<the Winston apartment in NY when Dally is about 6 or 7>

There's a knock on the door and Mrs. Winston goes to answer it. She finds a woman with a beck duffel bag.

"Dr. Jackson!" She exclaims. "Can't thank you enough for fitting my son into your busy schedule! Please! Come in!"

"Thank you ma'am. I'm always willing to help out a family in need." Dr. Jackson set her bag on the table and pulled out a clipboard and pen. "Now can you tell me what behaviors your son started exhibiting and when they started to occur.?"

Mrs. Winston thought for a moment. "Well, I guess I first started noticing some strange behavior in Dallas when he was about three; he wasn't responding to me calling him, he got very picky, and he would get upset very easy. I thought it was just normal; just a phase. I started thinking there might be something wrong when he turned five and he was still behaving like this, plus he wasn't talking very well; he'd run his words together and stop in the middle of words and make weird sounds. When we put him in kindergarten, he didn't do well. He'd get sent home early for throwing fits and hitting other students and screeching excessively, and he refused to use his words and he didn't have any friends. I asked my mom just to make sure this wasn't a phase. She said it wasn't and we needed to get him checked out. My husband denies there's anything wrong with Dallas. In fact, he only agreed to me getting this appointment because if he didn't, I wouldn't have sex with him until he let me get Dallas checked out."

Dr. Jackson wrote some important notes and nodded. "Okay. And can I see the boy?"

"Yes. He's in his room." Mrs. Winston said, leading the doctor to her son's bedroom.

They enter the room and find the child messing with Lincoln logs on his bed with a small bowl of broccoli next to him. He didn't seem to notice his mother and a stranger come into the room.

Dr. Jackson sat down beside him on the bed and softly placed her hand on the boy's arm. He gasped and jerked away from her, letting out a small whimper. Dr. Jackson smiled at him. "Hi, Dallas. I'm Kelli. Do you wanna put your toys away so we can chat?"

Dallas picked up one piece and held it up to Dr. Jackson. "Lee-laws." He said.

"I see that." Dr. Jackson said soothingly, reaching for the Lincoln log in Dallas' hand.

He jerked his hand away again and held the log to his chest. "My Lee-laws! MY Lee-laws!"

"Okay. Can you put them away now?" Dr. Jackson said softly.

Dallas jutted his bottom lip out in a pout. His blue eyes big and soft like a cow's.

Mrs. Winston stepped in with a small blue basket and placed it down next to her son.

Dallas saw the basket and immediately tore apart whatever he was building and put all the Lincoln logs in the basket then his mother took the basket and put it on a shelf.

Now that she had Dallas' full attention, she smiled and said, "hi Dallas. My name is Kelli."

Dallas hesitated before responding by waving and saying, "hi Kay."

Dr. Jackson reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a picture that was obviously of Dallas and his family at the beach. "Who's this?" She asked.

Dallas took the picture and munched on some broccoli before answering the question, "dis my fammy. Das my Da-ey am my Ma-ey am my buvver Aussin am my sissuh Ava-gay. Aussin am Ava-gay aw my Da-ey's kihs. Day're not Ma-ey's like I am. Day're bote goh-n up am on day're own now. Day don' lib wit us." Then he stuffed more broccoli into his tiny mouth.

Dr. Jackson nodded and tried to take the picture away from him, but he screeched and pinched her fingers. She then got a small trophy from the night stand and asked him about it.

"Das my tivah toh-fee. I pay tivah am I'm good at ih. I wan a kee payink till I geh to go to bae-bah am I'm in po-fess-oh-na am I geh my own cahd affer me."

The rest of the afternoon went sorta like this, but they played games too.

Later on, Dr. Jackson called Dallas' parents to the living room to talk to them. She had a serious face. "Mr. and Mrs. Winston, I've evaluated your son. Don't be scared or nervous or sad; he doesn't have to too bad. Just enough to make a difference in his daily life."

"What does he have?" Demanded Mrs. Winston, a million horrible situations running through her head at one time.

"Your son has a developmental disorder called autism." The doctor told them.

"NO!" Mr. Winston banged his fist against the coffee table. "My son's got NOTHIN wrong with him! He's perfectly normal!"

"Mr. Winston, calm down." Dr. Jackson said.

"Calm down?!?" Mr. Winston stood angrily. "CALM DOWN!?!?!?!?? You have the audacity to march in here and accuse my son of being a mentally retarded FREAK and you want me to CALM DOWN?!?!?!"

Dr. Jackson stood up in defense. "No, sir. I never said your son is a mentally retarded freak. He's a very smart boy. His brain just doesn't work normally. And he's not even that bad anyway."

The man growled and stomped across the room to where Dallas was coloring at the kitchen table and grabbed the boy by the arm and yanked him out of the seat. Dallas fought to get away and screamed and cried and bit at his father. "Heh me! HEH ME!" He shrieked.

"No! Stop! You're hurting him!" Mrs. Winston cried.

"MY BOY IS PERFECTLY NORMAL!!!!! I'LL PROVE IT TO YOU!" Mr. Winston shouted, dragging Dallas out of the apartment before either of the women could do anything about it.

The last thing they heard before the door slammed shut was Dallas scream, "DA-EY NOOOOOOOOO!"