Chapter 1
“It’s a Rolls!” he says, and he is screaming and smiling and bouncing on the balls of his feet.
You’re tired and you’re stressed and your routine is gone and your sister is crying and you’re nervous but he looks so happy he looks so happy-
“Really?” you ask, trying hard not to let your voice go flat. “Can I see?”
He lets out a squeak of excitement at that and pulls you down the staircase, through a hall with spiderwebs across the walls, and into the garage.
It is a heap of junk, to your eyes, but Chase’s are shining and scrunched up just like they did when you were little, so you let him talk, something about makes and models that you can’t begin to understand but find yourself enjoying anyway.
His hands are flicking back and forth and he’s still bouncing, this six foot tall jock of yours who is now grabbing your hand and squeezing it in a rhythm, still all smiles.
He stops talking a few seconds later but keeps hold of your hand.
You find yourself flapping with the hand not in his and he flaps back, fast and tiny while yours are slower.
(You want to tell him about the spectrum and about brains and about him and you and both of you together, but for now you just want to keep a smile on his face.)