be easier for her to get it. Not only that, but, well... It's much harder for girls and women to be diagnosed with autism. It's more common in males and people tend to forget about girls and women with autism. That's what the yellow ladybugs are for", she explained, gesturing to the artwork. "They're the symbol for girls and women on the autism spectrum."
Luigi nodded. He felt like he had a bit more understanding now. He was glad to know that there wasn't anything wrong with his daughter. Even so, he couldn't help but feel worried about how this was going to affect her later in life. He knew from experience that people didn't always like what was "different".
"Can we go now?" Fudge requested.
Everyone laughed.
"Had enough of the doctor's office?" Dr. Sullivan asked with a smile.
Fudge shrugged. "It was good; best time I've had at the doctor's. No shots, no medication."
"Thanks", Doc teased.
"I'm just hungry", the six-year-old stated.
"Well, then let's go get something to eat", Luigi announced. "In fact, you have been so good, I think we should have dinner at McDonald's."
Fudge's eyes lit up. "Really?"
Luigi smiled and kissed the top of her head. "Of course."
So, everyone thanked Dr. Sullivan and they left.
On the way to McDonald's, Luigi turned to Guido. "(I am sorry.)"
Guido was smiling. "(That is not what I want to hear.)"
"(I am glad we were able to get Fudge diagnosed.)"
"(Still not what I want to hear.)" He was still smiling.
Luigi sighed. He knew what it was that Guido wanted to hear. He also knew that he needed to say what Guido wanted. "(You were right.)"
Guido smiled. "(There it is!)"
"(I am sorry, though. And it is not true that I don't think of you as Fudge's father. You are her father. And a great one, as well.)"
"(You really think so? I always worry that I am not as good as you. After all, you've always been a natural.)"
"(Of course! You have done so many things for our daughter that I could never do. You baby proofed our entire home on your own. You were the one who finally got her potty trained when we were all starting to think it would never happen. And you knew what was best for her now. I know Fudge is very likely to have a father like you.)"
Guido beamed. "(She is very lucky to have fathers like us)", he declared.
"So, what was the doctor doing?" Fudge wanted to know as she started on her burger.
Guido explained as simply as he could what autism was.
"So, there's nothing wrong with me?" Fudge questioned uncertainly.
"Of course not", Luigi assured her, kissing the top of her head. "You are just different, you are very special and unique. And that is just the way we like you."
Fudge beamed.
"(Promise us you will never be ashamed of being different)", Guido instructed his daughter.
"(I promise)", she assured both of her dads.
Ten Years Later:
"Fudge!" everyone cried excitedly as Fudge Rossi-Topolino entered the booth.
"Hi, guys!" sixteen-year-old Fudge greeted the children cheerily. "How are you all?"
"Good!" everyone replied.
"I'm glad to hear it and I hope y'all enjoy the race."
Everyone cheered.
"Fudge Rossi-Topolino!" a red Volkswagen Golf shouted. Fudge knew that her name was Belinda AKA Billie. "Look what I drew!" Proudly, she held up a drawing of Fudge on the track. She was surrounded by yellow ladybugs.
"Wow! It's really good!" Fudge exclaimed sincerely.
Billie's mother, Elise Schmidt, smiled at Fudge. "Ms. Rossi-Topolino, I certainly appreciate your doing this. Billie has always wanted to come and see you and Cruz. You're her heroes. It's just that the track is so loud and Billie has sensory issues. She hates loud noises."
Fudge smiled modestly. "I know how she feels. And I was happy to do this."
Now that she was a professional racer, Fudge had been interviewed quite a lot. The fact that she was autistic had come up several times. The human girl had opened up about her experiences and some of the difficulties she'd faced, making it very clear that there was nothing wrong with being autistic. She hated the misinformation about autism (for example, she'd gotten very upset when Jackson Storm had said that something was so stupid that it gave him autism). As Fudge pointed out. she didn't suffer from autism; she suffered from the way people treated her for having it.
So, she had become an inspiration to not only girls and women who dreamed of being racers, but people on the autism spectrum as well. So, Fudge had organised a special event for that particular race. After all, it was the weekend of April second, and April second was World Autism Day.
The race! Fudge better get ready!
"Helmet?"
"Check."
"Gloves?"
"Check."
"Magnets?"
"Check."
Fudge grinned at her best friend and racing partner, Cruz Ramirez. Cruz grinned back as she announced, "We are ready to race!"
"Heck yeah!" Fudge cheered.
"Are you also ready to lose?" a teasing voice called.
Fudge turned around and found her friends approaching. They were Danny Swervez, Joey Sparks, Ryan "Inside" Laney, Bubba Wheelhouse, Chase Racelott, Flick Turner and Blake Fitzgibbons. They didn't care that she was autistic. Well, that wasn't entirely accurate. Of course they cared; it just didn't bother them. In fact, Blake was autistic too.
Fudge laughed. "I'm not afraid of you guys!"
"Bring it on!" Chase grinned.
Luigi and Guido smiled at each other.
"(And we were worried that she would not make friends!)" Guido remarked.
Luigi sighed. "(I suppose we didn't need to be.)" He had initially been sceptical of the diagnosis, but now, he was glad that she had been. He really felt like he had a better understanding because of it. Since then, Luigi had done a lot research into autism in order to understand his daughter the best he could. The crazy, unexpected thing that he had discovered that he himself was autistic! "(Her friends are wonderful and I am so proud of her for organising this for the other autistic children.)"
The Fiat had worried about a lot of things concerning his daughter over the years (like her racing). However, with her autism, he didn't need to worry at all.
As you might have guessed, I think Luigi could be autistic. (I think Red and Mater are too.)
I hope that story didn't come across as too preachy, but I wanted to make it very clear that there's nothing wrong with being autistic. (I also included the part about vaccines to show what a load of BS it is.)
I don't think yellow ladybugs are a symbol for girls and women with autism everywhere, but they are where I live, so I thought it would be nice to include it.
Of course, I would love some reviews, but no hateful comments about the contents. If you're going to criticise, please do so kindly, constructively and about the quality of the writing only. Thank you.