𝖠𝖣𝖠𝖯𝖳𝖠𝖡𝖫𝖤 𝖥𝖠𝖬𝖨𝖫𝖸
(𝖡𝗒 𝖭𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗈𝖥𝖺𝖻𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌) Pt. 5
As they pack the last of their
things, Plankton can't help but
wonder what the science fair
will be like. So many people,
so many sounds, so much to
process. It's a minefield of
overstimulation, but for Chip,
he's gonna try.
Bags in the trunk, Karen
gets in the driver's seat
as Plankton and Chip sit
in the back together.
"You okay, Dad?" Chip asks,
his voice gentle. Plankton
nods, his antennae still as
the car starts with a purr.
After leaving the driveway
Chip notices his dad's
humming to himself, a soft,
steady rhythm. Plankton's
hands are in his lap,
fidgeting slightly as he
focuses on the hum.
"What are you doing?"
Chip asks, his curiosity
getting the better of him.
Plankton jumps in his seat,
antennae shooting up. "I'm...
uh...just...thinking?" He's
flabbergasted that his son
has caught him stimming.
He's still trying to process
the idea that his son now
knows his deepest, most
personal secret.
Chip's eyes widen.
"Thinking?" He
repeats. "With a so-"
"Chip," Karen interrupts.
She knows Plankton's
stimming, which he never
likes to speak of. Yet she
also knew Chip's trying to
understand, and decided
it's time to explain.
"Your dad's humming is a
stim," she says gently,
keeping her eyes on the
road ahead. "It's something
some autistic folks do to
help manage their sensory
input or self-soothe."
Chip nods, filing away the
new information. "Oh," he says,
as Plankton freezes. "So Dad,
is that why you sometimes
do that spinning thing with
your fing--"
"Chip!" Plankton
snaps, his voice
harsher than he
intends. So Karen
jumps in.
"Sweetie," she says,
turning in the
passenger seat to
face her son, "Dad's
stims are private.
They're like his
personal way of
taking a deep breath
when things get too
much. He doesn't do
it for anyone else,
just for himself. And
if he's alright with
sharing them with us,
that's his choice. But
it's important we
respect his privacy."
Plankton's gaze
meets hers in the
rearview mirror,
gratitude in his
eye, hands stilling
as Karen continued.
"And unless he
says so, it's not for
us to bring up or
comment on them,"
she explains to Chip.
"So your dad hums,
or flaps his arms, or
rocks his body, even
muttering to himself.
They're all his ways of
stimming, and aren't
to be interrupted or
discussed unless he
initiates it. If he seems
distressed, you can ask if
he needs anything, but
otherwise, just be there
for him."
Chip nods, his
face a picture of
concentration. "Ok,
Mom," he says.
"But could, can I
tr-" "NO!" Plankton's
voice cuts through
the car, sharp
and sudden.
He turns to face
his son, his eye
blazing. "I don't
want you staring at
or making fun
of me!"
Karen's eyes meet
Plankton's in the
mirror, filled with
a mix of love and
frustration. She knew
this outburst is rooted in
fear and vulnerability.
"Chip wasn't trying to,
Plankton," she says.
Chip shrinks back, his
face reddening. "I'm so
sorry," he stammers.
Plankton's face softens,
his antennae drooping.
"I know," he murmurs.
"It's just...it's hard."
Karen nods. "So the
science fair is gonna
be tomorrow, so the
hotel we're going to
tonight has reserved
the contestants and
their families rooms!
So the three of us are
gonna have to share
the hotel room."
Plankton's antennae
twitch. "And, Dad,"
Chip says, his voice
full of excitement. "It's
going to be so cool!
There'll be so many
science lovers like us!"
Plankton nods, trying
to mirror his son's
enthusiasm, but inside
he's panicking. So many
people, so many
potential triggers. But
he can't let Chip see
his fear. He takes a
deep breath, his hand
against his own seat
in a stim. "Yea."
The car ride is
quiet for a while,
and Plankton
finds himself
getting drowsy.
He fights the urge
to close his eye.
He knows if he
dozes off, he'd be
embarrassed, and he
can't let that happen
now, not with Chip
watching him so
closely. He focuses
on the scenery
passing by, the
rhythm of the
car's tires on the
road, anything to
keep himself awake.
But it's a losing
battle. His eyelid
keeps drooping, his
brain begging for
rest. He starts
counting the yellow
lines on the road,
then switches to red
cars, but the
monotony of it all
just makes him
sleepier. His head
nods, and he jolts
awake with a
start, his heart
racing for a
moment. Chip
glances at his
father. "You okay,
Dad?"
Plankton nods,
his antennae
twitching with
the effort to stay
awake. "Fine, buddy,"
he says. But his
body feels heavy,
like he's sinking into
the car seat. He
decides to try
distraction. "So, tell
me more about your
science fair schedule,"
he asks, hoping that
his son's excitement
will keep him alert.
Chip's face lights
up. "Well, tomorrow
we've got the setup
in the morning, then
the judging starts
right after lunch."
He rattles off the
various categories and
his predictions for
each, his voice rising
and falling with
enthusiasm. Plankton
nods along, trying to
keep up with the
flurry of information.
But his eyelid starts
drooping again.
"And then there's the
final round!" Chip says,
his voice carrying
on despite Plankton's
fading attention. "I've got
my experiment all set up
by myse—"
Plankton's snore cuts
his son off mid-sentence
as his head lolls, his
mouth slightly open, to
Chip's shoulder.
Chip looks at Karen
in the front seat, her
eyes glancing back at
them in the mirror with
a knowing smile. "It
looks like he's really
tired," she says, keeping
her voice low. "It's
okay to let him sleep."
Chip nods, feeling a
wave of protectiveness
over his father. He
chuckles, taking a selfie
with Plankton's sleeping
face on his phone. He
forwards the selfie to
Karen's phone. She tries
not to giggle. "Oh, Chip,"
she smiles, "Dad's not
gonna take that too
kindly when he wakes up."