Stories

Simon Says

By Pamela Love

“Kurt!”

I heard Mom calling, but against the back fence, I figured I could pretend I didn’t. Now was not the time to sit around and visit with relatives—not when the ball was rocketing my way!

Bump ! It ricocheted off me, bouncing past my friend Matt. Save!

“Kurt!”

“I’d better go see what my mom wants,” I told Matt.

“I have to go home, anyway,” Matt said. “I’ll see you later.”

I headed for the house.

“What is it, Mom?”

“Come in, please. I need some help. You know your little cousin Simon is here today.”

“Um, sure.”

“I want to talk to Aunt Christina, and Uncle Frank’s out picking up groceries with your dad. So we need you to watch Simon for a while.”

My jaw must’ve dropped a foot. “Watch him do what? Mom, he can’t do anything. Not even talk.”

Simon’s four. We visited his house last summer. On the way there, Mom had told me he’s got something called autism. It’s kind of hard to explain, but it’s like he’s in his own world. So he doesn’t say anything, except “Mama” or “Dada.” He won’t even look anybody in the eye. He doesn’t play with toys, either. When we were over there, he just ran around the room touching things and making weird noises. Sometimes he ripped up magazines, or spun plastic bowls around on the floor. It was a little scary.

“We need you to help out, honey. Your aunt and uncle need a little break. Just do your best.”

I sighed. “Okay. Where is he?”

“In your room.”

My room? I took the stairs two at a time. What was Simon doing in there? What if he’d wrecked something?

But when I got there, he was just sitting on the floor by his mom, squeezing an old teddy bear he’d brought.

Aunt Christina hugged him and said, “Here he is, Simon. Look, it’s your cousin, Kurt.” She gently turned his face, trying to get him to look at me. It didn’t work. He kept his eyes on the floor. “I’m sure you’ll both have fun.”

Then she smiled and whispered, “I really appreciate this, Kurt. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” I muttered as she closed the door behind her.

Well, there we were. Just like I figured he would, Simon started walking around, picking up things and dropping them. Stuff like toy cars was okay, but when he climbed on my desk and reached for my soccer trophy, I had to stop him. Quickly I moved the trophy to a closet shelf.

Simon started to groan and stamp his feet. Great, I thought. Now what?Please God, don’t let him have a tantrum. Quickly, I looked around for something I didn’t mind him holding, something he couldn’t break.

An old board book, The Friendly Farm, was lying on my bookcase. I’d really loved it when I was little. “Here, Simon. Look at the animals.” He took it and sat down, even flipping the pages, but he wasn’t really looking at it.

Boy, was I glad I’d thought of that book! Now if he’d just keep quiet for a while...I picked up a book my coach had given me called Developing Soccer Skills.

But I couldn’t concentrate. For some reason, I kept remembering my parents reading The Friendly Farm to me when I was little. They must’ve done it a million times. I loved it. I wondered if Simon would, too.

So I edged over to him and started reading, using the funny voices Dad used to. I tried to get Simon to say what the animals were, but he wouldn’t.

When I finished the story, he flipped it back open and patted it. So I read it again. Forgetting it hadn’t worked last time, I asked, “What’s that called?”

“Baa, baa,” he said.

“It’s a sheep,” I said. “‘Baa, baa’ is what a sheep says. Can you say ‘sheep’? Try it.”

“Baa, baa,” he repeated.

Oh, well. I turned the page. “What about this one?”

You guessed it—“Moo, moo,” for a cow. After a while, I gave up. He kept making the sounds, though.

Then the door opened. Uncle Frank was standing there. “That was just...amazing, Kurt.” There were tears in his eyes.

“But that’s not a “woof, woof.” It’s a dog,” I pointed out.

“Kurt...” He was hugging Simon. “That’s the first time Simon’s said anything to someone who wasn’t his mom or me. Thank you so much. Look, go tell your aunt, okay?”

Both Aunt Christina and Mom came running. Simon and I had to go through the book again. Every time he made a sound, everyone smiled like you wouldn’t believe.

Mom hugged me hard. “You’ve done a wonderful job,” she said. “You can go play now.”

“Thanks, but...maybe I’ll read him this old book about the zoo first,” I said, taking it down. “Hey, Simon. Look at the bear. He says, ‘Grr-grr.’”

Pretty grrrreat!

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