But as I climbed out of the car, panic knocked me in the ribs. I hoped Zac hadn’t lost it today, tipped over a table, or run from class. I hoped they weren’t going to say he could no longer be a pupil here. Then this move would have been for nothing. I took a deep breath and walked in.

The inside of the school was awesome, and today I was really able to look around. It was unlike any of the other schools he’d been to, and looked more like a house than an actual school. I walked through the central courtyard, filled with bright, colored plants and a small veggie garden, and headed in the direction of his classroom. A kid with thick glasses ran past me on his tiptoes. I smiled; Zac used to run on his tiptoes. It took craploads of physical therapy just to get him to walk flat on his feet. I remember the day he was able to do that; we’d celebrated as if he’d won the Nobel Prize.

“Hello?” I stuck my head into his classroom.

His teacher, Mrs. Edwards, looked up from her desk. “Hi.”

“I’m here to fetch Zac.” I glanced into the classroom, but it was empty. “How was he today?” I asked apprehensively.

“It took him a while to settle, but when he did, he was great.”

“Really? He was?”

She graced me with a warm, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, he’s going to fit in well here.” She said it with such confidence that I almost believed her. But we’d thought that about the last four schools.

“They’re all down on the sports field. Can I show you where it is?” she offered.

“It’s okay. I know where it is. Thanks.”

When I reached the field, I scanned the sides for Zac. There’s no way they would get him to play a sport. He detests any kind of activity with rules that aren’t his own, and he also hates the noise and excitement of sports. But when I didn’t see him sitting there, another stab of panic hit me. I scanned the field, looking frantically from child to child to child and then . . . I was gobsmacked.

There he was. He was holding a tennis racket and someone was helping him hit a big, blue ball with it. I didn’t want to disturb them, so I found a spot on a small wall and sat down to watch. It looked like they were playing a mash-up of tennis meets soccer meets volleyball meets cricket. And clearly there were no rules, either, which quickly become evident when Zac hit the ball and then hopped on one leg to a Hula-Hoop, which he then picked up and wiggled around his hips.