𝖬𝖸 𝖠𝖴𝖳𝖨𝖲𝖳𝖨𝖢 𝖣𝖠𝖣
Pt. 16
by NeuroFabulous
The next morning,
Karen goes into
Chip's bedroom to
wake him up for
the long drive to
Hanna's. She gently
shakes his shoulder.
"Chip," she whispers.
Chip's eyes open. He sat
up, rubbing his eyes. "Mom?"
Karen smiles at him. "It's
time to get ready," she says.
"We're going to Hanna's."
The excitement of the
road trip fills him. He
follows Karen to Plankton's
bed, so they can wake him
up for the trip. He's still
asleep, his antennae
twitching. Chip then
hears his voice. "Plunk,"
he says in his sleep.
Chip's eyes widen, his
heart racing. He's never
heard his dad talk in his
sleep before. He leans in
closer, his curiosity piqued.
"Po," Plankton says.
Karen's heard this before.
It's Plankton's way of
navigating his thoughts
when he's asleep, a
verbal stim of sorts.
"What is he saying?"
Chip whispers, his voice
filled with wonder.
Karen smiles softly. "It's just
his brain processing,"
she says. "Sometimes,
he talks in his sleep."
Chip's eyes are wide
with curiosity. She smiles
gently. "It's just his brain
working through the day,"
she says. "It's part of
his autism."
They watch as Plankton's
mouth moves, his antennae
twitching slightly. "Bom,"
he murmurs. Chip leans in,
his heart racing. "What's he
saying?" he whispers.
Karen smiles softly. "It's
just his way of dreaming
aloud," she explains. "It's
his brain working through
things, like a verbal
stim." Chip nods, his eyes
never leaving his dad's
face. "How do we wake
him up, for our trip?"
"Gently," Karen whispers,
her hand moving to Plankton's
shoulder. She gives it a
soft shake. "Honey," she
says. "It's time to wake up."
Plankton's antennae twitch,
his eye opening. "What?"
he mumbles. "Oh, the trip."
He sits up, his body
stiff. Chip watches, his
heart heavy with the
knowledge of the night
before. "You ok, Dad?"
he asks, his voice tentative.
Plankton nods, his antennae
twitching. "I'm ok," he says.
"Just tired." Karen nods.
Karen drives as Chip
and Plankton sit in
the car's back seat.
The car is quiet, the
hum of the engine the only
sound. Chip's eyes flick
to the sensory box by
his feet, filled with
items to help Plankton
cope on their journey.
He's learned that his
dad's stims are not just
quirks, but tools.
Plankton sits stiffly,
his antennae twitching.
Karen's voice floats back,
soothing as they drive.
"It'll be fun," she says.
Chip looks out the window,
his thoughts on his dad.
He's seen the pain in his
eye, the struggle to fit
in a world that often
doesn't get it. Plankton's
autism is a part of him,
like his love for science
and his tiny size.
The car rolls on, the scenery
changing outside. Plankton's
body starts to relax more.
Chip watches, his heart
full of love and a newfound
respect for his father's
strength.
Karen notices Plankton's
eye drooping and his antennae
slowing their twitching. She
knows the signs; he's getting
tired. "Dad," Chip whispers.
"You okay?" Plankton nods.
But his nod is more of a
reflex than an answer. His
head tips back, and, he's
asleep, his snores light
but steady. Chip's eyes widen
slightly, looking to Karen
for guidance. She smiles.
Karen glances in the
rearview mirror, a smile
ghosting her lips. "He's
asleep, Chip," she says.
"It's ok, it happens. Some
people tend to doze off
easily in cars."
Chip nods, his eyes on
his dad. Plankton's snores
are a comforting sound,
a sign that he's at ease.
But Chip's mind is still
racing. He looks at the
sensory box again, his
thoughts on the night's
confrontation. He knows
his dad's boundaries now,
yet the desire to connect
remains. He makes a silent
promise to himself to be
more respectful, more
understanding.
That evening, they finally
arrive at Hanna's. Hanna
is out front as Karen parks
in her driveway.
"Welcome, welcome!" she says,
her eyes wide with excitement.
Chip waves. Plankton is still
asleep in his seat. Karen smiled
as Hanna walks up to meet her
friend's family. She leans into
Karen's car. "Hi," Hanna says,
smiling. But Plankton doesn't
stir. His antennae twitch, but
his eye stays closed. "He's out
cold," Karen laughs.
Karen opens the door,
carefully unbuckling
Plankton's seatbelt.
His body moves
slightly as he stirs.
"Honey," she whispers,
shaking his shoulder gently.
"We're here." Plankton's
eye opens, blinking sleepily.
He looks around, his antennae
twitching as he realizes, to
his horror, that he fell
asleep in the car. "Oh,"
he mumbles, his voice
slightly embarrassed.
Hanna's eyes light up when
she sees him. "Plankton!"
she exclaims. "And Chip
right? Oh it's so nice to
finally meet you!"
But Plankton's antennae
quiver with anxiety. New
people, new place, new
sounds, new smells. "Hi,"
he says.
Chip watches his dad
carefully, aware of his
sensory sensitivities. He
can see the tension in
his dad's shoulders as he
greets Hanna.
"Come on in," Hanna says,
smiling widely. "Make
yourselves at home." So they
get all their belongings and
follow her to the guest room.
Plankton's antennae twitch
constantly as they enter the
unfamiliar house. He clutches
his travel bag tightly, feeling
the weight of his sensory
tools within.
Hanna's house is a cacophony
of colors and patterns. Chip's
eyes wander, taking in the
new sights, while Plankton's
eye darts around the guest
room.
"This is where you'll be
staying," Hanna says, her voice
cheerful. "Make yourselves at
home." Chip sets his bag
down, but Plankton remains
frozen, his antennae
twitching rapidly.
He looks around the room,
his eye taking in the unfamiliar
surroundings. Karen notices
his discomfort and gives him
a reassuring smile. "Why
don't you sit down, Plankton?"
she suggests.
Plankton nods, his antennae
twitching as he sits on the
edge of the bed.
Hanna's house is a sensory
overload. The lights are
bright, the patterns on the
walls are overwhelming, and
the smell of potpourri
permeates the air. Chip's eyes
adjust, but Plankton's eye
squints, his stomach churning.
Karen notices his distress
and takes his hand. But he's
determined to stay, his jaw
clenched.
"We're going to have fun,
aren't we?" Hanna says, her
voice bright. Plankton nods,
his antennae still.
Chip can see his dad's
discomfort, the way he's
fidgeting with his travel
box. Hanna doesn't seem
to notice, her attention
on unpacking their bags.
He approaches Plankton,
his heart full of worry.
"Dad," he says gently, "are you
ok?" Plankton's antennae
twitch, and he nods, but his
body language says otherwise.
Chip sits down beside him,
his hand hovering over
his dad's travel box. "Can
I... help you find something?"
Plankton's eye meets his, and
for a moment, there's a flicker
of something that might be
gratitude. "No," he says,
his voice firm. "This is mine."
Chip nods, understanding
dawning. "Okay," he says.
"But if you need anything,
I'm here." Plankton's antennae
quiver, and he nods again.
Karen smiles.
Hanna's a burst of
energy, her voice
high and loud. "Oh, I
am so excited!" she
says. Plankton's antennae
twitch rapidly, trying to
keep up with the barrage of
sensory information.
Hanna doesn't seem to
notice, her excitement
filling the room.
Chip watches his dad
carefully, his heart
breaking at the sight of
his discomfort. He
understands now, the
importance of patience
and empathy. He looks at
his mom, who nods
knowingly.
Hanna, however, was not
aware of this. She was
overly affectionate and
quite loud.
"Oh, Plankton, I've heard
so much about you!" Hanna
gushed, leaning in and
nudging him with an elbow.
Plankton's antennae shoot
straight up. The sudden
contact is like a bolt of
lightning to his senses. He
flinches, despite trying to
keep his condition from
Hanna, whose expression
barely falters.
Chip watches, his eyes
flicking between Hanna and
his dad. He can see
Plankton's discomfort, his
body language screaming
for space. He opens his
mouth to say something, but
Karen's look stops him. She
knows Plankton better
than anyone else, and she can
see the tightrope he's
walking.
Plankton's antennae twitch.
He clutches his travel
box closer, his hand
shaking slightly. Chip
wants to reach out, but
his dad's words from the
night before echo in his
mind. "Stims are personal,"
he'd said. "You can't just
take them away."
Instead, Chip watches his
dad, his heart pounding. He's
learned so much, but there's
still so much to know. Hanna's
laughter fills the room,
yet Plankton's face is a
picture of pain. But Hanna's
on a roll.
"So, Plankton," Hanna says,
clapping her hands. "What
do you like to do for fun?"
Plankton's antennae quiver.
"Huh? I enjoy... science," he
says, his voice tight.
Karen and Chip exchange
a look. Hanna's energy is
high, her words tumbling out
faster than they can keep
up with. Plankton's eye
flits around the room,
his antennae flicking rapidly.
"Oh, science; now that's just
wonderful!" Hanna exclaims,
her hand now reaching out to
Plankton's shoulder for a
squeeze.
The touch is too much.
Plankton flinches, his
body tensing. Hanna's hand
freezes mid-air, her smile
dropping. "Don't be shy,"
she says, pulling him into
a hug. He's stiff in her arms,
his antennae pressed
against her shoulder. His face
twists in pain, and he
lets out a low moan. Hanna,
who doesn't understand, then
cackles with laughter.
But Plankton's
overwhelmed, and
his mind is racing.
The touch, the sound,
the smell, it's all too
much. He feels trapped,
his antennae shooting
up. His eye widens,
his body stiffening.
"Mom, I don't think
Dad's okay," Chip says,
his voice low. Karen's
eyes dart to Plankton,
her face a mask of
concern. She nods,
but it's too late.
Plankton's body goes
rigid in Hanna's embrace,
his antennae shooting up.
His eye widens, and
his breathing becomes
quick, shallow gasps. Karen
knows what's happening.
She's seen it before.
"Hanna, please," she says,
her voice firm. Hanna
pulls back, her smile
fading. "What's wrong?"
she asks, her eyes
filled with concern. But
Plankton's body can't take
it anymore.