Wait. Hang on a moment here. Let’s pause. Have I, Lori Palmer, just been nudged playfully on the arm by a straight guy? This had never happened to me before. I’d never been nudged. Not even close. Not even a half nudge. And never by someone this hot, even though he wasn’t my type. Oh, who the hell was I kidding, Jake was everyone’s type, and now my arm felt like it was on fire, and then, because I was a totally inexperienced dork, I froze. Instead of nudging him back or coming up with a clever, funny comeback, I simply turned to a block of ice. An awkward silence engulfed us and my mind raced, thinking of something to say that would break it.

“So Lisa, is she . . . ?” I let the question hang in the air.

“ADHD,” he replied.

“Zac’s also dyslexic. He’s struggling with reading and writing.”

“Lisa’s also struggling academically. She has some unspecified learning difficulties too.”

“Don’t you hate that word unspecified.” I threw some air quotes around. “I mean, if the experts don’t know what it is, then what are we supposed to do about it? It’s such a cop-out . . . unspecified!”

“Totally,” Jake agreed. “Or what about when they first think it’s auditory processing issues, and then it’s ADHD, inattentive type, but then, no, it’s actually ADHD, hyperactive, impulsive type.”

“I know! Zac went to a million doctors. He even went for an EEG and an MRI before someone finally diagnosed him correctly.” I paused, a stab in my side. Familiar stab. “I—I was relieved when he was diagnosed. Before that I just thought he was . . . irritating.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Jake turned to me, his voice getting softer. “I thought Lisa was just badly behaved. I was a bit of a dick to her sometimes.”

We fell into a silence for a while, letting the gravity of our words wash over us.

“How are your mom and dad with it?” he asked.

I shrugged. “They’re divorced. Not because of that. My mom works a lot.” It was all I could manage to say about the matter, and I could see Jake was waiting for more, but honestly, I didn’t really know what else to say.

Jake nodded, though, as if he’d understood what I’d meant with that vague statement, even if I hadn’t understood it myself.

“My mom got really depressed when Lisa was diagnosed. She had to go to therapy and take antidepressants for a while. She blamed herself.” He looked down at the sand when he said it.

“That must have been hard.” My voice softened to match the sudden mood shift.

“She’s fine now, though.” He looked up at me briefly, and in that moment, I felt inexplicably close to him.