"Susan, this is Kristy," said Mrs. Felder.

"Hi," I said, getting my first close-up look at Susan Felder. And I saw that she was beautiful. Her .eyes were wide and deep brown, and her hair, which was almost as dark as Claudia's, fell in soft curls to her shoulders. She could be a model, I thought.

Since Susan hadn't answered me, I said, "Hi," again.

Susan, still staring into outer space, wrung her hands a few times. Then she turned and flapped her way back to the piano.

I looked at Susan's mother. My eyes must have been question marks.

"She doesn't speak," said Mrs. Felder. "She could, but she doesn't. She can sing, though. Come on. Let's sit on the couch and I'll tell you about Susan." I almost said, "In front of her?" but I realized that Susan probably would not be listening.

Mrs. Felder and I sat down, and I said, "I looked up autism in the dictionary, but I didn't understand the definition." Mrs. Felder smiled. "I'm not surprised. There's a lot more to autism than anyone could fit into a dictionary definition. The best way I can describe it to you - and the symptoms vary from person to person - is that Susan is in her own world, and she doesn't seem to want to leave it. She doesn't communicate with anyone, she exhibits the strange behavior you see now - wringing her hands, clicking her tongue - and she rarely makes eye contact with anyone. Also, she doesn't much like to be touched or hugged, even by her father and me." "What caused it?" I whispered, awed.

Mrs. Felder shook her head. "No one is certain. What we do know is that autistic symptoms always show up by the time a child is three - usually earlier, that most autistic people are boys, and that the syndrome is rare." "Will Susan get better?" I asked.

"Maybe. Some educators and doctors believe that if an autistic child starts acquiring meaningful language by the time he's five, he can become much better.