spent an hour painting her toenails and listening to music and was considering taking a bath and washing her hair when she saw Tyler fly out his back door and grab his bike. As usual he was in a big hurry. She had not spent much time with him lately mostly because she was seeing Lonnie Davis, at least she had been up until a few weeks ago. On the first day of school he sent an IM and broke up with her so he could go out with Linda McFadden. Guys could be such jerks, she thought. She watched Tyler ride away and on a whim decided to follow him and see how he was doing with his fence thing.
She was not exactly sure what the fence thing was about but after finding him unconscious on the ground she was certain it was not good for him. She asked Mr. Phillips in her Introduction to Psychology class about the incident without saying who she was talking about, like he couldn’t guess, but he played along and asked her if her friend was disabled because what she described sounded like self-stimulating behaviour. He told her he learned about self-stim when he worked part time in a group home for mentally challenged adults while attending university.
Self-stim, he explained, is a repetitive action some people with developmental disabilities engage in. It can occasionally help them to organize their thinking by limiting sensory overload but it can also be a destructive or counter-productive behaviour depending on what type of stim it is and how often they do it.
The end of the period buzzer came before she could ask him anything about developmental disabilities and the school year ended before she could talk to him again. It didn’t matter anyway, she knew there was nothing wrong with Tyler. He was a bit weird in some ways and sometimes he was hard to understand, but he was definitely not mentally disabled. In some ways he was the smartest person she knew.
He had a tough time at school but for some subjects, like science, he was a wiz. She had been struggling to understand the genetics module in grade eleven science class and he helped her pass the course and get an A. He knew the answer to every single practice exam question in the text book and he showed her how to think about genetics in a way that made sense to her.
She went into her room and dug through her jewelry box on top of her dresser and found a hair band. She tried to run a comb through her hair but gave up and slipped the band around a handful turning it into a Rasta-style ponytail. It was a tangled mess but it would make riding her bike a lot easier. Her hair was greasy and she didn’t want it in her face while she rode it was too disgusting. She needed to wash it but, like the French Revolution, it could wait.
There was no need to hurry to keep up with Tyler she knew exactly where he was going. She got her bike and arrived at Layton’s fence just as he finished his run and was moving past the far end. She hung back out of sight wondering if he would go again or if he was keeping to the deal they made. She waited and when he kept going she was pleased with herself for the progress he made.
At first she was happy but when he kept going she started to wonder, as he sped away, where he was going. When they hung out together they usually headed to Black Bear Park or the Seven Eleven or the Rec. Centre. She watched him turn in a direction no one ever went and she suspected he spotted her and was trying to ditch her so he could do his fence thing again.
She was not sure why the idea bugged her but it did and she decided to follow him to see what the little freak was up to. She turned the corner on Dunstan Road facing the industrial park in time to see him go through a hole in a fence. She watched him stash his bike behind an abandoned building. She ducked down and hid when he turned and looked in her direction. She watched him from the tall weeds as he walked over to the side of the building and looked around once more then he dropped down into the grass alongside a
She was not exactly sure what the fence thing was about but after finding him unconscious on the ground she was certain it was not good for him. She asked Mr. Phillips in her Introduction to Psychology class about the incident without saying who she was talking about, like he couldn’t guess, but he played along and asked her if her friend was disabled because what she described sounded like self-stimulating behaviour. He told her he learned about self-stim when he worked part time in a group home for mentally challenged adults while attending university.
Self-stim, he explained, is a repetitive action some people with developmental disabilities engage in. It can occasionally help them to organize their thinking by limiting sensory overload but it can also be a destructive or counter-productive behaviour depending on what type of stim it is and how often they do it.
The end of the period buzzer came before she could ask him anything about developmental disabilities and the school year ended before she could talk to him again. It didn’t matter anyway, she knew there was nothing wrong with Tyler. He was a bit weird in some ways and sometimes he was hard to understand, but he was definitely not mentally disabled. In some ways he was the smartest person she knew.
He had a tough time at school but for some subjects, like science, he was a wiz. She had been struggling to understand the genetics module in grade eleven science class and he helped her pass the course and get an A. He knew the answer to every single practice exam question in the text book and he showed her how to think about genetics in a way that made sense to her.
She went into her room and dug through her jewelry box on top of her dresser and found a hair band. She tried to run a comb through her hair but gave up and slipped the band around a handful turning it into a Rasta-style ponytail. It was a tangled mess but it would make riding her bike a lot easier. Her hair was greasy and she didn’t want it in her face while she rode it was too disgusting. She needed to wash it but, like the French Revolution, it could wait.
There was no need to hurry to keep up with Tyler she knew exactly where he was going. She got her bike and arrived at Layton’s fence just as he finished his run and was moving past the far end. She hung back out of sight wondering if he would go again or if he was keeping to the deal they made. She waited and when he kept going she was pleased with herself for the progress he made.
At first she was happy but when he kept going she started to wonder, as he sped away, where he was going. When they hung out together they usually headed to Black Bear Park or the Seven Eleven or the Rec. Centre. She watched him turn in a direction no one ever went and she suspected he spotted her and was trying to ditch her so he could do his fence thing again.
She was not sure why the idea bugged her but it did and she decided to follow him to see what the little freak was up to. She turned the corner on Dunstan Road facing the industrial park in time to see him go through a hole in a fence. She watched him stash his bike behind an abandoned building. She ducked down and hid when he turned and looked in her direction. She watched him from the tall weeds as he walked over to the side of the building and looked around once more then he dropped down into the grass alongside a
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