3

 

The next morning Maven stood in an observation room staring at the child on the other side of the mirror.

He’d arranged toys in a circle and now sat in the middle of the circle. He no longer played with them, touched them, or even looked at them. It was as if they didn’t exist once he’d arranged his circle. The objective seemed to be to build a barrier between himself and the rest of the world.

Poor thing. What must he be thinking and feeling? To be abandoned by his family, to be in a new situation, not knowing anyone, not being able to communicate with anybody.

She couldn’t blame him for building the barrier. Not belonging anywhere was tough. She understood how it felt. Though her situation wasn’t nearly as extreme.

The boy sat staring at the wall, not moving, no expression on his face. Possibly a cover for his fear and confusion. He was cleaned and clothed, but it was hard to believe he was a boy. His long blond curls and his intense blue eyes made him look like a girl.

Maven turned from the observation glass towards Lizzie. “He’s beautiful. Almost angelic.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you’d been around for baths or dressing him.”

“A handful, huh?”

“That’s an understatement. It took three workers to get the job done. He freaks out when anybody touches him. Besides refusing to communicate, he appears to have some behavioral issues.”

“He might not be refusing to communicate. It’s possible he can’t communicate.”

“I suppose you might be right. But either way has the same results so—”

“But there’s a big difference between can’t and won’t. Monumental difference.”

Lizzie’s blond waves shook along with her head. “See, this is what I mean. That’s why you are the perfect person to foster this child until we find out where he belongs. You understand the difference. That means you’ll be more patient, kinder, more loving. And he needs as much of that as he can get.”

Another tug on her heart. Maven shut down her pity. There was no way she could take care of this child. “Not going to happen, so stop the guilt trip, Lizzie. I said I’d help. Besides, he has a perfectly safe place to stay until you find out where he belongs.”

“If we find out. And yes, he’s safe, but not necessarily happy or loved. Every child deserves to be loved, to belong somewhere. And right now, this poor little boy has nowhere to belong. Are you going to go in?” Her friend touched her arm. “I’m not trying to put you on a guilt trip. Really.”

All by himself. So sad.

Maven hardened her heart to Lizzie’s words and answered. “No I’m not going in, you are.”

“Me?” Lizzie sounded as surprised as she looked.

“That’s right. I want to see how he reacts when you try to communicate. Go in and talk with him, try to get him to play. I’ll knock on the mirror when I’ve seen enough.”

 

~*~

 

Lizzie walked into the room.

The boy showed no reaction. Had he heard her?

Lizzie stood outside of the circle of toys. She smiled. “Hi.”

Not even a slight movement. Maybe he was deaf. But even then, he’d be aware that she was in the room.

Lizzie moved from beside him to directly in front of him. “Hi. How are you, sweetie?”

He stared straight ahead at the wall. No eye contact. No response to her voice.

Lizzie stepped inside the circle.

The boy’s muscles tensed. Well, maybe he hadn’t heard Lizzie, but he sure knew she was there. That was clear from his body language, but he still didn’t look at her.

Lizzie sat down cross-legged in front of him.

He scooted away from her to the far edge of the circle of toys. It was obvious he had no desire to interact with her.

“Hi, sweetie. What’s your name?”

Instead of looking at Lizzie, he tilted to one side so he could stare around her and at the same spot on the wall that he’d been watching before she came in.

“My name is Lizzie.” She picked up the small red fire engine beside her. “Do you—”

“Aaaahhhh.” The boy screamed as he lunged for the toy in Lizzie’s hand. He wrenched it from her grip, and then threw it across the room. Still screaming, he stood up. One by one, he picked up the other toys and threw them around the room, some of them hitting the wall and others not. The screaming continued as Maven watched through the observation window on the other side.

Lizzie stood up backing away from him. Her gaze moved to the mirror, begging Maven to free her.

Maven knocked on the window.

Lizzie rolled her eyes and headed for the door.

The boy was still screaming when she left.

As soon as the door closed, the boy stopped screaming.

Lizzie opened the door to the observation room. “Wow. I didn’t expect that sort of reaction. Most kids like me—or at least tolerate me.”

“He’s not most kids.”

“You can say that again. I feel so horrible. I didn’t mean to upset him like that. And I didn’t know how to comfort him since he doesn’t like to be touched.” She wiped at her tears.

“It’s not your fault, Lizzie. And I don’t think there’s anything either of us can do to comfort him. He definitely has some autistic tendencies.”

They both stared through the mirror as the boy retrieved each of the toys and replaced them into their original positions of his circle. When it was complete, he sat down and stared at his spot on the wall once again.