Downhearted - 1. Downhearted

Peter clutched the white plastic grocery bag tightly in his thick fingers. He’d insisted on carrying it himself; the contents were too precious to trust inside his yellow Pikachu backpack. He held it on his lap during the entire bus ride to school, proud of himself for resisting the urge to peek inside, in case the envelopes spilled.

It was Peter’s favorite holiday, and he had dressed for the occasion in his nicest black dress pants—carefully ironed by himself, with his mom supervising—and red v-neck sweater over a white button-down dress shirt. A shiny red bowtie covered in pink hearts completed the ensemble. He had even polished his black shoes until they shone. While he normally styled his hair himself every morning, he had asked his mother to do it for him, knowing she would make it neater than he could.

He exited the bus and followed his peers into their classroom. “Good morning, Petey. My, don’t we look handsome today?” The new aide was nice enough, but treated him like a child. He was eighteen now. An adult, despite the fact he would attend high school until he turned twenty-one.

“My name is Peter, not Petey,” he stated, but it fell on deaf ears since she had already moved on to the next student. He shrugged and hung his coat in his cubby, followed by his backpack, and sat at his desk.

After roll call and current events, it was time to bring out the paper bags they had decorated the day before which would hold the valentines the classmates were going to exchange. Peter had a valentine for everyone in his class, including the teacher and the classroom aides. Each one had been carefully chosen. Brad liked the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, so he received a card featuring Donatello, his favorite Turtle. Sandy liked My Little Pony, so her card had ponies with brightly colored manes and tails, prancing over a rainbow.

Each time he placed an envelope in a bag, he grinned and waved his hands in joy. When he finished, there was one valentine left in the plastic bag. He slid it into his pocket. This was the most special card of all. His plan to deliver it was foolproof. After lunch, he’d ask to go to the bathroom, then sneak into the hallway in between classes when it was empty. He knew exactly which locker to slip the card with a soccer player kicking a heart.

Peter loved school and learned a lot from his teachers, but there was one thing they were wrong about. Boys liked girls and girls liked boys. It was OK to give valentines to friends, but special valentines were for boyfriends and girlfriends. Peter knew they were wrong because none of the girls in his class made him smile the way the soccer player did. His mother taught him that God had made him special and perfect in his own way. If that was true, then part of his specialness was seeing the beauty in other boys. And there was nothing wrong with that.

He knew he wasn’t the only boy who felt that way. He’d seen the soccer player kiss another boy underneath the bleachers after practice one day. If two people liked each other, why couldn’t they hold hands or kiss? What difference did it make if it was a boy and girl or two boys?

Peter executed his plan perfectly, and no one saw him slide the white envelope into the orange locker. He hoped it made Evan smile just like his classmates did after receiving their cards. He had used his best printing underneath the words: You kicked your way into my heart, adding Your friend, Peter.

Peter knew he wasn’t as smart as other people, but he wasn’t stupid. He didn’t expect the cute soccer player to want to hold hands or kiss him like he did the small boy with glasses. Boys like Evan weren’t interested in dating people with Down syndrome, but Peter hoped that he could at least make a new friend.

At the end of the day, Peter turned left down the hallway instead of right. Going right would take him to his bus, going left would take him by Evan’s locker. He hoped the cute boy would be there so he could introduce himself. He smiled broadly when he saw Evan’s chestnut hair. He was talking with some other boys as he loaded his backpack with books.

Peter stood up straight and hiked his Pikachu backpack up, then walked over to the group of boys.

“…no idea who Peter is. The handwriting is pretty childish, so it doesn’t make sense,” Evan stated as Peter approached.

One of the other boys elbowed Evan and snickered, then gestured toward Peter. Peter ignored him. He was used to people staring because he was different.

“Hi, I’m Peter,” he said. “I hope you liked your valentine. I picked it because I know you like soccer.” Peter focused on saying every word clearly. He knew he wasn’t always easy to understand.

The black-haired boy who had elbowed Evan howled with laughter. “Your secret admirer is a retard!”

Peter’s heart sank at the cruel words. He should have known better than to expect such a popular boy to be his friend. “April Fool,” he said, then ran down the hallway to his bus, laughter echoing behind him.

Over the next few days, Peter’s normally sunny disposition turned cloudy. He felt stupid for reaching out to someone new. He wished he had never put that envelope into Evan’s locker. He even felt stupid for saying “April Fool”, his standby phrase for when he said or did something wrong. His parents and teachers tried reaching out to him to find out what was bothering him, but he was too embarrassed to tell them. He went right home after school instead of watching soccer practice. He was too afraid of being made fun of again.

Four days after Valentine’s Day, Peter entered his classroom and immediately encountered the new aide. “Good morning, Petey! Let’s turn that frown upside down!”

Peter scowled and clenched his hands into fists. “My name is Peter!” he shouted, then burst into tears. He flung himself onto the floor and sat with his head in his hands, sobbing. He hadn’t had a meltdown like this in years, but the stress from the valentine disaster had reached its boiling point.

The teacher ran over to Peter and sat next to him. “What’s wrong, Peter? Something’s clearly going on with you. If you tell us, maybe we can help.”

Peter sniffled and looked at her. He liked his teacher. She was always nice to him and treated him like an adult, but he didn’t think she’d understand. “She always calls me Petey, even though I tell her not to. She treats me like a kid. I’m not a kid. My name is Peter.”

The aide’s face turned bright red and she looked at the floor, shuffling her feet. “I’m so sorry, Peter. I didn’t realize I was treating you that way. I won’t do it anymore. I’m sorry I upset you so much.”

“Thank you, Elaine. Why don’t you see if anyone else needs a hand?” the teacher stated. The aide nodded and walked away. The teacher turned to face the distraught boy and placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I think there’s more that’s upsetting you, Peter. Did something happen? You can trust me. I hate seeing you so miserable. I want to help you.”

The teacher’s words brought a new wave of tears as Peter remembered the cruel words of the black-haired boy. She rubbed circles on his back until he inhaled, then let his breath out with a shudder.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mrs. Klein.” Peter sniffled and the teacher handed him a tissue.

“OK. Why don’t you spend a little time in the sensory room and rejoin class when you’re ready? I’ll fill you in later on what you missed.” Mrs. Klein smiled and rose from her seated position. “We all have rough days, Peter. Just let us know when you’re ready for us to help you get through this.”

Peter nodded and the teacher headed to the front of the classroom. He sat for several more minutes before standing and heading to the sensory section. The sensory room was an area next to the main classroom that contained a variety of items designed to be calming when individuals had meltdowns and needed a safe place to calm down. There was a CD player with several relaxation CDs to choose from. The lights were dimmed and there were several bins containing items such as stress balls, silly putty, and vibrating massagers.

Peter removed a red ball covered in plastic spikes from one of the clear plastic bins and squeezed it repeatedly. He found the rough texture soothing. He put a CD of ocean sounds into the player and flopped into a large, blue bean bag chair.

About a half hour later, Peter felt ready to rejoin his class. They were in the middle of a lesson on money skills, reviewing what the numbers on each paper bill meant and the difference between coins. Peter didn’t feel too bad about missing the lesson. He already felt confident in his money skills, so his attention wandered during the rest of the lesson.

His meltdown had helped relieve some of his frustration, but he didn’t know what to do to get past his hurt feelings. Maybe talking to someone wasn’t such a bad idea. He just wasn’t sure who.

Mrs. Klein passed out differing denominations of fake currency to her class, which looked very close to the real thing. She assigned each student a different amount to sort the bills and coins into. She and her classroom aides walked from desk to desk, assisting with the task as needed. As she approached Peter’s desk, she noted the correct pile of currency. Peter stared out the window and sighed.

The teacher crinkled her brow, wondering how to help him with whatever issue he was struggling with. She had known Peter for a long time. He had a lovely disposition, always thinking of others first. Whenever she had a bad day, she could count on Peter’s smile and kind heart to make her feel better. She wanted nothing more than to return the favor, but knew that it was pointless to push him. He would come to her when he was ready to talk.

“Nice job, Peter.” She was pleased to get a fleeting smile in return.

The transition from the money lesson to lunchtime went smoothly. The members of the class headed to their cubbies to retrieve their lunch bags, then to the kitchen/dining area next to the main classroom. They learned practical life skills such as cooking safety and how to wash dishes and load the dishwasher properly. It was one of the more enjoyable aspects of her job, the teacher thought as she watched the bustling activity.

Mrs. Klein turned toward the door, pausing her thoughts when she heard a soft knock. A handsome, chestnut-haired boy stood in the entryway, fiddling with a small paper object. He scanned the room before his gaze settled on the teacher, and he approached after she smiled and gestured for him to enter.

He shook her hand and introduced himself. “Hi. I’m Evan McAllister. Is there a student named Peter in your class?”

Mrs. Klein looked in the area of Peter’s cubby and frowned when she saw his eyes widen as he stared at the boy in front of her. He ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

She narrowed her eyes at Evan. “Why do you want to know?” Her first duty was to protect her students.

He held out the piece of paper he was holding. She noted the picture of the soccer player kicking the heart and turned it over. She immediately recognized the blocky printing, her teacher side proud that Peter had written the ‘r’ correctly.

“Peter loves Valentine’s Day. He hands them out to every member of the class. How did you get this?”

“He must have slipped it into my locker. I found it when I switched my books after lunch. At the end of the day, he came up to me and my friends to introduce himself.”

Mrs. Klein thought there must be more the story from the way the boy’s face flushed red, making the black eye he sported even more colorful. “Tell me what happened after that.”

Evan shuffled his feet. “Peter was so happy when he walked up to us. Then Brian started laughing and called him the ‘R’ word. The look on his face just about broke my heart, then he ran away. I would have looked for him sooner, but I was suspended for three days for fighting.”

“You fought with your friend?”

Evan nodded. “I know I could have handled it better, but I punched Brian in the face when I heard him say that name. I have a cousin with Down syndrome, and I won’t put up with anyone bullying them.”

“Peter’s been miserable all week but won’t talk about it. Let me go talk to him, and we’ll get this straightened out.”

Evan smiled. “Thanks.”

“Peter?”

He looked up when he heard the knock on the bathroom door, followed by his teacher’s voice.

“Go away!” he yelled.

“You have a visitor, Peter. I think you should hear what he has to say.”

Peter was torn between his trust of his teacher and fear of having his feelings hurt even more by the cute soccer player.

“It’s OK, Peter. Please come out.”

“Thanks for the valentine, Peter. I love it; it’s perfect.” The soccer player’s words were enough to convince Peter to leave the bathroom. He opened the door and peeked out. His teacher and Evan were standing outside the door, smiling.

“You like it? But I heard everyone laughing at me, and that mean boy called me a name.”

“I’m so sorry about that, Peter. I wasn’t laughing, and I let them know they were being ass—I mean, jerks.”

Peter frowned as he processed Evan’s words. “You really like it? I thought you hated it.” Peter’s features softened when he saw there was no meanness in the soccer player’s expression. “What happened to your eye?”

Evan raised a hand to the bruised flesh surrounding his right eye. “You ran away after Brian said those nasty things. I would have looked for you sooner, but I was suspended for fighting.”

Peter frowned. “Fighting is bad. You shouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I should have handled it differently, but I wasn’t going to put up with his crap.” He paused. “So why did you give me a valentine?”

“I wanted you to smile. And I think you’re cute.”

Evan smiled. “Wow, that’s so sweet! I have a boyfriend, but we can still be friends. How do you know me, though? We’ve never met.”

“I like to watch soccer practice before the bus leaves. I think you’re the best. I saw you kiss that boy with the glasses, so I knew there were other people like me.” Peter turned to his teacher. “Some boys like boys, Mrs. Klein. But you only talk about boys and girls. You should talk about both.”

The teacher stared at Peter, floored by the admission. She realized that Peter was much wiser than she gave him credit for. “You’re right, Peter. I’m sorry about that. I will talk about both in future lessons.”

“Hey, you should come my game on Saturday! I bet you’d love my cousin Jimmy, and I know Billy wants to meet you; he’s my boyfriend. We’ll go out for pizza afterwards.”

Peter grinned and waved his hands in the air wildly. Evan looked at the teacher, who laughed.

“Peter waves his hands when he’s happy.”

“I love pizza! Can we get it with sausage?” Peter looked at Evan hopefully.

“Of course! That’s my favorite, too.”

“Yay!” Peter yelled. He stood up and threw his arms around Evan. “I have a new friend!”

Peter’s parents wanted to meet Evan before allowing their son to spend an evening with him, so they invited him to dinner on Friday night. Peter loved helping his mother cook, and this meal was extra special, since it would be for his new friend. Peter chose one of his favorite meals as the menu: spaghetti and meatballs with cheesy garlic bread, and his favorite dessert—chocolate cake with vanilla frosting and sprinkles.

Peter started preparing dinner as soon as he arrived home from school on Friday. He broke two eggs into a bowl, making sure that no pieces of eggshell fell in. He whisked them with a fork, then poured the contents into a Pyrex bowl filled with a mixture of ground beef, veal, and pork along with ground black pepper, garlic powder, and seasoned breadcrumbs. He jumped up and down in place when his joy became too much to contain; he had learned not to wave his hands when cooking, otherwise food tended to go flying across the room. The next step was his favorite part of making meatballs or meatloaf.

He squished the concoction between his fingers, making sure that all the ingredients were incorporated together. He loved the feel of the cold meat and slimy eggs as he formed one giant meatball. It took him much longer than usual to create smaller meatballs and place them on the baking sheet in preparation for cooking. He wanted each meatball to form perfect spheres the same size. His mother placed the tray in the fridge as Peter washed his hands, then moved on to preparing the garlic bread and spaghetti sauce.

Evan arrived at exactly six o’clock, and Peter gave him a tour of the house, bouncing from room to room, occasionally waving his hands wildly. Evan smiled at Peter’s antics, which reminded him of his cousin, Jimmy. “I have the perfect nickname for you, Peter,” he said as they headed into the kitchen.

Peter frowned. “Nicknames aren’t nice. My name is Peter.”

“Calling people names isn’t nice. Friends give each other nicknames as terms of endearment. Billy calls me ‘Beckham’, after David Beckham. He’s a really hot soccer player.”

Peter giggled. “So what’s my nickname?”

Evan grinned. “Tigger, because you bounce when you’re happy.”

Peter hopped up and down and waved his hands wildly. “I love Winnie the Pooh! Tigger is my favorite!”

“Perfect! Tigger it is!”

Peter’s mother laughed. “I think you hit the nail on the head, Evan.”

Evan offered to help cook dinner; however, Peter insisted that since Evan was his guest he didn’t need to help. So the soccer player sat on a stool at the kitchen island and chatted with his new friend and Mrs. Taylor as they cooked the meal they had prepared earlier. He was impressed with Peter’s cooking skills, and told him so. Peter forgot that he wasn’t supposed to wave his hands in the kitchen, and turned bright red when spaghetti sauce flew in spatters around the kitchen from the wooden spoon in his hand.

“Oops!” he said. “April Fool!”

“Does that mean this was a joke?” Evan teased as he wiped sauce off his cheek.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” Peter’s eyes welled with tears. The last thing he wanted to do was drive his new friend away.

“Hey… it’s OK.” Evan licked his fingers. “It tastes really good!”

Peter giggled, relieved that Evan wasn’t angry.

“Besides, I should have expected it, Tigger.” He winked. “Next time I’ll be sure to bring my raincoat.”

Peter stared at Evan for a moment before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Understanding humor could be difficult for him at times, but the smile on Evan’s face told him the cute boy was just joking.

“Bring an umbrella, too!”

Mrs. Taylor left the kitchen to grab a tissue. She didn’t want her son and his new friend to see the tears of happiness streaming down her face.

Evan arranged for Billy and Jimmy to meet Peter in the parking lot of the soccer field prior to the game, since he needed to be in the locker room getting ready. Meeting the two boys alleviated some of Peter’s parents’ nervousness, especially after seeing the grins on their son’s and Jimmy’s faces when they met.

Peter flapped his hands in the air and hopped up and down when he saw Billy and Jimmy. Jimmy waved and walked right up to Peter.

“H…h…hi. M…m…my name is Jimmy.”

“I’m Peter, nice to meet you.” He held out his hand and Jimmy shook it, but didn’t let go.

“Hi, Peter, I’m Billy. Evan’s told me all about you. We got here early to make sure we got seats right in front. The guys are holding them for us.”

Peter was too excited to remember to say goodbye to his parents, as the trio headed to the bleachers. The warmth from Jimmy’s hand spread into Peter’s heart, and his smile remained plastered to his face as he was introduced to Evan and Billy’s other friends. Thankfully, Brian wasn’t one of them.

Peter and Jimmy cheered the loudest of all the people in the crowded stands whenever their team scored a goal. They both hopped up and down and waved their hands wildly when Evan scored a goal. “Yay, Beckham!” Peter yelled, producing laughter from everyone surrounding him.

Evan jogged over to them during the short break after the first half of the game ended. He gave Billy a quick peck on the lips, then smiled at Peter and Jimmy.

“I knew you and Jimmy would hit it off, Tigger,” he said, producing a giggle from Peter. He then turned to Billy. “I gotta go now. See ya later!” He waved as he jogged back toward the team.

Jimmy decided to take advantage of the lull in play to get to know the cute boy sitting next to him better. “Are you gay, too?” he asked.

Peter furrowed his brow. “What does that mean?”

“B…b…being gay me…me…means that you are a b…b…boy that likes other b…boys.”

Peter nodded. “I like other boys, so I guess that makes me gay.”

Jimmy grinned and drew Peter into a hug. “You’re just like me! We both have Down syndrome, and we’re both gay!”

Peter couldn’t remember ever being happier. His school’s team won the game. Evan and his friends relived the more exciting moments of the game over and over as they waited for their food to arrive at the restaurant. They had ordered wings and several different kinds of pizza─including sausage─along with a tray of mixed appetizers.

Billy and the soccer players tried to include Peter and Jimmy in the conversation, but it was clear to everyone present that the two young men were too occupied with getting to know each other to pay attention to the rest of the group.

An hour and a half later, Evan, Billy, Jimmy, and Peter headed to Evan’s car. Peter’s parents had given Evan permission to drive their son home after they finished eating. Peter and Jimmy sat next to each other in the back seat, holding hands.

Jimmy smiled and squeezed Peter’s hand. “Are you my boyfriend now?” he asked.

Peter waved his free hand. “Yes. Are you mine?”

Jimmy nodded. “I’m going to the Uplift Prom next month. Will you be my date?”

Uplift was a local organization that provided services to individuals with developmental disabilities. Their annual prom was always very well attended.

Peter bounced in his seat and waved his hands. “Yay! I’m going to the prom!”

Evan wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. He loved his cousin and was happy that he had found someone just like him. “Is that an April Fool, Tigger?” he asked, a teasing smile playing across his mouth.

“No!” Peter yelled. “That is definitely not an April Fool!”