“This is dumb. You just said I’m doing fine in school, excellent even.” I pause to channel my inner Mom. “I don’t want you to tell my teachers that I have some disorder,” I say, and add to myself, Because teachers are terrible at keeping secrets and I finally have friends for the first time in my life and I’d like to keep it that way.

“Lou, this is not as uncommon as you think. Five to fifteen percent of kids have some form of a sensory processing disorder.” She’s trying to make this no big deal, like how people talk about having ADHD. But I’ve seen the kids who really have ADHD. I’ve seen what it’s like for them when they forget their meds. It’s a huge deal.

I shake my head.

Andrea puts her tea down. “But, Lou, what happens at the pep rallies? The cheering, the yelling… the blowing horns? What happens in science class when you have to stand shoulder to shoulder with your lab partner and do an experiment? What happens in the dining hall if the checkout line gets jammed, and everyone’s jostling to pay?” She pauses. “What happens then?”

I sit back in the chair and close my eyes. Every one of those scenarios is my worst nightmare, and Andrea knows it. She keeps talking.

“No one is doubting that you have done an excellent job coping all these years. But, Lou, not everything has to be so hard. My job is to help you get the most out of your educational experience. We can make accommodations. We can make it easier.”

You are a fighter. I hear Mom’s words again like she’s right here. I think of Well and sharing headphones on the wet grass. Of dancing to the blues with Mrs. Nicky. Of sitting on the dryer eating cookies with Ginger. The minute I let Andrea tell everyone about this, it’ll all be over. I’ll be the “special-needs kid.” The kid with the disorder. My chance at normal will disappear. Fighters keep fighting.

I open my eyes and sit up.

“I don’t want a plan.”

Melissa, the caseworker, is standing next to her motorcycle, waiting for our end of the week check-in when Dan pulls down the drive this afternoon. I go straight up to my room without looking at her. This day has been a boatload of badness. After my meeting with Andrea, we had a memory exercise in theater. Mrs. Nicky made us close our eyes and sniff different things to see what it made us remember. She said smell is the number one sense linked to memory.