She was young, possibly six or maybe seven years old. Her dark brown hair was in piggy tails, and tied back in pretty pink bobbles in the shape of flowers. Her eyes were wide and bright blue in colour, seeming to absorb everything around her. She wore a pretty pink summer dress that fell to her knees, her legs were bare, and she wore a pair of black shoes, buckled up with Velcro. I smiled as she came running up to me, leaning down to her level so that she could talk to me on her level, like she did every day. I knew more about her than she knew of herself, but I was lucky today. The girl in pink was autistic. I remember the few months ago, when she lacked speech, and often bit, pinched and hit people to get the attention she needed. In the space of a few months, she had started talking. No one knew where from or how. It didn't 'cure' her though. I knew her perception of the world would always be distorted. I worked with children from age three to sixteen who had autism, and my heart broke for each one. This girl in particular had chosen a good day to come and talk to me again.

"Miss Gemma! Miss Gemma! I'm Supergirl!" She giggled, copying the way I had tried to come down to her level, she knelt down onto her knees, meaning I had to look down at her to talk. I sighed, smiling still.

"Supergirl? Can you fly?" She laughed again, shaking her head slowly as I tilted my head, ever curious about what she had to say. Sadly, it was probably something she had picked up on T.V I thought, as imagination in a person with autism was extremely rare.

"People can't fly. No I have super powers!" With that she smiled up at me, just smiling. Her hands were still by her sides, and her eyes stared at mine. My lips pursed, and I could feel my heart on the verge of splitting once again.

"What are your super powers?" I asked plainly, trying to keep conversation simple. I'd been working with them too long to think that they would comprehend any kind of language I would use with any other six or seven year old.

"I can count." You know when someone says something, and you know you shouldn't laugh, but you have to try your hardest not to? I hated being in that situation with any of the children at school.

"How high can you count?" I asked, knowing that a 'normal' child in mainstream might be able to count to about a hundred by her age.

She stared up at me for a while, before standing up and reaching and arm in the air ‘To here.”

I coughed hard into a balled fist, and tried again "How many numbers can you count?" wondering how else that could be interpreted.

"Well, Miss Jelly counts up to ten in class, but I tried and I can count to lots of hundreds." I smiled, and wondered if she was telling the honest truth. I knew Miss Jellicoe, her class teacher would have noticed if she could.

"Can you count for me now?" Shaking her head, she placed a hand on my knee, leaning over so that her head was almost against mine.

"I have to save my super powers, and save the world." Just as she finished a bell rang above us, her hands shot to her ears and she stood up again, walking back to her classroom. The bell meant the start of lunchtime, and it was her turn to be first in line today.