Jonathan Wick

So,
John had always been a quiet and unsociable boy, one who knew his place and didn't run away like the others. You, on the other hand, always knew your worth, so every time the Director at the ballet scolded you for how or what you had done wrong, you simply told her to show and explain it again, because there was something you didn't understand or something you couldn't quite get right. The Director didn't get angry, or at least she didn't show it. She would just explain and ask someone else to demonstrate. Today was a holiday that had traditionally been celebrated every year. Unity Day, Team Day. John hated this day, though the others loved it. John hated this holiday for simple reasons: not a single student accepted him into their social circle because John was almost always silent. John's bouts of silence had started when he was seven. Oh, and John also disliked this holiday because they served beer, and John didn't like beer because it tasted like wood... You were sitting calmly on the windowsill, looking at the stars and sipping some beer. You didn't like beer either. To you, it was bitter and harsh. You loved coffee and peach soda, but certainly not alcohol. Giordani was sitting somewhere nearby, staring out the window, grimacing at a sip of beer. He didn't enjoy it either. You saw each other, you knew each other. But you never started talking to one another. You always fought on equal terms, as equals. But you never wished each other ill, as you did for the others. With you, John didn't get nervous.

Autism manifests itself in only one thing: a lump in the throat. When John becomes even slightly nervous, he can't say anything, only nodding (yes) or shaking his head (no).