The midday sun is bright, reflecting off the white stones in the front yard. JoJo, a nickname her grandmother gave her, slowly moves the broom back and forth. The movement looks like how someone would sweep if they were mimicking the motion but didn't understand the actual purpose. I glance down: The bristles are lifted 6 inches off the ground.
It's a Saturday morning in May, and soon the Harris family will get ready for swim practice. But for now, JoJo and her sister, Jayanna, who's just a couple of years older, are like most other teenagers, begrudgingly helping with weekend chores.
"Hi," I say quietly to JoJo, walking up the driveway toward her. "I'm Kate; it's nice to meet you."
JoJo does not look up, does not respond. In the hours before my arrival, Mary Harris, JoJo's mom, encouraged me to meet them at the house so they can work on JoJo's social interactions.
I observe JoJo. She is athletic: tall, with broad shoulders. Her loose brown hair has fallen across her face, a natural veil behind which she seems to be hiding. She is wearing a white T-shirt with characters from Mario Kart, and I do a mental fist pump. I know that video game! I have found common ground with a 12-year-old!
"Cool shirt," I say, pointing down. Her eyes follow my gesture, but she says nothing. She keeps sweeping, or at least making the motion, and I walk past and through the open front door. Mary has been watching our interaction, and she calls outside to tell JoJo she can move on to the next chore.
Inside their home, every corner of the downstairs is filled, most with boxes. The walls are covered with mementos from a life by the beach. The Marshall Islands flag -- an orange and white shooting stripe across a background of blue -- hangs between the kitchen and living room. Mary gestures around the house. "Truth is, we're still unpacking," she says, and it feels vaguely like an apology.
\For the Harris family, Las Vegas is where they live. But it is not -- and never will be -- home. They come from the Marshall Islands, a tiny chain of volcanic islands between Hawaii and the Philippines. And that's where JoJo's nickname comes from: jojo means flying fish. The specific island from which their family hails is Ebeye, and it's one of the most densely populated areas in the world, famous for serving as a battleground for two warring nations, the U.S. and Japan. In the 20 years immediately after World War II, during the Cold War, the U.S. government tested 67 nuclear weapons near the Marshall Islands, including the 15-megaton Castle Bravo in 1954.
The islands are also famous for something else: their beautiful water.
This is one reason I am in Las Vegas, because of that beautiful water. Because from the time JoJo Harris was a baby, she would jump into that crystal-blue ocean, or the pool on the military base in which her older brother, Giordan, first started swimming. She'd jump in even if fully clothed. She really just preferred being in water.
The water, and what it did for JoJo, became even more important when Mary started to realize something was different about her youngest. She wasn't forming words; she struggled to connect and communicate; and holding her attention proved almost impossible. Mary had to leave the island, had to bring JoJo to Las Vegas, where Mary's father and brother lived, to finally receive a diagnosis: autism.
Even so, Mary still believed JoJo would get better, that with enough love and attention, enough books and quality time, JoJo would turn a corner, finally emerge from behind the wall she seemed to perpetually stand behind.
That never happened. Mary had to accept that faith and willpower weren't enough; JoJo needed a doctor.
Really, only two things seem to keep JoJo focused: video games and swimming. (Those two things actually have more in common than you'd first imagine.) But on this spring afternoon, we're headed to the Las Vegas municipal pool, just off the Strip. Swim season is coming to a close for most Special Olympics athletes, but not for JoJo. She will compete in Seattle at the Special Olympics USA Games (July 1-6).
And this is another reason I'm in Las Vegas: to tell the story of a girl from a tiny island very far away. A girl who struggles to tell her own story, even while surrounded by a family trying to give her as much as they can.