When I grow up, I want to do lots of things, though my papa says, “You are intellectually disabled, ADHD, and autistic. It may be hard.”
He thinks it will be hard for me to write a book, and it probably will be. He does not want me to get hurt, which is why he says these things.
I don’t know what these things – “intellectually disabled, ADHD, and autistic” – are, but I will look them up in a dictionary. I just learned how to use a dictionary. Sometimes. I was around 13 when I learned. I just learned how to read. Sometimes. I’m a little better now that l am older.
This is the first school I have been to where the teachers like me. So when I say to Ms Priscilla, “l want to write a book,” she says, “That’s a wonderful idea”. She doesn’t laugh like some of my other teachers have.
People call me weird. I don’t think it is a good word.
“Let’s go in the ocean,” my sister Susie squealed.
Although I loved the ocean and learned to swim when was four, I told them I wanted to watch the water. “You both go in.”
“Ahh!” Mama shouted, but she was laughing, too, and so was Susie. So loud.
I had brought my just-in-case notebook, where I kept all my feelings. I forgot to tell you about my just-in-case notebook, and my pen, to write about my angry feelings – and my happy feelings, too. This has been good since now that I am older and am writing
my novel, l have all the stories I want to tell.
In my just-in-case notebook, I wrote a letter to the ocean.
Dear Ocean,
I can’t find your beginning, middle, or end. You are huge. You might be lonely like I am since there is so much of you. Except sand. Except sky.
I give you my secrets. Mama and Papa are getting divorced. Although Mama has explained to me what this means, I forgot to tell her I still don’t really understand. They always said this was going to happen, but it never did, only this time it is for real.
Maybe this time, our house will be quiet, like you. But you are not so quiet.
You make beautiful music when your waves go up, then down, and I can listen to this music all day, every day. I wish I could come here every day instead of going to school. You let me sit here as
long as I want, and I don’t pace like I do everywhere else. So maybe you are my friend. Yes, you are
my friend.
Oh, I forgot to tell you. I am sad there will only be three of us now. I just want everyone to be happy. I miss your music. It makes me happy.
Now that I have started a new high school and also started my novel. I think I am the ocean with no beginning, middle or end. Such is my story.
Oh, I forgot to tell you. Months later, my parents were divorced. It was March. Susie and I saw Papa every week. I missed him. Even though he may love me, he didn’t like me so much.
And he never thought I could write this novel, but I am.
This is an edited extract
