Page 25 of Wants and Needs
“I think that’s everyone,” he says, and looks almost like he’s distracted when he turns to look down at where everyone is.
I keep looking at him, honestly uninterested in anything else.
I have no clue how long we’ve been here. It’s hard to keep track of time when you’re not looking at your phone and night has fallen.
“Hey,” Carter says, and I sit up, thinking he’s talking to me. But then comes a chorus of “hey,” and I follow his gaze to see all those friends I now know a lot more about walking up the small hill toward us.
“Why are you sitting on the ground?” one of them asks, looking at Carter and then at me. His eyes narrow slightly, and I’m not sure why, but I look away regardless.
I think that’s George—I’m pretty sure. I’ve seen George play as a wide receiver for the Boston Sharks.
“We came up here to get away from all the noise,” Carter tells him, his voice very calm. There’s something different about it, though, something I can’t describe. “Have you guys met Liam?” he asks them all and motions to me with a nod.
“Hello,” I tell them, not knowing what to expect at all, but Carter told me they’re good people, and that they wouldn’tmake fun of me. He asked me to trust him. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
I get a variety of greetings and a big smile from Hawk, who walks closer, dragging his husband until they’re sitting next to me, with Hawk between Derek’s legs and his back resting against Derek’s chest.
“I’m really glad you came,” he tells me, and his smile tells me he’s telling the truth. “Wolf is too, though he won’t say it. But we don’t have a lot of people who we’ve known all our lives, you know?”
It takes me a moment to realize he means I’m... important to them?
That’s unexpected.
And it makes me realize something.
“I’m glad I came too,” I murmur.
“Liam’s awesome,” he tells the rest of the group, who have all found spots on the grass to sit until we’re in a circle. “He’s super smart, and he’s the best piano player ever, and he’s one of the best people.”
This time it’s his words that sound different, but because I know him a bit better than Carter, I know they’re defiant.
“Yeah, you guys should hear this research he’s done and the app he’s developing,” Carter says and shakes his head with his eyes wide open. “It’s amazing.”
“What was your research?” Glenn asks. At least I’m pretty sure he’s Glenn because he’s sitting very close to George.
So I explain, giving him the more condensed version compared to my explanation to Carter.
“That’s amazing,” Glenn whispers and looks around, a slowsmile spreading on his face. “You guys finally found another smart one,” he cries out, and bursts out laughing when protests immediately burst out of everyone else. He clearly doesn’t care because he turns back to me. “So you’re a savant,” he concludes. I guess me being Autistic is obvious? It isn’t for everyone, at least not in my experience.
“I am. Though my parents have told me that when I say it like that some people interpret it as bragging. I don’t know what I have to brag about, but that’s why I don’t say it. How did you know?”
“Oh, I have a few friends at MIT who are Autistic. I guess I know the signs by now.” His careless expression has me relaxing. He’s not judging me, clearly, because he keeps talking to me and looking at me even when my gaze is focused on the speck of light over his shoulder. “People are assholes, and most of them don’t know a savant isn’t only someone very smart and talented in a specific field but also someone who’s Autistic. And music is your thing, right? Do you have perfect pitch?”
I don’t know how he came to that conclusion, but I nod wordlessly.
“That’s awesome. I know very little about psychology and sound manipulation, but your research and app sound amazing.”
I falter for a moment, suddenly not knowing what to say to him, but then I remember Carter already gave me the “cheat sheet” as he called it.
“You’re a physicist, right?”
And that’s all Glenn needs to keep the conversation going for another few minutes. Everyone else is caught up in otherconversations, but I tune them out and focus only on Glenn until a growl sounds just beyond our circle.
“What are you all doing all the way up here?” Wolf demands. It’s no hardship to recognize anger. “You’re supposed to be enjoying the party,” he states. He lets go of CJ’s hand and crosses his arms over his chest, and looks down at all of us with that angry frown firmly in place.
“Weareenjoying the party, poopy pants,” Hawk tells him with a smile on his face. I guess if there’s anyone who won’t take Wolf’s anger seriously, it’s Hawk. Just like my brothers never let up with me.
“Yeah, Wolfie,” Derek calls out, using the same nickname Hawk has for their whole life. “Relax.”
