Wesley and Me (my short story)

I can still remember the first time I talked to Wesley Colson as if it was yesterday. Every day at recess I would see him playing with his yellow Tonka truck on the far end of the playground by the fence. He was always alone, and I couldn’t comprehend why this was; with his blond hair and freckles, he was by far one of the cutest boys I had ever seen. Each day I would make a promise to myself to go over and talk to him, but I was never able to find the courage. There were several times that I actually made it half way over to him, but my nerves always got the best of me, and I would quickly turn away.
One day, while playing jump rope with my friend Sarah, I stole a glance in Wesley’s direction. As I did so, I noticed a group of boys walking towards him. Once they reached where he was sitting, a tall, dark-haired boy—who appeared to be leading the group—stepped forward and threw a ball directly at Wesley’s face. Immediately after he did this, the other boys followed by throwing balls of their own. My mouth flew open in shock, and I let out a gasp. I was appalled that they could be so cruel, especially to Wesley. He hadn’t even done anything to provoke them! As I watched for Wesley’s reaction, I realized that he wasn’t going to defend himself. Each time a ball would hit him, he would cringe a little but not move away. Enraged by this realization, I threw down my jump rope and started sprinting in the direction of the boys.
“Kennedy! Where are you going?” I heard Sarah call out after me, but I ignored her and continued running as fast as my little legs could take me. Once I reached the group of boys, I moved in between them and Wesley.
“Stop it!” I screamed at them, “What is wrong with you guys? Leave him alone!”
“Move!” the dark-haired boy yelled back at me.
“No!” I refused, “Why are you being so mean to him?”
“Because he’s a loser face!” a different boy replied.
“Yeah!” the other boys agreed in unison. With that comment, I let out an exasperated cry.
“Just leave him alone,” I said in an indignant voice, “or I’m going to get one of the teachers!” When I said this, several of the boys laughed, while some of the others rolled their eyes.
“Whatever,” the dark-haired boy replied. I gave him the angriest look I could produce.
“Looks like you’re a loser face too,” he said with a laugh as he turned to walk away. The others joined in the laughter as they followed him. Ignoring them, I turned to look at Wesley. He was staring very intently at the ground.
“You okay?” I asked in a soft voice, but Wesley continued to look at the ground.
“They’re jerks,” I tried again, “don’t worry about them.” Yet again, Wesley didn’t look up. I noticed that he had slowly started to rock back and forth. As he did this, he anxiously began to look around, avoiding looking at me.
“What’s wrong?” I said in a worried voice. I couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t look at me. I figured that he didn’t want to talk about the bullies, so I decided to take a different approach to conversation.
“Well,” I began, “My name is Kennedy.” He still didn’t look at me. By that point, I had begun to get a little irritated.
“You’re Wesley, right?” Finally, Wesley looked up at me. His big, blue eyes seemed to be filled with fear, but I couldn’t figure out what he would be fearful of. As I stared into his eyes, he quickly looked away.
“Wesley,” he replied in a quiet, monotone voice.
“Well it’s nice to meet you,” I said with a smile. Wesley didn’t reply or return my smile.
“Can I play with you?” I asked in a hesitant voice. Wesley was silent once again. I decided that maybe he just didn’t like me, so I turned to walk away.
“Okay,” I heard a small voice call out from behind me. I slowly turned around to look at him.
“Really?” I asked. Wesley nervously looked around, avoiding my face.
“Yes.”
“Alright,” I said with a smile as I went and sat down next to him.
“Can I see your truck?” I asked. Wesley hesitated before slowly rolling the truck over to me.
“Wow!” I marveled, “This is a cool truck! I like the yellow color.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking at the ground. As I rolled the truck backwards, he quickly grabbed it.
“That’s not how you play with it,” he said while looking at the ground.
“What?” I asked, confused.
“You’re only supposed to roll it forwards.” I didn’t understand why this was, but I agreed to not roll it backwards anymore. As we continued to play, though, I made another mistake. While rolling the truck back to Wesley, my silver charm bracelet hit along the fence, making a continual clanking sound. When Wesley heard this, he let a scream and raised his hands up to cover his ears.
“Wesley!” I exclaimed in a shocked voice, “What’s wrong?”
“Stop it!” he cried.
“Stop what?” I exclaimed, frightened.
“The Noise?”
“What noise?”
“Clanking noise!” he said, as he excessively began to rock back and forth. I immediately stopped rolling the truck.
“It’s okay!” I assured him. In an attempt to stop his rocking, I placed my hands on his shoulders. At my touch, he let out another cry. Shocked and a bit hurt by his reaction, I slowly backed away. For several minutes, I just sat there and watched him rocking. I began to wonder why I had even bothered coming over to him in the first place. He’s so mean! No wonder he was always alone! As I was thinking this, though, I remembered a verse I had heard in Sunday School.
“Do unto others as you would have them to unto you,” I whispered softly to myself. Despite the resentment that had begun to rise up within me, I decided to try to be nice to him once more.
“Wesley,” I said in a calm voice, “Are you okay?”
Wesley’s behavior confused me. I couldn’t figure out why he was so closed off, for all I had been was kind to him. Also, his inability to hold eye contact and his excessive rocking made me feel uneasy. He was definitely not what I expected. I finally understood why no one wanted to be his friend. He was basically a social misfit. Instead of looking down on him for this—as everyone else did—I felt compassion for him. He might have had trouble communicating with others, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t want to. It was only when I came to this realization that I decided to ask him a certain question.
“Will you be my friend?” After I asked this, Wesley’s rocking began to slow. When he finally stopped, he stared intently at the ground. Ever so slowly, Wesley lifted his gaze until our eyes finally met. I will never forget the look he gave me. It was a look of both surprise and confusion. I stared back at him, waiting for a reply.
“Okay,” he said very softly as he fixed his gaze back at the ground.
It has now been eleven years since that day, and we are still the best of friends. Though our friendship has been one of the best I have ever experienced, it definitely has not been easy. As it has been shown in my story, Wesley is not like most people. This is due to the fact that he has Asperger’s Syndrome—a mild form of autism. Those with Asperger’s have trouble interacting socially with others. They also possess odd behavioral habits—such as an inability to hold eye contact, a lack of conversational and social skills, a sensitivity to sound or touch, and a tendency to take things very literally. I once heard an Aspergian say, “People with Asperger’s want contact with people very much. We’re just pathetically clueless at it, that’s all.” It is because of this that Wesley recently thanked me. If I hadn’t befriended him, he might have gone on friendless throughout his life. He believes that if that had happened he might have fallen into some kind of depression. Needless to say, I am very glad that I took a step out of my comfort zone and took a chance on Wesley.