He Sits Alone

• Tahryn Whately, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2012

He sits alone.

The other students are playing in the schoolyard, laughing joyously in the midday heat.

He’s not. He sits under the shade of a tree, brushing his fingers through the tufted grass, his back resting against rough bark.

He and the other students don’t see eye to eye. He sees the world differently.

The other students see the twist of the ball, sailing through the air, as a cluster of teenagers rush to catch it, frantically yelling and blundering about.

He sees the way the grass bends in the wind, swirling and dancing in a freestyle of elegant greens.

The other students thunder across the field, pushing and shoving each other, as their feet pound against the earth, each trying to reach the finish line first.

He sees the way the ants follow an organized line, each waiting their turn to collect food to take home.

The other students form a line of defense as they outshoot their opponents in basketball.

He sees the way the intricate patterns on a leaf make up thousands of tiny lines, each interconnected and equally performing their selected duty.

The other students hold hands with their chosen partner, basking in the companionship between girl and boy, earning their first kiss, their first partner. They work in enormous groups of friends, gossiping, interacting, and joking.

He sees the way everything interconnects.

He sees the way the flowers spring from the earth in a spontaneous bloom of colour. He sees the mother magpie feeding its chicks, the love and devotion it feels. He sees the way the father tries its best to protect its offspring from the human teenagers that mercilessly throw rocks at them, prod them with sticks and try to destroy their nests.

He sees the way the bees beat out staccato rhythms on the flowers, collecting pollen to take back to their hive. He sees the way the golden light shimmers from the sun, the way the trees reach out towards the patchwork sky, the way the Eastern winds whisper through the leaves, telling ancient stories and carrying promises of untouched country, hidden valleys and crystalline rivers.

He sees the way everything is interconnected in a fantastical array of life, love and devotion.

The other students don’t see it. He wishes he could teach them; show them what he sees. But they don’t see eye to eye with him.

To them, he’s just the freakish boy with Autism. He obviously has a mental disability, so he’s obviously too dumb to be a part of their group. He’s the boy who they don’t understand, they don’t accept, and technically, it’s not classed as bullying, because he obviously isn’t all there in the head, so he obviously doesn’t notice all their disgusted looks and pitiful sneers.

He sits alone under the tree. He wishes he could teach them; show them what he sees… because, all along, he’s the same as them. He just sees the world from a different angle.