The story so far:
"Julio, what is going on here?" Ondrea asked. She and Julio were sitting on the porch in the back of the Martin-Willis-Wallace-Hernandez home (Ondrea sometimes referred to that sometimes) on a beautiful Tuesday in April.
Julio held Ondrea really close. "You'll see, Ondrea." He was grinning from ear to ear. "I don't want you to worry about nothing."
Ondrea smiled. "I can tell you're Dominican. You do talk kind of crazy!"
Julio hooted with laughter. He couldn't help it. "Oh, am I? I thought I was African-American!"
Ondrea still had a smile on her face. She liked how Julio had a great sense of humor. Well, it was no wonder--Ondrea had a great sense of humor herself, and that was one of the things that Julio liked about her.
"Desiree wanted to know if you wrote anything last night, Ondreina," Julio said, tickling the top of Ondrea's right hand with his left index finger. He definitely was interested in what Ondrea wrote, especially when it came to poetry, African-American, and Dominican affairs.
Ondrea took a moment to think. Then she said yes she did write a poem about people accepting autism whether they liked it or not. She felt that she had to write that, because she felt that people didn't get the concept of what autism really was.
Julio was really interested about that. "Yeah, that's a pretty deep poem you wrote, Ondreina. I know why you wrote that. It was because you experienced something like that."
"Yes, I did, but I really don't want to talk about it," Ondrea said with a sad look.
Julio grinned. "I know about it. Desiree told me. She told me that Raquelle told her what happened with you and Adela. I'm very proud of you, Ondreina. I know it's not easy speaking your mind to people, but you have to."
Ondrea thanked him.
Moments later, Julio got up and told Ondrea that he'd be right back.
"Where are you going, amor?" asked Ondrea
Julio had a sly grin on his face. "You'll see!"
To be continued.