Shot unarmed outside his car by an officer, the death of Izzy's father came as a shock to her already grieving family, who had just about had enough heartache for two lifetimes.

I don't attend the funeral. Beth would have attended the funeral. But I think she's secretly too invested to watch Izzy fall into that kind of misery. Also, Izzy doesn't want her to attend.

Despite my ineptitude at being a good friend, at least where social situations are concerned, Izzy and I grow closer after that.

Izzy has an understanding about her that allows her to look past my faults and appreciate my dry sense of humor. We mostly like to observe together, ponder why the people in our lives do the things they do. Talk only about the things that matter.

We also share a fondness for the outdoors. The Catholic private school next to my condo has a really nice field with flowers and the like planted in the center of the track course and religious statues scattered all around. We wonder what it would be like to afford to go to a private school. We walk the course in late evening, when everyone has gone home, and talk for hours about stuff I actually have an opinion about, like Izzy's boyfriend, or my mom. Izzy and Beth both get pretty serious with boyfriends that hate each other's guts.

Work life also becomes a colorful concoction of social interaction. My roller-coaster is still going up, or so I think.

The whole crew is doing a secret santa, and Kyler invites me to go to the mall with him to pick out gifts. I enthusiastically accept.

Kyler has this friend. His name is Cas. No, not the angel from Supernatural. Quite the opposite.

He's tall and gangly with bleach blonde hair and intense eyes that hide behind his all too constant smile and a mocking laugh.

"You're just about the worst gift giver I've ever met," Cas informs Kyler.

But Kyler is adamant. He's going to get Jodi a gift card. "You can never go wrong with a gift card," he says.

"Dude, why are we even at the mall, then, if you're just getting a gift card?" Cas scoffs. "Might as well go to Walmart and get a pre-paid visa."

But Kyler continues forward as though he didn't hear.

"Jodi's been hinting all week that she loves Hot Topic," I pitch in. "She wears those skull earrings, like, every day at work."

"Hallmark idea," Kyler agrees, still staring forward where we pace past store after store. I think I catch Cas rolling his eyes.

There's a Pikachu beanie at Hot Topic that I think Lou might enjoy, so I buy that for her secret santa gift.

Kyler, Cas and I go to Kyler's favorite Mexican restaurant after that. Kyler frequents the restaurant with his parents and I think he must have shared many a positive experience with them if he wants to go back there with us. I can understand the appeal. The food is cooked with a care that few commercialized restaurants share anymore--it's a family restaurant, afterall. There's a relaxed atmosphere: wide booths, murals on the walls, a greeter in a nice uniform (clearly a manager who would rather present himself to the customers than hide himself in an office) and just about the best house made chips and salsa you will ever try.

Kyler gets the same thing every time, he informs us, and I can also understand why this is. I order what he orders.
"I'm glad we could do this," Kyler tells us.

"You're a good buddy of mine, you know that," Cas says.

I nod my agreement.

"I have a hard time making friends," Kyler continues.

"Can't imagine why," Cas says.

"I'm on the Autism spectrum," Kyler decides to tell us. "Very mild, just mild Aspergers," he adds quickly as though amending his first statement.

"That's alright, buddy," Cas says.

"I haven't told anyone else at work." He seems concerned about this.

"None of their business," I agree. "Doesn't make a difference to your work abilities."

"Doesn't make a difference either way," Cas says.

I go home and look up Aspergers. I see phrases like "increasing frequency," and "behavioral reinforcement."

I take an AQ test and score a 38. This is on my mind at the secret santa party which is held before the store opens.

Ragina and Marta make hot tamales. Kyler and I eat together. Lou is ecstatic about the prospect of matching her new hat with her Pikachu gloves and sweater.

Ragina approaches me after everyone has either gone home or gone behind the counter.

"Michigan, you want to be a manager?"

I nod. I told Pete, the GM, earlier that week that I was interested in management.

Ragina nods. "We'll make it happen."

I can feel my brows lighten. Management is a prospect that terrifies me: it would require a lot more of me than ever before. It would require I didn't just show up, but that I ask things of crew members and mean it: confidence; team building; anything to keep that time down. And just talking to people is daunting for me. But Ragina thinks I can do it.

Cas asks me on a date just before the holidays. We go to the same Mexican restaurant we frequent with Kyler because I want my regular order. After we're seated, I share with him my worries.

"I'm sure you'll get the position if you want it." I notice that he doesn't tell me I'd do well, just that I'd probably get the position.

"Why wouldn't I want it?" I ask.

"You tell me."

I tell him about the AQ test. His normally jovial attitude suddenly changes and he gets angry.

"Everyone thinks they have one thing wrong with them or another," he growls. "You don't have a disability," he asserts boldly, "and neither does Kyler."

"You're right," I agree hesitantly. Maybe because I don't think Aspergers is just a disability.