“So what’d you want to talk to us about?” I ask her.
“I got you guys something,” Samantha says.
“Is it donuts?” Todd asks.
When Samantha cracks up, I start feeling jealous again. “It’s way better than donuts. Close your eyes, okay? Both of you.”
We close our eyes. I can hear Samantha running to the back of the donut shop. When she comes back, she is out of breath. “Okay,” she says, “you can open your eyes.”
Samantha hands me and Todd a beautifully wrapped package. “It’s something you can work on together,” she says.
Todd and I tear off the wrapping. Samantha has bought us a kit to build a model Cessna 172. “Wow,” I say, “what a great present. It’s got four hundred pieces. And it comes with a pilot and four passengers.” I know it’s Samantha’s way of telling us she’ll never forget that day at the flight school.
Todd is inspecting the box.
“Do you like it?” Samantha asks him.
Todd puts the box down and starts rearranging the napkin bits. “The Cessna 172 is okay. But the Dash 8 is still my favorite,” he says.
I figure any minute now Samantha is going to run out of patience with Todd and realize I am a far better guy for her than my cousin.
But Samantha is not upset. “You know what I like best about you, Todd?” she asks.
Now Todd is scratching his pits.
“I like your honesty.” Samantha reaches across the table. For a second, I think she is going to take Todd’s hand, but instead she reaches for the model kit. “How ’bout on Saturday, after the rally, we go to the hobby store and see if we can exchange this for a Dash 8 kit?”
As if things weren’t bad enough, now Todd and Samantha are going to be hanging out together after the rally.
I am trying to think of how I can fix things. Only I don’t have to. Because Todd has a question.
“Can Jordie come too?” he wants to know.
Chapter Seventeen
It’s too bad Uncle Fred can’t be at the rally. At least he’s sleeping and eating again. Mom thinks it’s a combination of the new meds and his sessions with the psychiatrist. It turns out the psychiatrist is a documentary-film buff—so I guess she and Uncle Fred have lots to talk about.
A crowd has formed in the schoolyard. Many people are carrying placards that say things like Down With Hate Mail and Autism Is Not a Disease—Ignorance Is.
As I’m stepping out of the van, Todd hands me a folded-up piece of paper, which I slip into my pocket. “You sure?” I ask him.
“Uh-huh,” he says.
Now I notice the banner over the front entrance of the school. Todd’s Our Hero.
Todd is going to stay in the van with Mom, Dad and Aunt Anna. Dad has unrolled the windows so Todd can be part of the rally and apart from it at the same time. I catch Dad’s eye and point to the banner, so he’ll be sure Todd sees it too.
A few kids who spot Todd through the open window start chanting his name. Todd! Todd! Todd!
When I look back at Todd, I see he’s got his hands over his ears.
“Hey,” I call out to the crowd in my loudest voice. “No chanting, okay?”
Mr. Delisle comes over to where I am standing. That must be his wife with him. I hope no one mentions what he said at the assembly about his mother-in-law!
Mr. Delisle addresses the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls,” he says, “now that Todd and his family have arrived, this rally can officially begin. Our guest of honor prefers to be part of the procession from inside the van. The rest of us are going to be walking to city hall to raise awareness about autism.”
Teachers, kids and even the guy from Todd’s building have come out for the rally.
I give Todd a thumbs-up before I join the crowd.
For a second, Todd looks puzzled, but then he gives me a thumbs-up back.
Darlene is there too. She’s walking with a group of Riverside teachers.
Dad is driving the van slowly to the right of the crowd. When the van stops for a light, some kids start pressing in on it. They want to see Todd—and talk to him. “One at a time,” I call out.
Tyrone apologizes for what happened at the Halloween dance. Mark is going to Florida at Christmas, and he wants to know what Todd thinks of Air Canada’s Boeing 767.
“The 767-300 ER?” Todd asks.
“Uh, I guess,” Mark says.
“The 767-300 ER was Boeing’s first wide-body twinjet,” Todd says.
Mark whistles.
At the next light, Mark’s sister wants to meet Todd. She’s reaching into the van, when I stop her. “Todd doesn’t like when people he doesn’t know get too close,” I explain.
Samantha pushes her way through the crowd to join me. “Can you believe all these people?” she says. “And they’re all here for Todd!”
As we approach city hall, Mr. Delisle and his wife come to march next to us. “Jordie,” Mr. Delisle says, “I’m going to say a few words when we get there. I understand you’ve agreed to say something too.”
“Yup,” I say. “That’s the plan.”
Mr. Delisle explains a little about autism and how there are more and more students with autism in the public school system. Then he tells everyone about what happened at the flight school and how Todd was a hero. Mr. Delisle also gives his speech about acceptance.
Then it’s my turn.
“I just want to say thanks to all of you for turning up today to show your support.”
When I realize I’ve been talking to my feet, I look up. That’s when I notice a blond-haired woman walking over to join the crowd. Samantha’s stepmom.
I reach into my pocket. “Todd wrote a letter he wants me to read for him.”
The crowd gets so quiet I can hear the sound of people around me breathing. I unfold the letter. In a weird way, I feel like Todd when I start reading it. As if we’re one person. “Hello,” the letter begins.
“A lot of things are hard for people like me who have autism. Such as making eye contact and hearing loud noises and being part of a crowd. That’s why I asked my cousin Jordie to read this letter for me.
“I heard about the hate mail. A lot of people want to know who wrote it. But not me. Because, in a way, that letter did something good. It let me find out that you think I’m okay. That you don’t think I’m a freak.”
My voice breaks a little when I read that part.
“I want to say thank you to all of you for coming out today. I also want you to know that people with autism can do anything we want to do. Even if it’s hard for us. And if you really want to help people like me, this is what you can do. You can treat us like we’re human beings. You can ask us to do stuff with you.”
People are clapping now, but I can tell they’re trying not to make too much noise—they’re clapping gently.
I clear my throat to let the crowd know there’s still another paragraph left in Todd’s letter. “I want to say an extra thanks to my mom, my dad, Aunt Julie and Uncle Lou. And especially to my best friend”—I clear my throat again; I really hope no one knows how close I am to crying—“Jordie.”
Acknowledgments
Hate Mail is the result of a project called Libres comme l’art. Made possible by the Blue Metropolis Literary Foundation, the Conférence régionale des élus de Montréal (CREM), and the Conseil des Arts de Montréal (CAM), Libres comme l’art allowed me to be writer-in-residence at Riverdale High School in Pierrefonds, Quebec, during the 2013–14 school year. Together with Karen Scott’s grade-nine English class, we brainstormed ideas for this novel. The students heard almost every chapter as I was writing it. They laughed at the right spots and groaned or raised their hands when things needed fixing. I am grateful to Ms. Scott’s students: Saba-Lou Ahmad Khan, Megan Amofa, Tyrelle Anasara-Diab, Shane Jermie Antoine, Hamzah Bashir Ahmad, Matthew Boucher, Ali Chaudhry, Kelly Cooperberg, Mae-Ann Dilidili-Sales, Kayla D’Ovidio, Rupert Jr. Edwards, Christian Ehninger, Fahad Elsabawi, Alicia Frederi
ck, Cassidy Freidman, Shayne Gallagher, Devontay Green, Sabrina Hilton-Cuillerier, Sarah Joly, Awaiz Junjua, Christopher Kelly, Darlens Leveque, Jared Logan, Liam-Marshall MacLellan, Bhahee Shan Manoranjan, Brett Marineau, Georgia Pournaras, Amanda Powell, Jordana Schmits, John Skalkogiannis, Vito Tarantino and Kiara West-Philippeaux. A special thanks to Hamzah, who, during our first session, mentioned a hate letter targeting an autistic child that had recently made the news. Special thanks also to Ms. Scott for sharing her students; to student teacher Christina Christopoulos; to Principal Roger Rampersad for his enthusiastic support; to librarian Susan Strano for opening up her library for the project; and to Suzanne Nesbitt of the Lester B. Pearson School Board for bringing the project to Riverdale. I’m also grateful to the terrific team at Blue Metropolis, in particular its president, William St-Hilaire, for her wise and energetic leadership; Florence Allegrini, who got things started; and Laure Colin, who oversaw every step of the way. Thanks also to Frédérique Bélair-Bonnet of CREM and Réjane Bougé of CAM. Thanks to Craig Quinn for talking to me about airplanes, and to Philippe Gélinas for inviting me to visit Dorval Aviation School. Thanks also to my friend Elizabeth Arnot for reading an early draft and providing invaluable feedback. Finally, thanks to the super team at Orca, especially to my editor, Melanie Jeffs, for her astute and sensitive comments.
Monique Polak has written several books in the Orca Currents series, including Pyro and 121 Express, an ALA Popular Paperbacks selection. Monique lives in Montreal, Quebec. For more information, visit www.moniquepolak.com.
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