"Not at all?" "Well, a few words when she wants to," I finally answered. "But she can't have a conversation with you." "Why not?" asked Mathew.

The kids were standing in a circle around Susan, staring at her. She was oblivious to them.

I tried to explain about autism.

Then Margo said, "Maybe she can play tag with us. You don't have to talk to play tag." "Yeah!" exclaimed James. "Maybe we could teach her to play." So we tried. First, we decided that James would be It. He would chase the kids slowly around the yard, just to show Susan how the game was played.

"Run, Susan, run!" I cried.

Susan wandered under a tree. She looked up to where the sun was filtering through the branches and began waving one hand in front of her eyes. Under her breath, she hummed the music she'd been playing on the piano earlier.

Then we tried to get Susan to chase the other kids. That didn't work, either, of course.

We were still shouting, "Run, Susan!" when two of the boys who'd regularly been teasing the Hobarts sauntered into the yard. One was a good six inches taller than the other.

"Hey, Crocs," said the short one.

No one answered him.

"What? Are you all deaf?" he asked.

"Funny as a funeral," muttered James.

"What was that?" asked the taller boy. He stood imperiously over James.

At that point, Ben walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. The boy turned around. He didn't look so tall anymore. He probably didn't feel so tall anymore, either. He backed away. And then he caught sight of Susan.

"Who's that?" he asked. "And what's she doing?" (Susan was flapping and clicking and humming under the tree again.) "Her name is Susan Felder," I spoke up. "Who are you guys?" The boys looked at each other. "We're Bob and Craig," said the tall one. "Yeah, he's Bob and I'm Craig," agreed the short one, just as the other one said the same thing.