Prologue

Echo's POV

It was a sunny, spring day. I could see cherry blossoms outside my window, and hear birds singing songs on their branches. I hugged Magnolia-the fuchsia stuffed iguana that constituites my first Christmas present. The softness of her velvet scales comforts me as I stared out the window, watching the human couple walk into the building.

They had hidden me away again. The nun in charge of taking care of me, Sister Annette, tried to comfort me, telling me that they simply didn't think me a good fit for the family. I can't fault Sister Annette-she has been kind to me during my stay here-but I know better. Many of the kids don't end up being a good fit for the other families that come here, yet I'm the only one who the headmistress wants locked away when the families come to visit. And all because of a word on a piece of paper somewhere in her office.

Autism. I still don't quite know what it means. All I know is that it's the reason I enjoy meticulous order, why I can't stand the clamour and congestion of the main play area, why I always trip over my feet when we play soccer, and why I always hum, hands clapped over my ears, and rock back and forth to calm down. It's why I can hear the flower petals brushing up against each other in the wind-even though I'm behind glass-and why my cells explode in pain every time I am hugged or someone holds my hand too tight. It's why I've never looked a single nun or kid in the eye whenever I talk to them, and why I prefer not to. More importantly, it's why, when I first arrived here, I could not communicate my own needs-I could only repeat the words of the other nuns and kids around me. I still don't remember what my parents named me-although I remember having parents, once-but I do remember the name the other kids and even some of the nuns started to call me: Echo. Echo I was named, and Echo I became.

I was interrupted from my reflective reverie by the sound of my stomach growling like a defensive puppy, reminding me that on a normal day, 12:30 meant lunchtime. Knowing the other nuns would be busy with the kids who would GET to be seen, I decided to go down to the kitchen and make myself a peanut butter and honey sandwich. I didn't figure it would be that hard-I had seen the nuns do it on multiple occasions, and it seemed like an easy task. Two slices on the counter, south side up, peanut butter on one, honey on the other, place the peanut butter on top and cut it in half. I was running through this sequence over in my head when I heard a sharp voice call my name: "ECHO!"

Uh oh, I thought to myself as the Headmistress approached me, her ice blue eyes aflame with anger. "What do you think you're doing outside of your room?" She said in her shrill voice-the voice that she knew made my ears feel like they were going to break. From across the room, Sister Annette looked at me, her chocolate eyes filled with both fear and sympathy. Poor Sister Annette.

I tried to keep myself from breaking down in front of the headmistress. Tears wouldn't get me anywhere. "12:30 is lunchtime." I said calmly, correcting my posture so that she could hear me. "Tuesdays I have a peanut butter and honey sandwich."

Bewilderment filled her eyes for a moment, replaced by understanding mixed with annoyance. She then beckoned for Sister Annette. "Go make Echo her sandwich while I escort her back to her room." She said, in a tone that almost seemed filled with contempt. Why, I did not know. She then looked down at me before adding, in that same tone, "And what do you say to Sister Annette for making you your sandwich?"

I then bent myself down in the best curtsey I could muster. "Thank you, Sister Annette." I added, in that sickly sweet tone my ears had hated, but my mouth and brain had learned to master. The Headmistress simply sniffed. "Quite right." She almost snarled. "Now come with me." She was just about to grab me by the hand-which was always hurtful-when a soft, feminine voice asked, in the kindest tone I had heard all day "And who are you, dearest?"

The headmistress turned around, her feathered face all but drained of colour, the exact same time I did. It was the exact same couple that had droven in earlier today, only now, I was seeing them up close. The mom had wonderous green eyes and honey brown hair that ended at her shoulders, and she was wearing an egg shell blue dress bedecked with flowers. It was the father, however, that fascinated me: he had short brown hair, steel gray eyes, and the bushiest moustache I had ever seen. He wore a navy blue suit bedecked with pins, underneath which was a powder blue shirt and a black tie.

I straightened myself up. "Everyone calls me Echo." I said, relishing their attention. "I like pink and green and iguanas!"

The headmistress glared at me, then faced the parents. "Echo here was dropped here by her parents. Quite frankly, I can't say I blame them; she's quite a handful, and we can't have her around the other kids because she'll-"

""We'll take her!" The father boomed. The headmistress' jaw dropped to the floor-which I would've laughed at if I wasn't busy covering my ears. "S-sir", she stammered, "with all due respect, she is loud, disrespectful, and very picky, not to mention the fact that she's-"

"Perfect!" The father finished. "She's just the girl we'd been looking for." The mother then bent down and took my hands-gently enough that it didn't hurt. "What do you say, Echo?" The mother said, her voice soft as cherry blossom petals. "You wanna be a part of our family?"

I could hear several of the children raise their voice in protest "What? HER?" "No fair!" "Why does the retard get to go and we don't?" I didn't care; I was going to have a home, a family, a mom and dad! I wanted to scream in happiness, but remembered my manners. "Yes please."

It had been nearly a month since the Charters adopted me. Since then, I had learned how to clean my room, make my bed, and wash myself. I had even learned how to make my own sandwich! Life there was delightful... But there was still one problem: they had a next door neighbour who played the drums, and the noise absolutely HURT.

Tonight was one such night. "MAKE IT STOP!" I screamed, tears running down my face. Ava-my mother-had given me Magnolia to calm me down, and I was clinging onto her for dear life while I curled into a ball on my bed. All of a sudden, the oppressive percussion came to a halt, followed by yelling on both sides. I could actually hear what they were saying-insults along with several words I wasn't allowed to say-before my father Jonathan stormed out of the house next door and returned to my room. "I'll stay with her." My father whispered before kissing my mother on the cheek. My mother then left the room, closing the door shut behind her, before my father turned to me.

"Have you always heard things like this?" My father asked. I didn't quite know what he meant by that question, so I replied the best way I could: "I hear everything."

My father seemed stunned, and I was worried he was going to get mad at me like the headmistress did. Instead, however, he asked me something else: "What can you hear right now?"

I then got up on my knees, wiped the tears from my face, and concentrated as best I could, pricking my ears as I did so. Then I replied: "I can hear mom getting into bed, and someone across the street is taking out their trash. I hear our neighbour grumbling and swearing, and there's a kid next door to him playing on the computer." For a moment, my father stood very quietly, and his face was unreadable. He then stood up. "Come with me, Echo." He said, extending his hand. "I want to show you something." I took it and followed him downstairs.

"This is everything I have accomplished in my time as a commander." He said, as I looked at picture upon picture of him in combat, or of him smiling, with a group of men, in front of a huge plane. My lilac eyes were wide with disbelief. This is what Dad did? No wonder he was away so often.

He then turned to me. "Echo," he began, "I had a feeling about you the moment I met you; a feeling that you could become something great. You have an incredible mind, the type of mind needed in my line of work. Others may see that mind-and your hearing-as weaknesses, but I see them as gifts that can be turned into strengths with proper guidance and faith." His eyes were boring down at me, and for the first time, I felt a raw energy surge within me. "Are you ready to begin?"

I looked straight up at him, for perhaps the first time in my life. Suddenly autism didn't seem like a roadblock anymore. "Yes sir."