One boy is about to learn that he has already passed such an event, and nothing will ever be quite the same…

“Yeow! That’s gotta hurt!” Brandon added. “That’s Kelly down at the sideline.” They watched the screen as the cheerleader slowly got up on her knees then stood, clenching her forearm near the wrist.

“But I think another cheerleader got caught between the two players,” remarked Jenny.

“Another one of the jayvee squad,” Brandon confirmed. “If it’s who usually stands next to Kelly, it’d be Double Abby.”

“Double Abby?”

“Abigail Abernathy,” he clarified. “Since ‘Abby’ works for both her first and last names, she got the nickname ‘Abby-Abby’ or ‘Double Abby’ in grade school because we had another Abby in our class.”

They continued watching the television to see the two football players get up from the ground, revealing the petite cheerleader lying motionless on the ground. Kelly went over and knelt next to her friend. Brandon and Jenny held hands as they watched. When Jenny glanced at him, he noticed that she was crying. When he did, he quit holding back his own tears.

The football team’s trainer also came over and then knelt beside Abby. Coach San-Giacomo followed him. Jeff Baker tossed the football to the referee who’d come to the sideline. The trainer stood up and waved the waiting paramedics to advance. While they did, he looked at Kelly’s left forearm and began to wrap a bandage around it.

Jenny and Brandon could not see the Pine Forest linebacker Bob Kavalevsky’s pain and anxiety. His worry and tears were well-hidden under his helmet and behind his face mask. But they did notice that Jeff Baker patted his opponent’s shoulder in concern. Jeff shared the linebacker’s remorse.

“Those football players hafta feel bad about that,” observed Jenny. “They couldn’t have meant to hit the cheerleaders.”

“No. They were focused entirely on the pass play,” confirmed Brandon. “That’s what football’s like. They might not even have known where the sideline was until after they’d crossed it. It was just an accident.”

“But look, the paramedics are lifting her onto that stretcher. She must be unconscious.”

“They usually bring an ambulance from our football field to the Emergency Room here. If you want, you could wait for them in the waiting room downstairs.”

“I’d rather stay here with you,” Jenny assured Brandon. “That’s why I came.”

Brandon took Jenny by the hand and pulled her to him. She leaned over him and once more, their lips met.

Dr. MacDonald was on duty in the ER (Brit. A&E) when the ambulance from the football game arrived at St. Luke’s Episcopal Hospital. When the rear door of the vehicle opened, he recognized that each patient wore the junior varsity cheerleading uniform of West Grove High School, the same uniform that his daughter Sheila had worn the previous year. Also, he recognized his son Brandon’s red-haired friend and classmate Kelly, wearing a bandage on her left arm and a purse strapped over each shoulder. (She had the presence of mind to bring Abby’s purse as well as her own.) After she had crawled out of the ambulance, she took and held the other cheerleader’s hand as the paramedics pushed the gurney inside.

“Kelly, what happened?” Dr. MacDonald asked her.

“A pass play came over the sideline,” explained Kelly. “Double Abby got caught between the receiver and the tackler. She was wearing new contact lenses so she might’ve misjudged how close they were. And she’s been out since it happened.”

“That’s right,” confirmed one of the paramedics, handing the doctor a clipboard with a form that they both signed. “Possible concussion. Also, she felt tender in the upper left abdominal quadrant. Likely broken ribs, ulna, femur, and tibia. We immobilized her with collar and backboard in case of spinal injury.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Nathan said as he returned him the clipboard. The paramedics and orderlies then lifted Abby from the gurney to a bed and rolled her into the ER. There, the nurses and technicians immediately began working on her by carefully removing the collar and backboard before taking her clothes off and then starting an IV line.

“Kelly, I want you to get an x-ray of that arm,” said Dr. MacDonald. “If you can, I’d also like you to help Admissions with Abby’s paperwork as best you can. But first, do you know if she has any medical issues?”

“Not that I know of,” replied Kelly. “She’s always been really fit as far as I know. Honestly, most of the squad is more than a little jealous of her fitness.”

“Thanks, that’s good to know,” the physician acknowledged. Then he took out a pad from the pocket of his white coat and made a notation on it. “Take this to our radiology lab while I work on your friend. You know I’ll do everything I can for her.”

“Thanks, Doctor MacDonald. I’ll call her parents, too. They weren’t at the game.”

“That’d also be helpful,” agreed the physician. “Now get going, Kelly. “Again, get that x-ray. And remember, Abby’s counting on you to give us her admission data and to get her parents here.”

The Rev. Philip Abernathy and his wife Florence were enjoying their time with the two couples dining with them at La Trattoria Nuova de Michelangelo. Christopher and Karen Newcombe, an architect and a software engineer, respectively, and another professional couple, David and Madeleine Prentice, an accountant and a patent attorney, were prospective new members of St. Matthew’s United Methodist Church. The conversation among the adults at the table had been lovely and lively, while the Newcombes’ twelve-year old daughter Alyssa had in big-sisterly fashion taken the Prentices’ eager and willing four-year old daughter Sarah under her wing. Alyssa’s older siblings, Timothy, age 14, and Joyce, age 16, were at the Homecoming Game.

Both the Newcombes and the Prentices had moved to West Grove recently. The small town’s economy was turning around thanks to new technologies being developed by local inventors and entrepreneurs. Mrs. Abernathy, a certified K-12 schoolteacher, was happily surprised to see an unexpected 30% surge in enrollment at William Jefferson Clinton Elementary School. Laid-off three years earlier, she had been called back to teach there at the end of the summer break.

The Reverend felt the cellphone vibrating in the lower left pocket of his suit jacket. Glancing at it, he read ‘Abby’ in the display, then rose from the table.

“Excuse me, please,” the Reverend asked. “I need to take this call.” He turned to his wife. “It’s Abby.”

Striding toward the restaurant’s waiting area, the Rev. Abernathy answered the call. “Hello, Princess!…”

“Uh, not quite, Reverend Abernathy,” another girl’s voice answered. “I’m Abby’s friend Kelly…”

“Oh yes, I remember you,” the minister acknowledged. “But why are you calling me on her cellphone?…”

“We were caught in a collision between two players. She was badly injured,” the cheerleader reported. “They brought us to Saint Luke’s Episcopal. Abby’s in the Emergency Room here…”

“Can I talk to her?…” asked the pastor, the anxiety in his voice growing.

“Not now. She’s unconscious from a concussion,” explained Kelly. “But the nurse here needs to talk with you…” She handed the cellphone to the nurse at the admitting desk.

“Am I speaking with the Reverend Philip Abernathy?…” asked the nurse.

“Yes, I’m Philip Abernathy…”

“I’m Debbi Freund, the Charge Nurse for the Emergency Room at Saint Luke’s Episcopal Hospital. Your daughter Abigail is here and unconscious. She has a concussion, multiple fractures, and a ruptured spleen. Our surgeon is confident she can save her spleen, but she’s not willing to operate without parental consent…”

“She has our permission to do whatever’s necessary…”

“We do need it in writing, Reverend sir…”

“Please, ma’am, tell her to start. I’ll sign any permission when we get there…”

“Alright, then. I’ll have your daughter’s paperwork ready when you arrive…”

“Thank you, ma’am. Would you give the ’phone back to my daughter’s friend, please?…”

Nurse Freund handed the ’phone to Kelly, who resumed talking with her friend’s father. “Yes, Reverend Abernathy?…”

“How are you doing, Kelly?…”

“I’m okay for now,” she replied, touched that he’d concern himself with her welfare. “I broke my wrist, but it’s in a splint now…”

“Thank you for looking out for Abby. I appreciate the call…”

“She’s my friend. We’re like sisters on the cheer squad and we all look out for each other…”

“Her mother and I are thankful she has friends like you…”

Kelly blushed a little at the praise Abby’s father had offered her. She hadn’t even considered her own safety—nor had Astrid. They had both rushed to help Abby avoid the collision, but it had developed too quickly and just far enough away to frustrate their efforts. Still, Kelly’s and Astrid’s reactions had been immediate, valuing their friend’s well-being above their own.

“Thank you, Reverend,” offered Kelly. “Abby’s important to us…”

“I need to go now. I have to tell my wife—Abby’s mom—what’s happened so we can get to the hospital,” he said. “Thanks for calling. Goodbye, Kelly…”

“Goodbye, Reverend Abernathy…”

The Reverend hurried back to his table. He leaned over to whisper in his wife’s ear, “Honey, we need to call an end to dinner. Abby’s hurt. She’s at Saint Luke’s. They need our permission for surgery.”

Florence nodded to her husband and he turned to signal the maître d’hotel. Then while he arranged for their guests to continue dinner, she addressed them: “We’re sorry, but we just received word that our daughter’s been injured and we’re needed at the hospital.”

“Abby is a cheerleader and she was hurt when a football play went over the sideline,” explained the Rev. Abernathy. “The hospital needs our permission for treatment, so we must leave early. But I’ve arranged with the maître d’ for your dinner to continue. So feel free to order dessert, after-dinner coffee or drinks, whatever. And please continue getting your families acquainted with one another.”

“Can we at least leave the tip?” Chris Newcombe offered.

“That’s already been taken care of, along with the bill,” replied the minister. “But feel free to add a like amount to the offertory. I hope we’ll see all of you at church Sunday morning.”

With that, the Reverend and his wife exchanged farewells with the Newcombes and Prentices, little Sarah waving her fingers as they left.

Nurse Freund smiled. “Thank you so very much for your help with Abby’s paperwork,” she told Kelly. “You were smart to bring her purse along. Usually, we don’t have any information on health insurance when someone comes in under conditions like this.”

“I’m glad I could help,” Kelly assured the nurse. “She’s my friend and she’d do the same for me.”

“Calling her dad with her own cellphone was good thinking,” Debbi complimented the cheerleader.

“We both have the same model of smartphone. I knew exactly how to access it,” explained Kelly. “By the way, another friend of mine was brought in this morning. Can you tell me what room he’s in?”

“Surely! What’s his name?”

“Brandon MacDonald.”

“Doctor and Nurse MacDonald’s son?”

“Mm-hmm! We’re classmates.”

“Lemme see… I had it here only a few minutes ago,” the nurse said. “Here it is! He’s in the Adolescent Ward, Room twenty-five-oh-one.”

“Thanks, Nurse Freund,” offered Kelly as she turned to go down the corridor.

Kelly found her way to St. Luke’s new Adolescent Ward quickly enough. Brandon’s room was the first in that ward after she entered by the main double doors. She peeked inside.

“Could I come in?” Kelly asked.

“Of course!” Brandon invited.

“Omigosh, Kelly!” Jenny exclaimed, noting the cheerleader’s left hand and forearm immobilized in a splint and a sling. “You’re so hurt!”

“Oh, it’s not so bad as it looks,” Kelly dismissed her injury. “It’s just a distal radius fracture.”

“A what?” Brandon asked.

“A broken wrist,” clarified Kelly.

“Still, I’m sorry,” Jenny consoled her, hugging Kelly warmly but carefully avoid her injured arm. “We watched you and Abby take that hit. How’s she doing now?”

Kelly glanced down. “Not very well,” she reported. “Double Abby cracked three ribs and broke her left forearm and left leg in two places. She also has a concussion and a ruptured spleen. She’s in surgery now.”

“Why were her injuries so much worse than yours?” Brandon inquired.

“She was wearing her new contact lenses but hadn’t adjusted to the prescription yet,” explained Kelly. “I think she simply misjudged how far out the players were. She got caught right between our receiver and their linebacker. They’re both really big, heavy guys and carried a lot of momentum. Double Abby didn’t expect to get hit, so she didn’t think to move or to protect herself. I got injured trying to push her out of the way. Astrid tried as well, but she wasn’t close enough to reach her, either.”

“Were the two players injured?” Jenny inquired.

“Not physically, anyway,” replied Kelly. “But they’re both waiting outside the operating room. They’re very upset about it. I don’t think the Pine Forest linebacker has stopped crying like since it happened. Their coach pulled him from the game ’cause he just couldn’t focus.”

“I hope you’ll both be okay,” Jenny wished for the two cheerleaders.

“So do I,” added Brandon. “I just never thought of cheerleading as a contact sport.”

“Believe me, Brandon,” assured Kelly, “I never thought of it that way, either. Cheerleading injuries are usually more like what we had in gymnastics.”

“You were in gymnastics?” Jenny asked Brandon in surprise.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “Kelly and me were in the same gymnastics school until two years ago.”

“How did you get into that?” Jenny followed up.

“Yes, you never did let on why you took gymnastics,” added Kelly. “For that matter, you never told anyone why you quit.”

“Well, I was really clumsy when I was little,” confessed Brandon. “So, when Sheila decided she wanted ballet lessons, Mom was gonna sign me up to take it with her. But I was afraid all the other boys would make fun of me. So Dad suggested I might take gymnastics instead. Coach and Madame Johnson gave us their Family Plan Discount.”

“So, your gymnastics and ballet teachers were married?” Jenny continued.

“They still are,” affirmed Kelly. “I actually took both gymnastics and ballet from them. We also got good discounts. My older sister Maureen took ballet from Madame Johnson as well. Anyway, Brandon, why did you quit? I mean, you were really good on the floor and on the bar.”

“Well, I wasn’t good at anything else,” he admitted. “Coach Johnson told Dad he’d be wasting his money if I continued. He said I didn’t have a ‘competitive physique.’”

“I can’t believe Mister Johnson would say something like that!” exclaimed Kelly incredulously.

“He only said it because it’s true,” Brandon dismissed Kelly’s objection. “He didn’t believe I would be able to compete at the next level. And I knew he was right. Although I was improving at vaulting and pommel horse, I still lagged behind everyone else in the class for those events. But I wasn’t even close to getting started on the parallel bars or the flying rings.”

“I’m sorry, Brandon,” consoled Kelly. “I never knew.”

“That’s okay, Kelly. There was no reason for you to know,” he assured her. “I mean, it was disappointing, but I got over it. Besides, I had long since achieved my goal.”

“Which was…?” Jenny asked.

“To walk without tripping over my own feet,” he answered laughing at himself as the two girls giggled along.

They heard another girl’s voice at the door. “I see you have company already. And I was afraid you’d be all alone in here,” Sheila told her brother, only half-kidding. She was wearing a pom-pom girl’s uniform of a shiny, sparkly crimson and royal blue leotard mini-skirted in long white fringe, shimmering nude tights, white gauntlets trimmed in short crimson and royal blue fringe, and matching white ballet slippers.

“Come in and join us, Sis!” Brandon invited her. “Jenny, I’d like you to meet my sister Sheila. Sis, this is Jenny Chang, my girlfriend.”

The two girls didn’t bother to shake hands but went directly to hugs. “So, you’re the girl who got my little brother’s attention,” said Sheila. “Like, you’re all he can talk about now.”

“He didn’t seem about to ask me,” explained Jenny. “So I decided to make the first move myself. Mom says sometimes a girl must go after what—or whom she wants.”

“That’s my little brother, alright,” confirmed Sheila. “Always clueless about girls.” Then she turned to embrace the injured cheerleader, but carefully dodged her bandaged wrist. “I’m glad to see you again, Kelly.” Sheila kissed her cheek.

“Glad to see you again, too,” replied Kelly, returning the hug and kiss. “But I had hoped to be cheering with you. Why aren’t you a cheerleader this year?”

“I wasn’t that good with the more difficult gymnastics,” admitted Sheila. “I’m much more confident with just dancing, so the pom-pom squad is really a better fit for me.”

“Well, the important thing is you’re still out there showing school spirit,” emphasized Kelly, smiling. “And you rock in that uniform.”

“Thanks, Kelly,” offered Sheila.

“Hey, Sis!” Brandon called out. “Don’t forget me over here!”

“Of course I’m not forgetting you, Li’l Bro!” Sheila assured him. “After all, I came here to see you, didn’t I?”

“Well, since you’re my sister, I must suspect a hidden agenda,” he teased her. “And since you’re here with both my girlfriend and my longtime playmate since kindergarten, even a full-blown conspiracy is possible.”

“Aw! Would I do something like that to you?” Kelly protested with an exaggerated pout at which Jenny and Sheila giggled.

“In a word? Yeah!” Brandon replied. “Like the plan you and your friends revealed at lunch yesterday. That’s kinda why I’m in here anyway.”

“What?” Kelly asked.

“I had nightmares and awoke with a panic attack,” explained Brandon. “The nightmares were about you girls electing me Homecoming Princess. I couldn’t get away from you and next you and the other girls made me wear a formal gown and get made over at the mall. Then you made my best friend, Jeff, escort me to midfield at the Homecoming game in front of everyone. I woke up trying to scream, but short of breath. That’s when Mom and Dad came in to help me breathe. Sis called the ambulance.”

Replaying the sequence of events since Wednesday morning in her mind, Kelly sniffled and broke into tears. His nightmares were her fault. If she hadn’t teased and cajoled him over crossdressing and led her girlfriends to do the same, then he wouldn’t have had the nightmares, so he wouldn’t have had the panic attack, nor have been in the hospital. Therefore, not having Brandon available as her Knight-Escort, she concluded, was entirely her own fault. She found the logic irrefutable.

Suddenly turning, Kelly fled from the room, escaping down the corridor, through the double doors, and out of the Adolescent Ward.

“What’s that all about?” Brandon wondered, stunned and confused. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, Li’l Bro,” Sheila assured him. “I don’t think it was anything you said or did.”

“No, she must have something on her own mind,” Jenny concurred. “After all, she declined Freshman Homecoming Princess this morning after winning it.”

“She did what?” Brandon exclaimed. “Kelly wanted that more than anything. Why would she pass it up?”

“That’s a good question,” observed Sheila. “Maybe I can find her and ask.”

“Gotta moment?” Dr. Windham asked her colleagues Nathan and Libby as she caught them on their way into the Staff Lounge. Theresa sat in an armchair across from the sofa where Libby sat down.

“Sure, Teri,” replied Dr. MacDonald as he held the door for her and his wife. “What’s up?” Nathan asked as he went to the coffeemaker. He filled cups for Libby and Theresa and served them before filling his own. “Is this about Brandon?”

“Yes, it is,” affirmed the psychiatrist. “He’s mostly fine, although I do see a few possible concerns.”

“Like what?” Libby queried the psychiatrist.

“First, Brandon’s a little worried about his gender identity, Libby,” replied Dr. Windham. “A nightmare on that theme seems to’ve triggered his panic attack this morning. He presented so well as a girl for his school’s ‘Gender-Bender Day,’ that a number of his female classmates asked him to repeat it, although I suspect they pressured him too strongly about it.”

“That explains why he enjoyed dressing up for it then regretted it the next day,” observed Nathan.

“Perhaps, but he’s also afraid of violating some unwritten rule of boyhood,” Theresa added to Brandon’s symptomatology. “His greatest fear wasn’t dressing and behaving as a girl, but that he really enjoyed doing so. He’d like to try it again, but he’s afraid he might risk forfeiting his claim to eventual manhood.”

“Nate, that’s why we need to show him our own high school yearbooks,” Libby asserted.

“But I don’t want Brandon to feel that I’m pressuring him along with everyone else,” Nathan maintained.

Dr. Windham was puzzled, so asked, “What’s in the yearbooks?” Then she noticed Nathan blushing. “Is this something I need to know that might affect Brandon.”

“Sweetheart, please don’t!” Nathan begged his wife, offering a sadly embarrassed demeanor.

“This is for our son’s well-being, dear,” Libby reminded him. “After all, you brought Teri in on this, so it’s our duty as parents to offer her any information that she might find relevant.”

“So, Libby, what’s in your yearbooks?” reiterated Theresa.

“Nate was a cheerleader—and a cute one—for the Powder-Puff Football Tournament all four years of high school,” Libby disclosed. “And he was elected a Powder-Puff Princess his sophomore and junior years and Queen of the Powder-Puff Ball his senior year.”

“Omigosh!” Theresa squealed holding her hands over her mouth, palms facing, fingertips touching, yet not effectively muffling her exclamation. “Are you kidding?”

“Libby, you are so sleeping alone tonight,” announced Nathan.

“Don’t be such a curmudgeon, Nate,” Libby cautioned her husband.

“Libby’s right, Nate,” confirmed Dr. Windham. “If you have experience in presenting your feminine side in such a public venue, sharing that with Brandon should help relieve some of the anxiety he’s feeling.”

“I’m afraid that if I do, he may feel pressure to emulate me when he wouldn’t want to,” admitted Nathan.

“But given that he’s unsure how to handle such a circumstance, to know that you did without ill effect may be a great relief to him,” explained Theresa. “Whether he chooses to emulate you or not, he still needs a role model to help him through it. No one would be better than his own father for this.”

“Just because I was comfortable crossdressing in my teens does not guarantee Brandon will be as well,” objected Nathan. “For one thing, I wasn’t the only boy doing it. We had an entire cheer squad as well as a dance line of pom-pom girls and a majorette corps. Having so many guys all doing it together made it safe and was also much of the fun.”

“But honey, your crossdressing wasn’t limited to Powder-Puff Football,” his wife reminded him. “We dressed you up quite a few times.”

“And who enjoyed it more, Libby?” Nathan retorted. “You or your mother?”

“Well, you never complained!” Libby reminded him with a giggle. “You even said you wish you’d dressed up more.”

“Seriously, Nate,” reasserted Theresa. “Your son needs to know.”

“Alright!” conceded Nathan. “I’ll talk to him about it when he gets home. I just hope he’s not more frightened by it than he already has been.”

“I think he really wants to do more crossdressing,” said Dr. Windham. “But I think he needs to know he has your support before he can give himself permission to explore his gender identity.”

“Teri, do you think Brandon’s transgendered?” Libby asked.

“That’s a good question,” replied the psychiatrist. “At this time, he’s interested in exploring who he is. So far, he’s not really shown any signs of gender identity disorder—he just tried crossdressing and is confused and embarrassed because he found out he enjoyed it. He may simply be androgynous like you, Nate. Also, I should point out that he did express fear that to like crossdressing might disqualify him becoming a man. If he’s indeed afraid of losing his masculinity, I’d further doubt him being transgendered. Again, that’s another reason he needs to know about his father’s experiences. And that brings me to the next issue.”

“What’s that?” Libby asked her.

“Brandon seems generally to keep his focus in a few narrow areas, doesn’t he?” inquired Theresa.

“Yes, we’ve noticed that recently,” confirmed Nathan as Libby nodded her agreement. “Is that a cause for concern?”

“It can be,” Theresa cautioned her friends. “But it really depends on why his focus is so narrow. One reason might simply be that he’s afraid to step beyond his comfort zone to try new experiences. That would make his recent interest in crossdressing an encouraging sign.”

“Because he took a risk doing it?” Nathan asked for clarification.

“Yes,” the psychiatrist affirmed. “A measured, limited, and controlled risk, but a risk nonetheless. And it’s had real consequences for Brandon, even if they may seem somewhat overblown to us. So, we discussed leaving his comfort zone and giving himself permission to fail.”

“Could there be another reason?” Libby asked Theresa.

“Yes, and it pains me to say so, Libby, Nate,” the psychiatrist grimly prefaced her diagnosis. “Now, I’m not an expert on this, so I would like to consult with another colleague who is. Brandon shows a number of symptoms of an autism spectrum disorder, signs of what until very recently was known as Asperger’s syndrome.”

“Asperger’s syndrome?” Libby asked her, partly in denial, partly in surprise. “Are you serious?—Well, of course you’re serious! But I find that so very hard to believe.”

“But Libby, Asperger’s would explain much about Brandon,” her husband observed. “I’m inclined to go along with Teri on this.”

“I’d like to point out that I’m relying not just on my own interview with Brandon and observations of him,” Theresa added, “but both of you have described various behaviors over the years that, considered as a whole, would tend to support a diagnosis of an autism spectrum disorder, especially Asperger’s syndrome.”

“Isn’t there a specific test for Asperger’s syndrome that we’d need for a proper diagnosis?” Libby followed up. “Is it fair to diagnose Brandon according to what Nate and I have told you about him over the years?”

“There are diagnostic protocols for autism spectrum disorders,” Theresa confirmed. “In fact, they include an interview with the parents. So considering what you and Nate have disclosed to me about your son anticipates some of the actual protocol, although there are other tests as well. For example, certain subtests of the Wechsler Adult Intelligence Scale are known to correlate quite strongly with diagnoses of autism spectrum disorders.”

“I had just thought that he’s going through the same normal problems any teenaged boy does,” Libby said in a worried voice.

“And he still is,” Teri added. “Not everything he'd face would be due to Asperger’s. He’s still a teenager and, for example, his hormones appear to be just beginning to stir. But Asperger’s syndrome could affect how he’d handle the new situations that go along with it.”

“I guess neither of us realized how much might be piling up for Brandon,” observed Nathan. “So what do you suggest next?”

“Were you going to have him stay overnight for observation?” asked Dr. Windham.

“Yeah,” Dr. MacDonald answered. “I want to make sure we don’t have a repeat of this morning’s panic attack from nightmares. Besides, keeping him here for observation is pretty much normal protocol anyway.”

“Tomorrow morning, I’d like to give Brandon the Wechsler, and if his scores warrant, I’d then like to bring in Doctor Blaise Devereaux for additional observation and assessment,” Teri told her friends. “He’s a clinical psychologist and quite an expert in diagnosis and management of autism spectrum disorders. He’s the best around. I’ve worked with him often and he’s agreed to come in tomorrow afternoon for Brandon depending on his Wechsler scores.”

“Exactly what would Doctor Devereaux do for Brandon?” Libby asked.

“He’d review your son’s results from the Wechsler and then likely administer diagnostic tests specific to autism,” Dr. Windham explained. “Although certain scores on the Wechsler and its subtests correlate strongly with Asperger’s syndrome, they’re not definitive. Also, as I mentioned earlier the diagnostic testing will probably include a structured interview with you and Nate. So you’d both need to arrange some time off tomorrow afternoon.”

Libby glanced at Nathan who nodded back to her and then to Teri. This was for their son’s welfare. They’d make time off for the interview.

“Can we come in?” another familiar voice came through the door of Brandon’s hospital room. It was his next-door neighbor and best friend, Jeff Padgett. “We heard you were in here. You okay now?”

“Jeff! Mark! Melinda!” Brandon happily acknowledged his friends. “Come on in! I think I’m alright now, but Mom and Dad want me to stay overnight and I gotta have more tests tomorrow.”

“What’s wrong with you anyway?” Jeff asked his longtime buddy. Meanwhile, Sheila and Jenny went around hugging Brandon’s new set of visitors.

“I woke up with a panic attack after a nightmare,” explained Brandon once again. “Sheila called for an ambulance while Mom and Dad helped my breathing. It was kinda scary until I was awake enough to see Mom and Dad working on me.”

“That had to be heavy,” opined Mark about his friend’s experience.

“Well, the nightmare was,” Brandon downplayed Mark’s observation. “But after the panic attack, I slept through everything, anyway.”

“We’re just glad you’re alright now,” Melinda shared with the group. “It’s easy to see how you guys rely on each other.”

“How do you know my sister?” Brandon asked Mark’s girlfriend.

“Art club,” quipped Melinda tersely as Sheila nodded.

“Have you met my brother’s girlfriend yet?” the pom-pom girl asked her friend, afraid that once again Brandon’s narrow focus on his immediate circumstance might cause him to forego introductions.

“Melinda and I met at lunch yesterday. She suggested I’d look good in Goth fashion,” Jenny assured Sheila. “And just for the record, I met Mark and Jeff then as well.”

Sheila felt relieved at the thought that Brandon had not merely forgotten introductions but that everyone already knew one another. Then again, maybe he had forgotten, but there was no way to tell. Her brother never intended to be rude, but in his enthusiasm to discuss whatever, he often failed to follow the simplest of social protocols. She was not surprised that Jenny had made the first move with Brandon. Sheila doubted her brother would have read Jenny’s signals, even though the attraction was strong and clearly mutual.

“On the other hand, Jenny,” said Melinda, “you look totally awesome in what you’re wearing now. I mean, you’re really hot, girl!”

Jenny blushed some and giggled at Melinda’s comment. “Y’know, I would like to try it sometime,” she acknowledged. “Whaddya think, boyfriend? Would I make a pretty Goth girl?”

“I think I’d like you in something like Melinda’s wearing,” observed Brandon. “It has an Old World look—a Romantic theme you can pull off easily. Of course, I like what you’re wearing now.”

Jenny smiled back at Brandon while Melinda took Mark by the hand. “Jenny, would you like to come shopping with me this weekend? I could take you to the boutiques for Goth fashions.”

“That sounds like fun,” Jenny answered. “Maybe you’d like to come with us, Brandon?” she teased.

“No thanks!” Brandon answered her. “I’ve been in drag enough for now. Besides, you’ve reminded me tonight of just how much a guy I am.”

At that, Jeff high-fived Brandon, which he returned. “Good going, buddy!” Jeff announced smiling.

Sheila simply smiled to herself as she remembered talking with her brother the night before. “Oh, maybe you should consider it,” she teased him. Skirts and dresses can be acceptable for Goth boys.” Jenny and Melinda giggled along with her.

“Yes!” You did look so nice in that dress,” beamed Jenny. “You’ve got great legs. Don’t be so embarrassed by them!”

“Wait a minute, now!” Mark injected into the discussion. What about my legs, Melinda? I wore a skirt, too.”

“And so did I!” Jeff added. “We dressed up in support of Brandon. That wasn’t exactly easy for us.”

“True, but do you have a group of girls following you around trying to get you to repeat it?” Brandon asked his buddies.

“No, I guess not,” conceded Jeff.

“Well, not that you know about,” Melinda warned giggling behind a somewhat less than demure smirk. “Oh! And Mark, your legs did clinch the deal for me. I’ve just gotta see you in a pair of stockings sometime.”

“What?” Mark gasped in surprise.

“Please…?” Melinda bid in a singing voice, displaying an excellent, well-rehearsed pout along with puppy-dog eyes. “Just for me…?”

“There you go, guys!” Brandon declared to his buddies. “Now you have a little taste of what I’ve been going through since Wednesday.”

The three girls in Brandon’s hospital room glanced among themselves, fighting to restrain their giggles behind naughty grins. Jeff and Mark looked to their buddy in affright, but Brandon just shook his head in resignation. They looked back at the girls to see all three smirking back at them, but each with her best mesmerizing gaze.

“What is it?” Jeff asked, his voice tremulous. The room was silent for yet a moment. “Well, what?”

Kelly had seated herself snugly at the right end of a vinyl sofa in the slightly chilly waiting area outside the Emergency Room, curling her legs up underneath her. A nurse had brought her a blanket, which she now wore as a shawl around her upper body. On an end table, flush with the armrest next to her, were two purses, Abby’s as well as her own, and a box of facial tissues, which she very much needed that evening.

A sling held Kelly’s left arm, her wrist now immobilized in a splint. She would not be able to perform many of her cheerleading routines until her injury healed, since they required much gymnastics work, mostly tumbling. She’d have to break the news to Miss San-Giacomo herself and soon.

Even worse, though, Double Abby’s injuries were much more extensive and would take much longer to heal, definitely weeks, maybe months. At any rate, she would be unable to cheer for quite some time. So that’d put Abby on the long-term disabled list. Kelly felt sad for their coach, as the work she’d done to train such a good jayvee squad might’ve been all for nothing. The cheerleader worried about how their injuries would affect the other girls on the junior varsity squad.

Next, Kelly turned her thoughts to the practical problem of how she could manage her assignments for school. She was left-handed—a lefty, a southpaw—but now unable to use her left hand for perhaps a few weeks. How would she write or use a computer keyboard? Would her grades suffer as a result of her injury. She certainly hoped to avoid that somehow.

The events of the day had been just too much for Kelly, winning Freshman Homecoming Princess and naming Brandon as her Knight-Escort, then learning that he was in the hospital. And now it was clear that her own teasing had put him there and resulted in her having to give up her crown as Freshman Homecoming Princess in favor of Rhonda Davies. But beyond those issues was her continuing sexual attraction to Holly Thompson, Double Abby’s and her collision at the game with the two football players, Abby’s and her own injuries, and now Abby in surgery—it was all too much.

Kelly grabbed a few tissues as she began to cry yet again. All this had happened today after Brandon had chosen Jenny over her yesterday. Now she bore a wound in the hand along with the wound in her heart. She blotted her tears, then took her purse from the end table and laid it in her lap. Out of her purse, Kelly took her half-bottle of peppermint schnapps. Fighting the fatigue and ache in her left hand, the cheerless cheerleader managed to close her fingers around the bottle and unscrew the cap. She drank a swig of the schnapps, replaced the cap, and set it down on the end table. Then, she took yet another hard peppermint candy, and with some difficulty, tore its wrapper off and popped the confection in her mouth.

“I hope you don’t really think that you’re fooling anyone with the peppermints, Kelly,” a familiar baritone voice cautioned her. “The smell of schnapps is so much stronger than that of the peppermint oil used in hard candy.”

She looked up to see Dr. MacDonald standing there, the disappointment evident on the face of Brandon’s father.